Podcasts about Berns

I veckans avsnitt får vi besök av två svenska techno-legendarer, Adam Beyer och Joel Mull. Vi snackar om deras respektive gig på Berns i slutet av januari samt om techno-scenens utveckling, utsuddade genre-gränser och om Adams samarbeten med Armin van Buuren + albumet Explorer Vol. 1. Dessutom prat om att Drumcode fyller 30 år, och om Joels nystartade etikett Stunden. Plus en hel del annat.Adam Beyer på Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/realadambeyer/ Joel Mull på Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/joel_mull/ Drumcode på Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/drumcoderecords/ Stunden på Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/stunden.nu/ Dansmusikpoddens Patreon, FB-grupp etc: https://linktr.ee/dansmusikpodden

When neuroscientists scanned the brains of people going along with a group, they expected to find lying. What they found instead was something far stranger. The group wasn't changing people's answers. It was changing what they actually saw. We'll get to that study in a minute. But first, I want you to remember the last time you were in a meeting, and you knew something was wrong. The numbers didn't add up. The risk was being underestimated. And someone needed to say it. Then the most senior person in the room spoke first: "I think this is exactly what we need." Heads nodded. Finance agreed. Marketing agreed. The consultant agreed. And by the time it was your turn, you heard yourself saying, "I have some minor concerns, but overall I think it's solid." You're not alone. Research shows that roughly half of employees stay silent at work rather than voice a concern. And among those who stayed quiet, 40% estimated they wasted 2 weeks or more replaying what they didn't say. Two weeks. Mentally rehearsing the point they should have made in a meeting that's already over. That silence isn't a character flaw. It's your neurology working against you. And today I'm going to show you exactly why it happens and how to stop it.  It starts with what was happening inside your head during that meeting you just remembered. Why Your Brain Surrenders to the Group Most people know about the Asch conformity experiments from the 1950s. People were asked to match line lengths, and seventy-five percent went along with answers that were obviously wrong. That result gets cited everywhere. But the more important study came fifty years later, and it revealed something the Asch experiment never could. In 2005, neuroscientist Gregory Berns at Emory University put people inside an MRI machine and ran a similar conformity task, this time with three-dimensional shape rotation. Like Asch, he planted actors who gave wrong answers. But unlike Asch, he could watch what was happening inside people's brains while the conformity was occurring. Berns expected the MRI to show activity in the prefrontal cortex, the brain's decision-making center, when people went along with wrong answers. That would mean they were knowingly lying to fit in. Just a social calculation. That's not what the scans showed. People who conformed showed no increased activity in decision-making regions. Instead, the activity showed up in the parts of the brain that handle visual and spatial perception, the occipital and parietal areas. The group wasn't changing people's answers. It was changing what they actually saw. Their brains were rewriting their experience to match the room. And the people who resisted the group? Their scans told a different story. Heightened activity in the amygdala, the brain's threat detection center. The same circuitry that fires when you encounter physical danger lit up when someone disagreed with the group. Berns put it plainly. The fear of social isolation activates the same neural machinery as the fear of genuine threats to survival. When you caved in that meeting, your neurology wasn't malfunctioning. It was doing exactly what it was designed to do. Keep you safe inside the tribe. This is why what I call mindjacking works so well. Algorithms manufacture social proof by showing you what's trending, what your friends liked, and what similar people chose. Your wiring responds the same way it does at the conference table. You're fighting your own threat-detection system every time you try to hold an independent position within a group. You can't turn off the wiring. But you can learn to catch it in the act. And that starts with one critical distinction. The First Skill: Separating Updating from Caving Sometimes the people around you know something you don't. Changing your mind in a group isn't always a surrender. Sometimes it's the smartest move in the room. The real skill is knowing which one just happened. You can test this in real time. When you feel your position shifting in a group, ask yourself three questions. First: Did someone introduce information I didn't have before? If the CFO reveals a data point that genuinely changes the calculus, updating your view isn't a weakness. It's intelligence. That's new evidence. Second: Can I articulate why I changed my mind, in specific terms? If you can say, "I shifted because of the margin data in Q3 that I hadn't seen," that's a real update. If you can only say, "I don't know, everyone seemed to think it was fine," that's capitulation. Third: Would I have reached this same conclusion alone, with the same information? This is the killer question. If the answer is no, and you only arrived at this position because others were already there, you haven't updated. You've surrendered. Getting this wrong is costly. And not just the one time. When you capitulate and call it updating, you train yourself to stop trusting your own analysis. Do it enough times, and you won't even bother preparing, because you already know you're going to defer. That's how capable people slowly become passengers in rooms where they should be driving. Capture those three questions somewhere you'll see them. They're your real-time check on whether you're being open-minded or spineless. Those questions work when you're already in the meeting and the pressure is live. But what if you could protect your thinking before the pressure even starts? The Pre-Meeting Lock-In The most important thing you can do to protect your independent thinking doesn't happen during the meeting. It happens before. I call it the Pre-Meeting Lock-In, and it takes less than two minutes. Before any meeting where a decision will be made, write down three things:  Your position  Two or three key reasons supporting it What would it take to change your mind Put it on paper. Put it in a note on your phone. Just get it out of your head and into a form you can reference. Why does this work? Because once the discussion starts, your mind is going to quietly edit your memories of what you believed. You'll start thinking, "Well, I wasn't really sure about that point anyway." Your pre-meeting notes are an anchor against that self-deception. They're a record of what you actually thought before the social pressure arrived. You want to see what happens when someone has the analysis but doesn't lock it in?  The night before the Challenger launch in January 1986, engineer Roger Boisjoly and his team at Morton Thiokol had the data. They knew the O-ring seals were dangerous in cold weather. They'd written memos. They'd run the numbers. They recommended against launching. But when NASA pushed back hard on the teleconference, Thiokol management called an off-line caucus and excluded the engineers from the room. When the call resumed, management reversed the recommendation. Boisjoly had the analysis. His managers had heard it. But under pressure from their biggest customer, the conclusion got edited in real time. Boisjoly later described it as an unethical forum driven by what he called "intense customer intimidation." He fought like hell, but the room won. That's the most extreme version of the problem. Life and death. But the mechanics are the same in every conference room. The analysis exists. The pressure arrives. And without something anchoring you to what you actually concluded, the room rewrites the story. There's a bonus effect to the Lock-In, too. When you've documented what it would take to change your mind, you've given yourself permission to be genuinely open. You're not being stubborn for the sake of it. You're saying, "Show me evidence that meets this threshold, and I'll update." That's intellectual honesty with a backbone. But you can know exactly what you think and still fail if you can't get anyone else to hear it. How to Dissent and Actually Be Heard Most dissent fails not because it's wrong, but because it's delivered badly.  Blurting out "I think this is a mistake" when the group is already aligned feels like an attack. People get defensive. Your point gets ignored, not because it lacked merit, but because your delivery threatened the group's cohesion. You triggered the same threat response in them that you've been learning to manage in yourself. Charlan Nemeth, a psychologist at UC Berkeley, has studied dissent for decades. You'd expect her research to show that dissent helps groups when the dissenter is right. When someone spots a flaw that everyone else missed. That makes intuitive sense. But that's not what she found. Nemeth discovered that when someone voices a genuine minority opinion, the entire group thinks more carefully. They consider more information, examine more alternatives, and reach better conclusions. And the group benefits even when the dissenter turns out to be wrong. Even when you're wrong, the act of dissenting makes the group smarter. Your disagreement forces everyone out of autopilot. Decades of research by Moscovici supports this. Minority voices don't just influence people in the moment. They shift perception afterward, in private, long after the meeting ends. That's the good news. The catch is in how the dissent happens. Nemeth tested what happens when dissent is assigned rather than authentic, when someone plays devil's advocate because they were told to. It doesn't produce the same effect. Groups can tell when disagreement is performative. The cognitive benefits only show up when the dissent is authentic. When someone actually believes what they're saying. That means the goal isn't just to voice disagreement. It's to voice it in a way that people can actually receive. And the hardest version of this isn't when you have a minor concern about an otherwise good plan. It's when the whole direction is wrong, and finding something to praise would be dishonest. In those moments, the move is to separate the people from the position. "I respect the work that went into this, and I know this isn't what anyone wants to hear, but I think we're solving the wrong problem." You're honoring the effort while challenging the direction. You're not attacking the tribe. You're trying to save it from a bad bet. When the stakes are lower, and you do see genuine merit, you can lead with that. "The market timing argument is strong, and I want to make sure we've stress-tested one thing before we commit." Same principle. You're working with their wiring instead of against it. Either way, your dissent has value beyond being right. Remember that. It's worth holding onto when your amygdala is screaming at you to stay quiet. Everything so far has assumed you're in a room with other people. Your amygdala can't tell the difference between a conference table and a phone screen. The Rooms You Can't See You're not just in meetings. You're in invisible rooms all day long. And most of the time, you don't even know you've walked into one. Every time you scroll past a post with ten thousand likes and think, "I guess that's the right take." Every time you read three articles with the same conclusion and stop questioning it. Every time an algorithm shows you what similar people chose, and you choose it too. Those are rooms full of nodding heads. And your amygdala responds to them the same way it responds to the conference table. Think about the last time you researched a major purchase. You probably started with some idea of what you wanted. Then you read reviews. Then you checked what was trending. Then you asked friends. By the time you decided, how much of that decision was yours? How much of it was the room? Or think about how you form opinions on topics you haven't studied deeply. You read a few articles. They mostly agree. You adopt the consensus. That feels like research. But Berns' scans tell us what's actually happening. Your brain isn't independently weighing the evidence. It's detecting a consensus and rewriting your perception to match. The same process that happens at the conference table is happening every time you open your phone. Mindjacking doesn't need to override your thinking. It just needs to make sure you never finish thinking for yourself before the crowd's answer arrives. And once it arrives, your neurology does the rest. The group doesn't just influence your answer; it shapes it. It rewrites your perception. The Lock-In works for these invisible rooms, too. Before you research a major purchase, write down what you actually want and what you're willing to pay. Before you dive into reviews and opinions, commit your criteria to paper. Before you ask friends what they think about a decision you've already analyzed, record your conclusion. Give yourself the same protection from algorithmic conformity that you'd want before walking into a boardroom. The skill isn't being contrarian. It's being first. First, to your own conclusion, before the room, any room, gets a vote. This is your challenge for the week. Think of one meeting you have coming up where a decision will be made. Before you walk in, open your notes app and type three lines. Line one: what you think. Line two: why. Line three: what would change your mind. That's it. Then sit in that meeting and watch what happens to your thinking when the room pushes back. I think you'll surprise yourself. What if the person you can't resist isn't your boss, your colleagues, or the algorithm? What if it's you? What happens when the decision you need to make threatens something deeper, when being wrong would mean something unbearable about who you are? That's where we're headed next. Closing If this episode gave you something useful, hit that subscribe button. I'm building a complete thinking toolkit here in the Thinking 101 series. If you got value today, share it with someone who could use it, especially anyone heading into a big meeting this week. Drop a comment and tell me: what's the hardest group you've ever had to disagree with? I read every comment and reply. Thanks for watching, and I'll see you in the next episode. Endnotes/References "roughly half of employees stay silent at work rather than voice a concern" / "forty percent estimated they wasted two weeks or more": VitalSmarts, Costly Conversations: Why The Way Employees Communicate Will Make or Break Your Bottom Line (Provo, UT: VitalSmarts, December 2016). In a study of 1,025 employees, 70 percent reported instances where they or others failed to speak up effectively when a peer did not pull their weight. Half wasted seven days or more avoiding crucial conversations. Forty percent estimated they wasted two weeks or more ruminating about the problem. A 2021 follow-up study by Crucial Learning (formerly VitalSmarts) of 1,100 people found the rumination figure had risen to 43 percent. The script's "roughly half" is drawn from the VitalSmarts finding that the majority of the workforce reported conversation failures, with half losing seven or more days to avoidance behaviors. Primary source: https://www.vitalsmarts.com/press/2016/12/costly-conversations-why-the-way-employees-communicate-will-make-or-break-your-bottom-line/. Follow-up study: https://cruciallearning.com/press/costly-conversations-how-lack-of-communication-is-costing-organizations-thousands-in-revenue/ "the Asch conformity experiments from the 1950s": Solomon E. Asch, "Effects of Group Pressure upon the Modification and Distortion of Judgments," in Groups, Leadership and Men, ed. Harold Guetzkow (Pittsburgh: Carnegie Press, 1951), 177–190. The expanded report was published as Solomon E. Asch, "Studies of Independence and Conformity: I. A Minority of One Against a Unanimous Majority," Psychological Monographs: General and Applied 70, no. 9 (1956): 1–70. Asch conducted the line-judgment experiments at Swarthmore College. Participants judged which of three comparison lines matched a standard line, with confederates unanimously giving incorrect answers on critical trials. Across conditions, approximately 75 percent of participants conformed at least once, and the mean conformity rate was approximately one-third of critical trials. Group sizes varied across experiments, typically with 6–8 confederates and one real participant. https://psycnet.apa.org/record/1952-00803-001 "neuroscientist Gregory Berns at Emory University put people inside an MRI machine": Gregory S. Berns, Jonathan Chappelow, Caroline F. Zink, Giuseppe Pagnoni, Megan E. Martin-Skurski, and Jim Richards, "Neurobiological Correlates of Social Conformity and Independence During Mental Rotation," Biological Psychiatry 58, no. 3 (August 1, 2005): 245–253. doi:10.1016/j.biopsych.2005.04.012. The study used functional magnetic resonance imaging with a mental rotation task. Participants (n=32, ages 19–41) judged whether three-dimensional shapes were rotated versions of each other while four confederates provided answers. Conformity was associated with functional changes in the occipital-parietal network (visual and spatial perception regions), not the prefrontal cortex. Independence was associated with heightened activity in the right amygdala and right caudate nucleus, regions linked to emotional salience and threat detection. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/15978553/ "The group wasn't changing people's answers. It was changing what they actually saw": Berns et al., "Neurobiological Correlates of Social Conformity," 245–253. The researchers isolated the specifically social element of conformity by comparing brain activation when wrong answers came from a group of people versus when they came from computers. Conformity to group-sourced wrong answers produced greater activation bilaterally in visual cortex and right intraparietal sulcus, overlapping the baseline mental rotation network. Berns interpreted this as evidence that social conformity operates at a perceptual level rather than merely at a decision-making level. Full text PDF: https://pdodds.w3.uvm.edu/files/papers/others/2005/berns2005.pdf "Heightened activity in the amygdala": Berns et al., "Neurobiological Correlates of Social Conformity," 245–253. Participants who gave independent (correct) answers when the group was wrong showed significantly increased activation in the right amygdala and right caudate nucleus. The amygdala is associated with processing emotionally salient stimuli and threats. Berns described these findings as "consistent with the assumptions of social norm theory about the behavioral saliency of standing alone." The script's characterization that "the fear of social isolation activates the same neural machinery as the fear of genuine threats to survival" is an accessible paraphrase of this finding, consistent with the broader social pain literature (e.g., Eisenberger, Lieberman, & Williams, 2003), though Berns' paper does not use that exact language. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/15978553/ "engineer Roger Boisjoly and his team at Morton Thiokol had the data": Roger M. Boisjoly, "Ethical Decisions — Morton Thiokol and the Space Shuttle Challenger Disaster" (paper presented at the American Society of Mechanical Engineers Annual Meeting, December 13–18, 1987). First presented as a talk at MIT in January 1987. Boisjoly, a specialist in O-ring seals and rocket joints at Morton Thiokol, documented how engineers recommended against the January 28, 1986 launch based on concerns about O-ring performance in cold temperatures. During the pre-launch teleconference, Thiokol management called an off-line caucus, excluded the engineers, and reversed the no-launch recommendation under pressure from NASA. Boisjoly described the forum as constituting "the unethical decision-making forum" driven by customer pressure. He was awarded the Prize for Scientific Freedom and Responsibility by the American Association for the Advancement of Science. The Online Ethics Center at the National Academy of Engineering hosts Boisjoly's full account: https://onlineethics.org/cases/ethical-decisions-morton-thiokol-and-space-shuttle-challenger-disaster-introduction. See also Russell P. Boisjoly, Ellen Foster Curtis, and Eugene Mellican, "Roger Boisjoly and the Challenger Disaster: The Ethical Dimensions," Journal of Business Ethics 8, no. 4 (April 1989): 217–230. doi:10.1007/BF00383335. https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/BF00383335 "Nemeth discovered that when someone voices a genuine minority opinion, the entire group thinks more carefully": Charlan J. Nemeth, In Defense of Troublemakers: The Power of Dissent in Life and Business (New York: Basic Books, 2018). Nemeth's research program at UC Berkeley, spanning four decades, demonstrated that exposure to minority dissent stimulates divergent thinking, broader information search, consideration of more alternatives, and higher-quality group decisions. The finding that dissent improves group performance even when the dissenter turns out to be wrong is documented across multiple studies. See also Charlan J. Nemeth, "Minority Influence Theory," IRLE Working Paper No. 218-10 (Berkeley: Institute for Research on Labor and Employment, May 2010). https://escholarship.org/uc/item/1pz676t7 "Decades of research by Moscovici": Serge Moscovici, Elisabeth Lage, and Martine Naffrechoux, "Influence of a Consistent Minority on the Responses of a Majority in a Color Perception Task," Sociometry 32, no. 4 (December 1969): 365–380. In the original experiment, participants viewed blue slides while two confederates consistently called them green. The consistent minority condition produced a shift in approximately 8 percent of majority judgments toward the minority position, and roughly one-third of participants conformed at least once. In the inconsistent minority condition, the effect was negligible (approximately 1.25 percent). The script's claim that "minority voices don't just influence people in the moment — they shift perception afterward, in private" draws on Moscovici's subsequent conversion theory and research on the delayed and private effects of minority influence, including afterimage studies showing genuine perceptual shifts. https://www.jstor.org/stable/2786541 "Nemeth tested what happens when dissent is assigned rather than authentic": Charlan J. Nemeth, Joanie B. Connell, John D. Rogers, and Keith S. Brown, "Improving Decision Making by Means of Dissent," Journal of Applied Social Psychology 31, no. 1 (2001): 48–58. doi:10.1111/j.1559-1816.2001.tb02481.x. Groups deliberated a personal injury case under three conditions: authentic dissent (a genuine minority viewpoint), assigned devil's advocate (a member told to argue the opposing side), and no dissent. Authentic dissent was superior in stimulating consideration of opposing positions, original thought, and direct attitude change. The devil's advocate condition did not produce the same cognitive benefits, suggesting that groups detect and discount performative disagreement. https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/j.1559-1816.2001.tb02481.x. See also Charlan Nemeth, Keith Brown, and John Rogers, "Devil's Advocate versus Authentic Dissent: Stimulating Quantity and Quality," European Journal of Social Psychology 31, no. 6 (2001): 707–720. doi:10.1002/ejsp.58.

Dion and Nate are joined by Knicks superfan Doug Berns (@duglust) to evaluate the Knicks' recent slump and where the team goes from here as we get into the second half of the season. Thanks for listening! Subscribe to the podcast if you enjoyed and check us out on socials @twoforonehoops!

In dieser Folge des Experten-Podcasts spricht Stefan Oliver Berns, Leadership- und Veränderungsexperte, über die Überwindung von Verhaltensmustern und das Entfalten der eigenen Authentizität. Stefan erklärt, wie viele Menschen seit ihrer Kindheit angepasste Rollen übernommen haben, um Ablehnung zu vermeiden, und dadurch oft unter ihrer wahren Persönlichkeit leiden.Er zeigt praxisnah, wie Selbsterkenntnis, kleine Veränderungen im Alltag und gezielte Zielarbeit helfen, diese Muster zu durchbrechen. Dabei betont er, dass Veränderung im Kleinen beginnt – wie ein anderes Verhalten am Essplatz, ein bewusstes „Nein“ oder das Ausprobieren neuer Gewohnheiten – und sich langfristig auf das gesamte Leben auswirkt.Stefan teilt beeindruckende Beispiele aus seinen Seminaren, in denen Teilnehmer:innen Masken fallen lassen, ihre authentische Persönlichkeit entdecken und dadurch sowohl persönlich als auch beruflich freier und erfolgreicherwerden. Die Folge ist besonders wertvoll für alle, die Persönlichkeitsentwicklung, Führung, Authentizität und Selbstbewusstsein fördern möchten.https://www.derumdenker.de/ Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

 Amos 2:6–3:8 Genesis 37:1 - 40:23 Matteus 26:14-30Support the show

Live from Berns, Stockholm

Vi körde vår andra livepodd någonsin på ett fullsatt Berns biosalong. Nästan 400 personer kom och fick höra en hel trave roliga historier som skickats in, samt två sponant berättade självupplevda historier från två av besökarna. Stort tack till er båda och till alla ni andra som kom och förgyllde våran dag!Och extra mycket tack till er som skickat bidrag via våra Swish: Martina Jansson x6, David Burman x5, Malin Gille x2, Johanna Nyholm x2, Jon Andri Zogg, Markus Erlandsson, Marcus Lind, Martin Schori, Katja Lomarker, Sebastian Löfwrnhamn, Elin Bergman, Oscar Petersson, Katrin Andersson, Elina Fröjd, Magnus Granmyre, Dennis Jansson, Alexandra Grins, Astrid Ericson, Jim Jonsson, Simon Roshagen, Johanna Nyholm, Edward Eriksson, Emelie Forsblom, Nerima Ouma, Oscar Pettersson, Magnus Foss, Philip Tisting, Cilla Jarminde, Axel Skog, Malin Ervik, Kim Johansson, Jon Larsson, Anne Tysnes, Jonna Broberg, Pelle Eriksson, Helen Andersson och Erik Ekstrand! Hjältar är ni! Glöm inte att trycka på följknappen i din podspelare och gå gärna in och diskutera veckans avsnitt på våra sociala medier och om du lyssnar via Spotify kan även delta i våra olika omröstningar. Fred, kärlek och Fernet.Medverkande: Jesper Borgenstrand, Henrik Olsen, Agnes Fällman, Patrik TapperStöd oss på Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/HantparestaurangSwish: 1234 8689 64 - Hänt På ABFölj oss: FB: Hänt På Restaurang / Insta: Restaurangliv / TikTok: Hänt På Restaurang / Threads: RestauranglivMaila in din egen historia till: jesper@hantparestaurang.seSponsor / Annonsering: agnes@hantparestaurang.seMusik:Henrik Olsen - HPR ThemeFoto:Leo Josefsson / Light Box Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Last week, my guest was Oscar Arias, Nobel Peace Prize Laureate and former President of Costa Rica, who brought peace to Central America. This week, I continue to prove that Chatter That Matters has no boundaries, only journeys of those who overcome, who chase, who change their world and ours for the better. My guest is Rima Berns-McGowan, a woman who has devoted her life to making the world a better place. She has walked many paths—scholar, author, community builder, politician and then made one of the most unexpected and courageous pivots imaginable: leaving politics to become a Medium connecting those who live here with those who have departed. What ties it all together is her conviction in tikkun olam, a jewish concept meaning reapir of the world. Whether through evidence-based research, community activism, or channelling messages of love and healing from those who've passed, Rima's life is devoted to building inclusion, belonging, and hope. In this conversation, we explore: How her family's escape from apartheid South Africa shaped her identity and lifelong quest for justice. The lessons she's learned from academia, politics, and the people she's served. Why she believes our ancestors never leave us, and how as a Medium she can help bring messages from the other side that brings healing and forgiveness. What her journey teaches us about choosing good over cynicism, compassion over division, and possibility over despair. Suspend disbelief. Open your heart and listen to the many wonderful messages from Rima Berns-McGown, the Medium. Presented by RBC, because they believe in stories of human possibility.   To learn more about Rima: IG - @rimabernsm or rimabythesea.com      

What does fearless leadership look like in the landscaping industry?In this episode of The Landscaper's Guide, Peggy Berns shares how she built a thriving landscaping business through strong leadership, a focus on her team, and the courage to make bold decisions.You'll hear Peggy's journey, including:How she overcame early challenges in businessThe leadership principles that helped her build a strong, loyal teamHer advice for landscapers who want to grow their company without losing controlWhether you're running one truck or a growing fleet, this conversation will give you actionable insights to lead with confidence and build a thriving landscaping business.Show Notes:Watch the full episode + see the transcript at: https://landscapersguide.com/podcast/Tell us where to send your beef jerky: https://landscapersguide.com/toolboxConnect with Peggy Berns- Phone: 586-350-5993 - Website: bernslandscape.com See upcoming live + virtual events: landscapersguide.com/events 

We lezen meer met de synagoge: Deut.3:23-7:11, Jes.40:1-26, en Hebr.12:18-2De komende 7 weken staat de vertroosting na Gods oordelen centraal. Mozes en het volk mochten de berg Horeb niet naderen of aanraken voordat zij de stem van de shofar een langgerekte hoorden geven. Maar die Stem en de verschijnselen waren zo ontzagwekkend dat zij enkel vreze en beving waren. Zij zagen dat de HEERE een verterend vuur is. Het volk verzocht de stem uit het vuur niet langer te hoeven horen.Daar ontvingen zij het eerste verbond en de verbondsvoorwaarden, de tien woorden. Gehoorzaamheid zou hen wijsheid en leven geven en het land doen beërven. Volken en hun afgoden zouden erdoor onderworpen en verdreven worden. Wanneer het volk echter zou nalaten om tegen de afgodendienaars te strijden en hun afgoden weg te doen, dan zou hun dat opbreken en doen struikelen. Allen die Baal-Peor achterna liepen hebben dat echter met de dood moeten bekopen. Je kunt de tien geboden niet ongestraft vervangen door geboden van mensen en overheden. In onze maatschappij zie je dat echter op alle fronten wel gebeuren. In Zweden heeft men onlangs zelfs het Satanisme in de wet als religie erkent. In Amerika vernielen ze de monumenten voor de tien geboden en vervangen die voor afgodsbeelden.Paulus waarschuwt in Hebr.12: 25 Ziet dan toe, dat gij Hem, die spreekt, niet afwijst. Want als genen niet ontkomen zijn, toen zij Hem afwezen, die zijn godsspraak op aarde deed horen, hoeveel te minder wij, als wij ons afwenden van Hem, die uit de hemelen (spreekt). Onze God is een verterend vuur. Zij hebben Hem afgewezen. Daardoor zijn zij in ballingschap gegaan. Maar Hij zal hen vertroosten en doen terugkeren tot Tsion Jesaja 51: 4 en tot Torah, tot Hemzelf.  Want wij zijn genaderd tot de berg Tsion, de stad van de grote Koning, tot God, de Rechter over allen. Van Tsion zal zijn scepter, de Torah uitgaan naar alle volken, Jesaja 2:3 en wij zullen naar de Stem van de goede Herder horen en vrede vinden. Hoe zouden we kunnen en durven naderen zonder een volmaakte Middelaar die Zijn levensbloed, Zijn ziel ten borg stelde voor u en voor mij.Presentator,Robert BernsSupport the show

Stefan O.Berns ist Coach und Trainer für Soft Skills und bietet Seminare an, um Menschen aus limitierenden und angstgesteuerten Denkmustern zu befreien. Die Kraft der eigenen Kompetenzen und den Spaß am Lernen und der Selbstreflexion wieder zu entdecken sind die Ansatzpunkte seiner Arbeit. In dieser Podcastfolge erfährst Du wie sich eine klare Gesprächsführung, Fehlerkultur, Selbstverantwortung und Entscheidungskraft gelungen zusammenfügen können. Dir hat diese Podcast-Folge gefallen? Du hast Anregungen oder Wünsche? Dann freue ich mich über eine Bewertung bei Apple Podcasts:https://www.hermannscherer.com/podcast----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Mein Geschenk an DichMein "sichtbar"-Buch: https://www.hermannscherer.com/sichtbarMeine Online-KurseOnline-Kurs: In wenigen Tagen zum eigenen BuchOnline-Kurs: Qualität sichtbar machenOnline-Kurs: Soforthilfe Online KursMeine Social-Media-KanäleFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/hermannscherer/Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hermannscherer_officialExklusive Facebook-Community: https://www.facebook.com/hermannscherer/communityNewsletter per WhatsAppwww.hermannscherer.com/whatsappnews Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

For a long time, sales have been all about the money, closing deals, and hitting targets. But today, our guest completely reversed that idea! Join Deborah as she talks with Ronda Berns about the power of a customer-centric sales approach. Get ready to rethink everything you thought you knew about sales because this episode will change how you do business forever! Stay tuned! Here are the things to expect in the episode:Ronda's journey into sales.The importance of a customer-centric approach and what that really looks like.Practical tips for nurturing genuine relationships with clients.Why follow-up is critical to business and sales success.Negotiation techniques that prioritize adding value over simply lowering price.And much more! About Ronda:Ronda Berns, principal, trainer, and coach of Ronda Berns Sales Consulting & Coaching, has over 30 years of sales leadership experience across corporate and non-profit sectors. Through her sales training and coaching programs, she empowers solopreneurs, entrepreneurs, and sales teams to master customer-centric sales techniques, providing a framework to identify and connect with ideal clients and build long-term relationships. Ronda's unique approach to sales inspires her clients to grow, thrive, and excel in their businesses. Connect with Ronda Berns!Website: https://www.rondaberns.com/LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/rondabernsSales Training Program: https://www.rondaberns.com/sales-strategy-and-skills-training-for-success Book Recommendation:How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie   Connect with Deborah Kevin:Website: www.deborahkevin.comSubstack: https://debbykevin.substack.com/Instagram: www.instagram.com/debbykevinwriterLinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/deborah-kevin/Book Recommendations: https://bookshop.org/shop/storytellher Check out Highlander Press:Website: www.highlanderpressbooks.comTikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@highlanderpressInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/highlanderpressFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/highlanderpress

Nate and Dion are joined by Doug Berns (@duglust) to discuss the Knicks' hiring of Mike Brown as their next head coach, bringing in Jordan Clarkson and Geurschon Yabusele as free agents, and much more. Thanks for listening!

We lezen: Numeri 13:1-15:41, Galaten 2:3 en de Haftarah Jozua 2:1-24Verspieders verkennen een land , een stad en haar inwoners om na te speuren hoe de stad is te veroveren en het land is in te nemen. Verkennen in het Hebreeuws is – רָגַל ragal doorwandelen, doorzoeken, indrukken opdoen.Het zelfstandig naamwoord is רֶגֶל regel – voet(-zoo), voetstap. Zoals in Jozua 1:3 Elke plaats die uw voetzool betreden zal, geef Ik u.De HEERE Zelf ging in de woestijn drie dagreizen vooruit om de volgende pleisterplaats voor Zijn volk na te speuren –  תּוּר tuwr – Numeri 10:33.In de parashat zendt Mozes op het bevel van de Heilige Israëls 12 verspieders uit met eenzelfde opdracht: “Mozes dan zond hen uit om het land Kanaän te verspieden en zei tot hen: Trekt hier het Zuiderland in en trekt op naar het bergland – עָלָה `alah –, en ziet, hoe het land is, Numeri 13:17. Van dit werkwoord zijn afgeleid Alija la Regel “opgaan naar de voet –  dat is de stad van David en het Heiligdom” en Olim – degenen die opgaan.Je zet je voet op het land (en op de nek van je vijanden) als teken dat je het erfelijk in bezit neemt. Dat gaat niet zonder slag of stoot, maar de HEERE gaat hen met Zijn legerscharen voor in de strijd. Het land is goed naar het oordeel van alle 12 verspieders. De reuzen, Enakieten zijn groot, voor 10 verspieders te groot, omdat zij de HEERE niet volkomen volgen in Zijn voetstappen. Wanneer je hart verdeeld is ben je geen betrouwbaar verkenner en getuige. Je opdracht was om de weg te vinden die de HEERE al gegeven had tot de overwinning.Want de schrik voor Hem lag op alle volken rondom, zoals Rachab tegen de verspieders in Jericho getuigde. En de Enakieten  waren al eerder verslagen in de omringende landen. Deut.2: 20-22 De Ammonieten noemden de Enakieten, Zamzummieten, een groot en talrijk volk, lang als de Enakieten, maar de HERE had hen verdreven en verdelgd, zodat genen hun gebied in bezit genomen en zich in hun plaats gevestigd hadden; evenals Hij voor de zonen van Esau gedaan had, die in Seïr wonen: vóór wie Hij de Chorieten verdreven en verdelgd had, zodat genen hun gebied in bezit genomen hadden en daar in hun plaats wonen tot op de huidige dag. We zullen reuzen op de weg van de HEER tegen komen, maar in de Naam van de HEERE, treden we hen tegemoet.Support the show

Doug Berns, AKA 'Duglust' the musician behind the incredible New York Knicks recap videos joins Adam to talk about how he creates each video, some of his favorite ones, being featured on "Roommates Show" with Jalen Brunson & Josh Hart, and how he teamed up with Ben Stiller for a playoff recap video. Adam and Bob Stew break down the Knicks chaotic coaching search and which names would be considered a win, after they fired Tom Thibodeau. 

Without Cover Crops... we wouldn't be able to farm or garden regeneratively. They fill a critical role by imitating how natural ecosystems work, but there's so much MORE to it! Join us for a very special conversation with Keith Berns of Green Cover Seed ( ⁨@GreenCoverSeed⁩ ) as we talk about the details, the nuance, and the POWER of Cover Crops!! Get Your Cover Crop Seed Here: https://greencover.com Join Keith in the Field with Nicole Masters: https://greencover.com/nexus-in-the-field-with-nicole-masters/ Future GreenCover Events: https://greencover.com/events/ Watch on Youtube: https://youtu.be/4jac3orvf5o

Nektar bildades hösten 2023, när Ilean Arvman Nelson just börjat gymnasiet och skolkade från ett svenskprov för att skriva en låt på svenska. Han spelade upp den för sin kompis Isak Zander som blev trummis i Nektar, där även basisten Elliot Axelsson Olsson, gitarristen Leo Larsson och keyboardisten Zion Merking ingår. I fjol blev Nektars debutalbum "Magnolia" en stor kritikerframgång och bandet utnämndes till "årets genombrott" av tidningen Gaffas läsare. Nu hälsar Ilean Arvman Nelson och Zion Merking på hemma hos Strage för att prata om texter som inspirerats av att gå hem tidigt från klassfester, om att ta hand om unga fans som kollapsar, om låten som de tycker är den bästa som skrivits på svenska (Solens "Fjärran stränder"), om sina barndomsminnen av Kents "Tigerdrottningen" och om när Strage nyligen skrev upp dem på gästlistan till Kent-efterfesten på Berns där de, efter att ha nekats av vakterna, fick smugglas in via köksingången. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Dr. Ryan Berns sits in for Mark Husen from Bellin Sports Medicine. Jim & John chat with Dr.Berns about innovative approaches in athlete care and the upcoming NFL Draft's medical logistics. Then, Todd Magnuson from Rock 'N Roll Land shares the allure of vinyl records and the buzz around National Record Store Day. Plus, we welcome local artist Spencer Nolan Young, who captures Packer history by painting using just a football and cleats, all while discussing the vibrant local arts scene. If you're unfamiliar with Spencer's work, check out his website HERE. It's a whirlwind of music, art, and cutting-edge sports medicine. Maino and the Mayor is a part of the Civic Media radio network and airs Monday through Friday from 6-9 am on WGBW in Green Bay and on WISS in Appleton/Oshkosh. Subscribe to the podcast to be sure not to miss out on a single episode! To learn more about the show and all of the programming across the Civic Media network, head over to https://civicmedia.us/shows to see the entire broadcast lineup. Follow the show on Facebook and X to keep up with Maino and the Mayor! Guests: Spencer Young, Todd Magnuson, Dr. Ryan Berns

Dr. Ryan Berns sits in for Mark Husen from Bellin Sports Medicine. Jim & John chat with Dr.Berns about innovative approaches in athlete care and the upcoming NFL Draft's medical logistics. Then, Todd Magnuson from Rock 'N Roll Land shares the allure of vinyl records and the buzz around National Record Store Day. Plus, we welcome local artist Spencer Nolan Young, who captures Packer history by painting using just a football and cleats, all while discussing the vibrant local arts scene. If you're unfamiliar with Spencer's work, check out his website HERE. It's a whirlwind of music, art, and cutting-edge sports medicine. Maino and the Mayor is a part of the Civic Media radio network and airs Monday through Friday from 6-9 am on WGBW in Green Bay and on WISS in Appleton/Oshkosh. Subscribe to the podcast to be sure not to miss out on a single episode! To learn more about the show and all of the programming across the Civic Media network, head over to https://civicmedia.us/shows to see the entire broadcast lineup. Follow the show on Facebook and X to keep up with Maino and the Mayor! Guests: Spencer Young, Todd Magnuson, Dr. Ryan Berns

Follow Mike and Alex on YouTube Mike and Alex interview Doug B. the Knicks metal recap song guy. Follow him on X and IG @duglust They discuss the following topics: - Method to the song production - Idea for songs - Mikal Bridges trade and how it effected the Knicks and the Nets - Knicks ceiling this year - Why does Thibs hate Tyler Kolek? - What potential song would Thibs sing with him? Follow us on Twitter/X: Show - @BadWeatherFans Mike - @MikeDeliversPod Alex - @KnicksCentral Use promo code BWF on DraftKings for special promotions and offers.

In this best of episode of Humble and Fred, Toronto Mike'd dusts off a chat with the late great Don Berns. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Mark 7:24-30

Dr. Ryan Berns sits in for Mark Husen from Bellin Sports Medicine! Dr. Ryan Berns is Bellin's new Sports Medicine Physician and Medical Director. Dr. Berns tells us a bit about his background but also about some of the injuries that are becoming more prevalent, especially for young athletes who begin specializing in a single sport at an early age. He really suggests being active in a few sports rather than focusing on just one. Then, Terry Charles with PMI joins to promote this weekend's Monster Jam at the Resch Center! Driver Matt Cody joins to talk about his experience in the sport. Matt wasn't even old enough to drive when he started working on monster trucks as an eighth grader. Growing up in Maryland, he was centrally located to assist Mike Vaters of Black Stallion, who provided Cody with early education by allowing the youngster to serve as a crew member. Maino and the Mayor is a part of the Civic Media radio network and airs Monday through Friday from 6-9 am on WGBW in Green Bay and on WISS in Appleton/Oshkosh. Subscribe to the podcast to be sure not to miss out on a single episode! To learn more about the show and all of the programming across the Civic Media network, head over to https://civicmedia.us/shows to see the entire broadcast lineup. Follow the show on Facebook and X to keep up with Maino and the Mayor! Guests: Terry Charles, Dr. Ryan Berns

Dr. Ryan Berns sits in for Mark Husen from Bellin Sports Medicine! Dr. Ryan Berns is Bellin's new Sports Medicine Physician and Medical Director. Dr. Berns tells us a bit about his background but also about some of the injuries that are becoming more prevalent, especially for young athletes who begin specializing in a single sport at an early age. He really suggests being active in a few sports rather than focusing on just one. Then, Terry Charles with PMI joins to promote this weekend's Monster Jam at the Resch Center! Driver Matt Cody joins to talk about his experience in the sport. Matt wasn't even old enough to drive when he started working on monster trucks as an eighth grader. Growing up in Maryland, he was centrally located to assist Mike Vaters of Black Stallion, who provided Cody with early education by allowing the youngster to serve as a crew member. Maino and the Mayor is a part of the Civic Media radio network and airs Monday through Friday from 6-9 am on WGBW in Green Bay and on WISS in Appleton/Oshkosh. Subscribe to the podcast to be sure not to miss out on a single episode! To learn more about the show and all of the programming across the Civic Media network, head over to https://civicmedia.us/shows to see the entire broadcast lineup. Follow the show on Facebook and X to keep up with Maino and the Mayor! Guests: Terry Charles, Dr. Ryan Berns

Jahan shares her powerful journey of healing from childhood trauma, emphasizing the role of faith and the power of the Word of God in her recovery. The discussion includes the importance of vulnerability, the healing found in communal prayer, and how facing one's trauma can lead to transformative encounters with Jesus. • Jahan's traumatic childhood experience in Uganda • The significant role of asking Jesus where he was in moments of pain • The healing power of vulnerability and sharing one's story • Emphasizing the Word of God as a source of strength and healing • Insights from a recent healing retreat and its community impact • The transformative journey of using pain for purposeFor more information contact us atrtrdestiny@gmail.com

Full Court Press: THE SHOCKING LUKA TRADE And Other NBA Trade Deadline Mayhem An Interview With: Musician, Knicks Fanatic & Creator of Doug B's Knicks Metal Recaps Doug BernsAnd Also: Ted Lasso's Mustache, Bangkok Comedy Club, Pu Pu Platter, Thanos's Glove, Scary Town, Knicks Mix, Knicks Tape, Ethical Fandom, Leader Of The Vibes, DEUUUUUCE, Monumental F**k Ups, Tingis Pingis, Knicks Bars, 37 Pack Sponsor: Shaker and Spoon! Get $20 off your first box at www.shakerandspoon.com/horse  Find Us Online- website: horsehoops.com- patreon: patreon.com/horsehoops- twitter: twitter.com/horse_hoops- instagram: instagram.com/horsehoops- facebook: facebook.com/horsehoops HORSE is hosted by Mike Schubert and Adam Mamawala. Edited by Kensei Tsurumaki. Theme song by Bettina Campomanes. Art by Allyson Wakeman. Website by Kelly Schubert. About UsOn HORSE, we don't analyze wins and losses. We talk beefs (beeves?), dig into Internet drama, and have fun. The NBA is now a 365-day league and it's never been more present in pop culture. From Kevin Durant's burner accounts to LeBron taking his talents anywhere to trusting the Process, the NBA is becoming a pop culture requirement. At the same time, sports can have gatekeepers that make it insular and frustrating for people who aren't die hard fans. We're here to prove that basketball is entertaining to follow for all fans, whether you're actively watching the games or not. Featured in The New York Times!

Is the Kingdom of God present, future or both?

Mark 4:21-34

What if you found light amidst the darkest times? Jahan Berns shares her compelling journey from the chaos of a war-torn Uganda to the peace and hope she discovered through faith. Growing up surrounded by violence and loss, Jahan's story is one of resilience and redemption. Faced with the occult's pull during desperate moments, a British missionary boarding school became her sanctuary. There, the profound impact of faith and scripture brought healing and renewed strength to her life, shaping her path toward resilience and triumph over adversity.Jahan's story doesn't stop in Uganda; it extends to her rise in America, where success met a divine calling. From a flourishing career as an attorney, Jahan felt the profound call to full-time ministry, leading to the creation of Triumph of Hope. Her transformative experiences and prophetic encounters, particularly in 2020, affirmed her path. Jahan's narrative underscores a universal truth: material success is fleeting without spiritual awakening and hope, serving as an anchor for the soul in a world in search of meaning.At Triumph of Hope, the mission is clear—preach the gospel, disciple believers, and cultivate prayer partnerships. We discuss their upcoming retreat, a transformative experience aimed at empowering participants with God's grace and love, inspired by scriptures like 2 Corinthians 9:8 and Isaiah 55. This retreat promises a refreshing burst of spiritual renewal, open to all, with scholarships ensuring accessibility for everyone. We close with a heartfelt prayer for listeners, inviting divine grace and protection into your lives. Join us in embracing a journey filled with divine hope and salvation.Triumph of Hope's Abound 30A retreat is on February 7th -9th 2025 in Watercolor / Santa Rosa Beach FL. For more info see the link below:Abound 30A Retreat: https://triumphofhope.com/events/abound-2025For more information contact us atrtrdestiny@gmail.com

På 70-talet gör han succé som den sjungande kosacken. I en stor vargpäls framträder Viktor Klimenko som en vild och romantisk kosack. Men pälsen känns snart för trång och kosackrekvisitan begränsande. Lyssna på alla avsnitt i Sveriges Radio Play. Viktor Klimenko slår igenom som schlagerartist i Finland på 60-talet. Men det är en helt annan repertoar som ska bana väg för honom i Sverige, Europa och världen. Med hjälp av kamraterna från reklambyråtiden, målningar av den ryske konstnären Ilja Repin, många paket cigaretter och några flaskor rödvin växer en vild och romantisk kosack fram. Skapelsen fullbordas när en kostymör som jobbat på Stockholms stadsteater köper ryska bordsdukar för att sy skjortor, flera meter nappaskinn, snickrar ihop patronbälten och som krona på verket – beställer en stor skinande vargpäls.På 70-talet uppträder Viktor Klimenko bland annat på Lorensbergsteatern och Trädgår'n i Göteborg, Kronprinsen i Malmö, Berns salonger och Hamburger Börs i Stockholm. 1981 ska bli Viktor Klimenkos stora genombrottsår på världsscenen. Krogshow på berömda kabarén Lido i Paris. Turné i Japan, Han ska få allt det han drömt om i hela sitt liv. Men istället kommer katastrofen. Året därpå skriver Pia Gadd i Expressen:“Exotisk, vild, rysk, fast finsk, vacker i mössa och vådligt stor päls. Damer belägrade hans visten i Sverige, ty det var dem han tilltalade mest. Själv var han alldeles oerhört trött på sin vackra mössa och päls. Insåg att de var bojor mer än hjälpmedel. De gånger han försökte lägga dem åt sidan kom succén av sig.”Medverkande: Viktor KlimenkoAnne Serner-Manninen, modedesigner och kostymörEn dokumentär av: Emil ÖstlundProducenter: Ola Hemström & Sofia KottorpDokumentären är gjord 2024.

It's Part 2 of our back to back GTWM with Mo and Mara!  Let's check out our callers! Caller #3 is John who is 25yrs old from Sydney.  John is dating his alpha boss and shes 10 years older than him. The relationship is on the rocks but he can't break up with her because he needs the job for his visa. Caller #4 is Berns who is 38yrs old from Dubai.  Berns' was witness to an abusive workplace relationship that he eventually had to tell the boss about.  Shit went crazy and Berns wants to know  if he did the right thing at the right time. GTWM has a new sponsor! Ito ang first online live streaming bingo sa Pinas na pwede kang maglaro at mag-enjoy sa halagang 1 peso! I-download lang ang BingoPlus app sa Google Play and App Store, or visit www.bingoplus.com⁠ to learn more. BingoPlus! The first online poker casino in the Philippines. Licensed by Pagcor. Gaming is for 21-year-olds and above only. Keep it fun. Game Responsibly! We will see you on another episode of GTWM tomorrow. Thanks for the download and please support the podcast by donating as little as $0.99 cents via Spotify --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/djmotwister/support

Gäster: Emma-Lee Andersson, Angelina ”Ängie” Douleur, Jack Moy, Rasmus Wimby För 90SEK/mån får du 5 avsnitt i veckan: 4 Vanliga AMK MORGON + AMK FREDAG med Isak Wahlberg Gå på Frej Larsson på Berns 12 oktober: https://billetto.se/e/larssons-frestelser-biljetter-1013436 Önska Karakou till Gröna Lund 2025: https://faq.gronalund.com/support/tickets/new Relevanta länkar: …Henrik Brandão Jönsson https://www.svt.se/nyheter/inrikes/tipsade-om-sexkop-i-radio-blev-utslangd https://www.expressen.se/noje/henrik-brandao-jonsson-tipsade-om-sexkop-i-p4/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLr-FF0yeFU https://brandao.se/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/Brandao-sliten-VM-2014.jpg …Martin Wallström https://cinetaste.se/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/beck-inferno_6578c71f3d354-1024x683.jpg …kvinnan med sitt enda ben https://www.aftonbladet.se/nyheter/a/QMjeLx/kvinna-skjuten-tva-ganger-i-benen-av-polis …Russel Brand om diddy https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAvR4i_x_H2/?igsh=MTk3Mm5lOHNtNndhNg%3D%3D …Jaguar Wright https://www.youtube.com/shorts/meVQNBvI9ZI …Unsolved Mysteries https://www.netflix.com/watch/81682394?trackId=255824129 https://unsolved.com/gallery/mysterious-mutilations/ Låtarna som spelades var: BAYRAKTAR is Life - Taras Borovko Every little thing she does is magic - The Police Rebirth Of Slick - Digable Planets Alla låtar finns i AMK Morgons spellista här: https://open.spotify.com/user/amk.morgon/playlist/6V9bgWnHJMh9c4iVHncF9j?si=so0WKn7sSpyufjg3olHYmg Stötta oss gärna på Swish, varje litet bidrag uppskattas enormt! 123 646 2006

Chip Scoggins, Ryan Burns and Justin Gaard review the Gophers 27-24 loss to Michigan on the pod this week. They start by introducing a new member that joined from Michigan Stadium (Randy Berns) before discussing the Big Ten all but admitting the refs screwed up the offsides on the onside kick. There were many things that led to the loss that are also part of the conversation. We wrap it up with some Alabama/Georgia talk and thoughts on the Big Ten/SEC meetings coming up this month. 

Keith Berns, co-founder of Green Cover Seed, is a key figure in the regenerative agriculture movement. Raised on a farm in South Central Nebraska, Keith was a teacher for 10 years before returning to the family farm in 1998, where he and his brother Brian adopted no-till techniques. In 2006, they got introduced to multi-species cover crops, which transformed their farming approach.  Inspired by the positive effects of diverse cover crops on soil moisture retention, plant health, and livestock, Keith and Brian co-founded Green Cover Seed in 2009. The company has since grown significantly, now providing seed for over a million acres annually and playing a pivotal role in promoting regenerative farming practices across the U.S. In this episode, John and Keith discuss: Experimentations that led to diverse cover crop systems Moisture efficiency in multi-species cover crops Weed management through cover crops Increased livestock performance with diverse pasture Nutrient cycling with broadleaf cover crops Additional Resources To learn more about Keith and Green Cover Seeds, please visit: https://greencover.com/ To download Green Cover's Soil Resource Guide, please visit: https://greencover.com/freeguides/ To learn more about AEA's seed treatment products, please visit: https://advancingecoag.com/seed-treatments/   About John Kempf John Kempf is the founder of Advancing Eco Agriculture (AEA). A top expert in biological and regenerative farming, John founded AEA in 2006 to help fellow farmers by providing the education, tools, and strategies that will have a global effect on the food supply and those who grow it. Through intense study and the knowledge gleaned from many industry leaders, John is building a comprehensive systems-based approach to plant nutrition – a system solidly based on the sciences of plant physiology, mineral nutrition, and soil microbiology. Support For This Show & Helping You Grow Since 2006, AEA has been on a mission to help growers become more resilient, efficient, and profitable with regenerative agriculture.  AEA works directly with growers to apply its unique line of liquid mineral crop nutrition products and biological inoculants. Informed by cutting-edge plant and soil data-gathering techniques, AEA's science-based programs empower farm operations to meet the crop quality markers that matter the most. AEA has created real and lasting change on millions of acres with its products and data-driven services by working hand-in-hand with growers to produce healthier soil, stronger crops, and higher profits. Beyond working on the ground with growers, AEA leads in regenerative agriculture media and education, producing and distributing the popular and highly-regarded Regenerative Agriculture Podcast, inspiring webinars, and other educational content that serve as go-to resources for growers worldwide. Learn more about AEA's regenerative programs and products: https://www.advancingecoag.com  

The annual Big Bear Yoga Festival in the lovely Big Bear Mountain, Southern California is quickly approaching! All of the information you need is in this episode, and can also be found at www.bigbearyogafestival.com, Facebook-@bigbearyogafestival, and Instagram-@bigbearyogafest.    Take a listen to hear about how it all began and the amazing opportunities you will have to be a part of the arts and yoga inclusive community for two days in October. We hope to see you there. Keep listening to upcoming episodes so you can get to know some of the teachers and artists that will be there. 

Katie Berns is a designer and researcher coming from Ireland based now in Finland. At the moment her work focus now is in my research focused on Service Design for Climate Policy within the ICOS Cities project. In this interview we talk about food infrastructures, and understanding her work infrastructuring food waste activism. We talk about a concept for a smart fridge and a way of doing participatory action research with communities.  This is the second episode of a series on Infrastructures. This is a series of 5 interviews to people based or coming from: Ireland, Finland,  Denmark, France and the United States. The main focus is in understanding the possible role of design in infrastructures. This series is part of the work done for the EU project: IRISCC. Integrated Research Infrastructure Services for Climate Change Risks. In this project we will develop services using a co-design framework. Therefore, my main question is how design could contribute to the development of services? This interview is part of the lists: D&D in English, Infrastructures, Alimentos y diseño, Comida y diseño, Irlanda y diseño, Finlandia y diseño y Activismo y diseño.

In this weeks episode of Con Job, Ryan and Alexa are joined by Lara Berns from Game of Ham. This time she finally explains what it is and we also do a review of Terrificon, which took place August 16-18 in Uncasville, CT at the Mohegan Sun Casino. Stick around for a funny story about my travels home at the end. You're gonna love it....I think. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/conjob/support

  Gregory Berns, M.D., Ph.D. is the Distinguished Professor of Neuroeconomics in the Psychology Department at Emory University, where he directs the Center for Neuropolicy and Facility for Education and Research in Neuroscience. He pioneered the use of brain imaging technologies to understand human motivation and decision-making. Now, he uses MRI techniques to study the brains and minds of both humans and a wide range of other animals. Dr. Berns is the author of What It's Like to Be a Dog, the New York Times and Wall Street Journal bestseller, How Dogs Love Us, Iconoclast, Satisfaction, and The Self Delusion. Dr. Berns and his wife live on a farm outside of Atlanta with several dogs, chickens, and some very special cows.

Zachary Berns, a ComEd EnergyForce Ambassador from Shining Abilities, sits down on this Special Chronicles Podcast's EnergyForce Series S7:Pt5 with Award-winning Podcast Host Daniel Smrokowski as we spotlight his story and how his organization is serving families in Lake and McHenry Counties through recreational programming for individuals with developmental disabilities. From Challenges to Accomplishments, Becoming an EnergyForce Ambassador, Skills Learned as an EnergyForce Ambassador, Mission of Shining Abilities, Vocational Day Program, Unforgettable Engagements: Pulling the Punch and Shining at Craft Shows, and we dive into Special Olympics Sports Programming. Episode 590 ShowNotes & Links:

Antisemite, Creep, YouTuber :( One of the TERFs movement's favourite stage 4 terminally online posters, and the springboard for J. K. Rowling's outing as an anti-trans bigot. Watch in video at: https://www.youtube.com/@RespecttheDeadPodcast Want an exclusive video episode about Magdalen Berns? Sign up at ➡ https://www.patreon.com/RespectTheDead Hoots: https://www.youtube.com/@hootsyoutube // https://twitter.com/punishedhoots Caelan: https://www.youtube.com/@caelanconrad // https://twitter.com/caelanconrad

In this interview, Ajahn Kovilo and Ajahn Nisabho speak with Andrew Berns, a professor at the University of South Carolina, about his research into Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, and ancient traditions of magic, and their convergence with elements of Buddhist thought.

Spencer Berns of G3 Outfitters joins Garrett Wall on the Long Range Pursuit Podcast to highlight the massive opportunities you can leverage in New Mexico. Muzzleloaders open up a whole new slate of units and dates to those willing to take the plunge and learn the ins and outs of muzzleloading. https://www.g3outfitters.com/ https://www.gunwerks.com/ https://www.gunwerks.com/shop/magnus-mz8-rifle-system-22418?category=43#attr=2501,2521,2440,2406,2411,3780,2424,2465,2453,2515,2461,2486,2498,2511,4964  

Join Alex and Greg for an enlightening discussion on Francis Bacon with esteemed guests Martin Yaffe and Nathan Dinneen, editors of The Political Philosophy of Francis Bacon: With Special Attention to the Principles of Foreign Policy. Delve into Bacon's philosophical contributions and their impact on modern thought. Explore his views on knowledge, science, and the human experience, offering fresh insights into this influential figure. 

Posted up at the M&R booth at ISS Long Beach, we say hi to this guy from Hello. Known for their merchandising and fulfillment for touring artists, Hello Merch has been servicing your favorite band since '08. Stoked we got to chat with Aaron Berns, and figure out just how he keeps an operation with so many moving parts running smoothly. Topics of discussion include: Making your lead printer your production manager, managing people, shadowing and training, production samples, pushing water based ink, dealing with on demand ordering, and chicken fingers in dimly lit Ubers.

With our December episode we continue our series on speech and censorship. We take up two essays which make the case for a particular kind of censorship: Walter Berns's “Pornography v. Democracy: The Case for Censorship” and Irving Kristol's “Pornography, Obscenity and the Case for Censorship.” Berns's essay was published in The Public Interest in […]

Episode 170 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "Astral Weeks", the early solo career of Van Morrison, and the death of Bert Berns.  Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a forty-minute bonus episode available, on "Stoned Soul Picnic" by Laura Nyro. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Errata At one point I, ridiculously, misspeak the name of Charles Mingus' classic album. Black Saint and the Sinner Lady is not about dinner ladies. Also, I say Warren Smith Jr is on "Slim Slow Slider" when I meant to say Richard Davis (Smith is credited in some sources, but I only hear acoustic guitar, bass, and soprano sax on the finished track). Resources As usual, I've created Mixcloud playlists, with full versions of all the songs excerpted in this episode. As there are so many Van Morrison songs in this episode, the Mixcloud is split into three parts, one, two, and three. The information about Bert Berns comes from Here Comes the Night: The Dark Soul of Bert Berns and the Dirty Business of Rhythm and Blues by Joel Selvin. I've used several biographies of Van Morrison. Van Morrison: Into the Music by Ritchie Yorke is so sycophantic towards Morrison that the word “hagiography” would be, if anything, an understatement. Van Morrison: No Surrender by Johnny Rogan, on the other hand, is the kind of book that talks in the introduction about how the author has had to avoid discussing certain topics because of legal threats from the subject. Howard deWitt's Van Morrison: Astral Weeks to Stardom is over-thorough in the way some self-published books are, while Clinton Heylin's Can You Feel the Silence? is probably the best single volume on the artist. Information on Woodstock comes from Small Town Talk by Barney Hoskyns. Ryan Walsh's Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968 is about more than Astral Weeks, but does cover Morrison's period in and around Boston in more detail than anything else. The album Astral Weeks is worth hearing in its entirety. Not all of the music on The Authorized Bang Collection is as listenable, but it's the most complete collection available of everything Morrison recorded for Bang. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before we start, a quick warning -- this episode contains discussion of organised crime activity, and of sudden death. It also contains excerpts of songs which hint at attraction to underage girls and discuss terminal illness. If those subjects might upset you, you might want to read the transcript rather than listen to the episode. Anyway, on with the show. Van Morrison could have been the co-writer of "Piece of My Heart". Bert Berns was one of the great collaborators in the music business, and almost every hit he ever had was co-written, and he was always on the lookout for new collaborators, and in 1967 he was once again working with Van Morrison, who he'd worked with a couple of years earlier when Morrison was still the lead singer of Them. Towards the beginning of 1967 he had come up with a chorus, but no verse. He had the hook, "Take another little piece of my heart" -- Berns was writing a lot of songs with "heart" in the title at the time -- and wanted Morrison to come up with a verse to go with it. Van Morrison declined. He wasn't interested in writing pop songs, or in collaborating with other writers, and so Berns turned to one of his regular collaborators, Jerry Ragavoy, and it was Ragavoy who added the verses to one of the biggest successes of Berns' career: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] The story of how Van Morrison came to make the album that's often considered his masterpiece is intimately tied up with the story we've been telling in the background for several episodes now, the story of Atlantic Records' sale to Warners, and the story of Bert Berns' departure from Atlantic. For that reason, some parts of the story I'm about to tell will be familiar to those of you who've been paying close attention to the earlier episodes, but as always I'm going to take you from there to somewhere we've never been before. In 1962, Bert Berns was a moderately successful songwriter, who had written or co-written songs for many artists, especially for artists on Atlantic Records. He'd written songs for Atlantic artists like LaVern Baker, and when Atlantic's top pop producers Leiber and Stoller started to distance themselves from the label in the early sixties, he had moved into production as well, writing and producing Solomon Burke's big hit "Cry to Me": [Excerpt: Solomon Burke, "Cry to Me"] He was the producer and writer or co-writer of most of Burke's hits from that point forward, but at first he was still a freelance producer, and also produced records for Scepter Records, like the Isley Brothers' version of "Twist and Shout", another song he'd co-written, that one with Phil Medley. And as a jobbing songwriter, of course his songs were picked up by other producers, so Leiber and Stoller produced a version of his song "Tell Him" for the Exciters on United Artists: [Excerpt: The Exciters, "Tell Him"] Berns did freelance work for Leiber and Stoller as well as the other people he was working for. For example, when their former protege Phil Spector released his hit version of "Zip-a-Dee-Do-Dah", they got Berns to come up with a knockoff arrangement of "How Much is that Doggie in the Window?", released as by Baby Jane and the Rockabyes, with a production credit "Produced by Leiber and Stoller, directed by Bert Berns": [Excerpt: Baby Jane and the Rockabyes, "How Much is that Doggie in the Window?"] And when Leiber and Stoller stopped producing work for United Artists, Berns took over some of the artists they'd been producing for the label, like Marv Johnson, as well as producing his own new artists, like Garnet Mimms and the Enchanters, who had been discovered by Berns' friend Jerry Ragovoy, with whom he co-wrote their "Cry Baby": [Excerpt: Garnet Mimms and the Enchanters, "Cry Baby"] Berns was an inveterate collaborator. He was one of the few people to get co-writing credits with Leiber and Stoller, and he would collaborate seemingly with everyone who spoke to him for five minutes. He would also routinely reuse material, cutting the same songs time and again with different artists, knowing that a song must be a hit for *someone*. One of his closest collaborators was Jerry Wexler, who also became one of his best friends, even though one of their earliest interactions had been when Wexler had supervised Phil Spector's production of Berns' "Twist and Shout" for the Top Notes, a record that Berns had thought had butchered the song. Berns was, in his deepest bones, a record man. Listening to the records that Berns made, there's a strong continuity in everything he does. There's a love there of simplicity -- almost none of his records have more than three chords. He loved Latin sounds and rhythms -- a love he shared with other people working in Brill Building R&B at the time, like Leiber and Stoller and Spector -- and great voices in emotional distress. There's a reason that the records he produced for Solomon Burke were the first R&B records to be labelled "soul". Berns was one of those people for whom feel and commercial success are inextricable. He was an artist -- the records he made were powerfully expressive -- but he was an artist for whom the biggest validation was *getting a hit*. Only a small proportion of the records he made became hits, but enough did that in the early sixties he was a name that could be spoken of in the same breath as Leiber and Stoller, Spector, and Bacharach and David. And Atlantic needed a record man. The only people producing hits for the label at this point were Leiber and Stoller, and they were in the process of stopping doing freelance work and setting up their own label, Red Bird, as we talked about in the episode on the Shangri-Las. And anyway, they wanted more money than they were getting, and Jerry Wexler was never very keen on producers wanting money that could have gone to the record label. Wexler decided to sign Bert Berns up as a staff producer for Atlantic towards the end of 1963, and by May 1964 it was paying off. Atlantic hadn't been having hits, and now Berns had four tracks he wrote and produced for Atlantic on the Hot One Hundred, of which the highest charting was "My Girl Sloopy" by the Vibrations: [Excerpt: The Vibrations, "My Girl Sloopy"] Even higher on the charts though was the Beatles' version of "Twist and Shout". That record, indeed, had been successful enough in the UK that Berns had already made exploratory trips to the UK and produced records for Dick Rowe at Decca, a partnership we heard about in the episode on "Here Comes the Night". Berns had made partnerships there which would have vast repercussions for the music industry in both countries, and one of them was with the arranger Mike Leander, who was the uncredited arranger for the Drifters session for "Under the Boardwalk", a song written by Artie Resnick and Kenny Young and produced by Berns, recorded the day after the group's lead singer Rudy Lewis died of an overdose: [Excerpt: The Drifters, "Under the Boardwalk"] Berns was making hits on a regular basis by mid-1964, and the income from the label's new success allowed Jerry Wexler and the Ertegun brothers to buy out their other partners -- Ahmet Ertegun's old dentist, who had put up some of the initial money, and Miriam Bienstock, the ex-wife of their initial partner Herb Abramson, who'd got Abramson's share in the company after the divorce, and who was now married to Freddie Bienstock of Hill and Range publishing. Wexler and the Erteguns now owned the whole label. Berns also made regular trips to the UK to keep up his work with British musicians, and in one of those trips, as we heard in the episode on "Here Comes the Night", he produced several tracks for the group Them, including that track, written by Berns: [Excerpt: Them, "Here Comes the Night"] And a song written by the group's lead singer Van Morrison, "Gloria": [Excerpt: Them, "Gloria"] But Berns hadn't done much other work with them, because he had a new project. Part of the reason that Wexler and the Erteguns had gained total control of Atlantic was because, in a move pushed primarily by Wexler, they were looking at selling it. They'd already tried to merge with Leiber and Stoller's Red Bird Records, but lost the opportunity after a disastrous meeting, but they were in negotiations with several other labels, negotiations which would take another couple of years to bear fruit. But they weren't planning on getting out of the record business altogether. Whatever deal they made, they'd remain with Atlantic, but they were also planning on starting another label. Bert Berns had seen how successful Leiber and Stoller were with Red Bird, and wanted something similar. Wexler and the Erteguns didn't want to lose their one hit-maker, so they came up with an offer that would benefit all of them. Berns' publishing contract had just ended, so they would set up a new publishing company, WEB IV, named after the initials Wexler, Ertegun, and Berns, and the fact that there were four of them. Berns would own fifty percent of that, and the other three would own the other half. And they were going to start up a new label, with seventeen thousand dollars of the Atlantic partners' money. That label would be called Bang -- for Bert, Ahmet, Neshui, and Gerald -- and would be a separate company from Atlantic, so not affected by any sale. Berns would continue as a staff producer for Atlantic for now, but he'd have "his own" label, which he'd have a proper share in, and whether he was making hits for Atlantic or Bang, his partners would have a share of the profits. The first two records on Bang were "Shake and Jerk" by Billy Lamont, a track that they licensed from elsewhere and which didn't do much, and a more interesting track co-written by Berns. Bob Feldman, Richard Gottehrer, and Jerry Goldstein were Brill Building songwriters who had become known for writing "My Boyfriend's Back", a hit for the Angels, a couple of years earlier: [Excerpt: The Angels, "My Boyfriend's Back"] With the British invasion, the three of them had decided to create their own foreign beat group. As they couldn't do British accents, they pretended to be Australian, and as the Strangeloves -- named after the Stanley Kubrick film Dr  Strangelove -- they released one flop single. They cut another single, a version of "Bo Diddley", but the label they released their initial record through didn't want it. They then took the record to Atlantic, where Jerry Wexler said that they weren't interested in releasing some white men singing "Bo Diddley". But Ahmet Ertegun suggested they bring the track to Bert Berns to see what he thought. Berns pointed out that if they changed the lyrics and melody, but kept the same backing track, they could claim the copyright in the resulting song themselves. He worked with them on a new lyric, inspired by the novel Candy, a satirical pornographic novel co-written by Terry Southern, who had also co-written the screenplay to Dr Strangelove. Berns supervised some guitar overdubs, and the result went to number eleven: [Excerpt: The Strangeloves, "I Want Candy"] Berns had two other songs on the hot one hundred when that charted, too -- Them's version of "Here Comes the Night", and the version of Van McCoy's song "Baby I'm Yours" he'd produced for Barbara Lewis. Three records on the charts on three different labels. But despite the sheer number of charting records he'd had, he'd never had a number one, until the Strangeloves went on tour. Before the tour they'd cut a version of "My Girl Sloopy" for their album -- Berns always liked to reuse material -- and they started performing the song on the tour. The Dave Clark Five, who they were supporting, told them it sounded like a hit and they were going to do their own version when they got home. Feldman, Gottehrer, and Goldstein decided *they* might as well have the hit with it as anyone else. Rather than put it out as a Strangeloves record -- their own record was still rising up the charts, and there's no reason to be your own competition -- they decided to get a group of teenage musicians who supported them on the last date of the tour to sing new vocals to the backing track from the Strangeloves album. The group had been called Rick and the Raiders, but they argued so much that the Strangeloves nicknamed them the Hatfields and the McCoys, and when their version of "My Girl Sloopy", retitled "Hang on Sloopy", came out, it was under the band name The McCoys: [Excerpt: The McCoys, "Hang on Sloopy"] Berns was becoming a major success, and with major success in the New York music industry in the 1960s came Mafia involvement. We've talked a fair bit about Morris Levy's connection with the mob in many previous episodes, but mob influence was utterly pervasive throughout the New York part of the industry, and so for example Richard Gottehrer of the Strangeloves used to call Sonny Franzese of the Colombo crime family "Uncle John", they were so close. Franzese was big in the record business too, even after his conviction for bank robbery. Berns, unlike many of the other people in the industry, had no scruples at all about hanging out with Mafiosi. indeed his best friend in the mid sixties was Tommy Eboli, a member of the Genovese crime family who had been in the mob since the twenties, starting out working for "Lucky" Luciano. Berns was not himself a violent man, as far as anyone can tell, but he liked the glamour of hanging out with organised crime figures, and they liked hanging out with someone who was making so many hit records. And so while Leiber and Stoller, for example, ended up selling Red Bird Records to George Goldner for a single dollar in order to get away from the Mafiosi who were slowly muscling in on the label, Berns had no problems at all in keeping his own label going. Indeed, he would soon be doing so without the involvement of Atlantic Records. Berns' final work for Atlantic was in June 1966, when he cut a song he had co-written with Jeff Barry for the Drifters, inspired by the woman who would soon become Atlantic's biggest star: [Excerpt: The Drifters, "Aretha"] The way Berns told the story in public, there was no real bad blood between him, Wexler, and the Erteguns -- he'd just decided to go his own way, and he said “I will always be grateful to them for the help they've given me in getting Bang started,” The way Berns' wife would later tell the story, Jerry Wexler had suggested that rather than Berns owning fifty percent of Web IV, they should start to split everything four ways, and she had been horrified by this suggestion, kicked up a stink about it, and Wexler had then said that either Berns needed to buy the other three out, or quit and give them everything, and demanded Berns pay them three hundred thousand dollars. According to other people, Berns decided he wanted one hundred percent control of Web IV, and raised a breach of contract lawsuit against Atlantic, over the usual royalty non-payments that were endemic in the industry at that point. When Atlantic decided to fight the lawsuit rather than settle, Berns' mob friends got involved and threatened to break the legs of Wexler's fourteen-year-old daughter, and the mob ended up with full control of Bang records, while Berns had full control of his publishing company. Given later events, and in particular given the way Wexler talked about Berns until the day he died, with a vitriol that he never used about any of the other people he had business disputes with, it seems likely to me that the latter story is closer to the truth than the former. But most people involved weren't talking about the details of what went on, and so Berns still retained his relationships with many of the people in the business, not least of them Jeff Barry, so when Barry and Ellie Greenwich had a new potential star, it was Berns they thought to bring him to, even though the artist was white and Berns had recently given an interview saying that he wanted to work with more Black artists, because white artists simply didn't have soul. Barry and Greenwich's marriage was breaking up at the time, but they were still working together professionally, as we discussed in the episode on "River Deep, Mountain High", and they had been the main production team at Red Bird. But with Red Bird in terminal decline, they turned elsewhere when they found a potential major star after Greenwich was asked to sing backing vocals on one of his songwriting demos. They'd signed the new songwriter, Neil Diamond, to Leiber and Stoller's company Trio Music at first, but they soon started up their own company, Tallyrand Music, and signed Diamond to that, giving Diamond fifty percent of the company and keeping twenty-five percent each for themselves, and placed one of his songs with Jay and the Americans in 1965: [Excerpt: Jay and the Americans, "Sunday and Me"] That record made the top twenty, and had established Diamond as a songwriter, but he was still not a major performer -- he'd released one flop single on Columbia Records before meeting Barry and Greenwich. But they thought he had something, and Bert Berns agreed. Diamond was signed to Bang records, and Berns had a series of pre-production meetings with Barry and Greenwich before they took Diamond into the studio -- Barry and Greenwich were going to produce Diamond for Bang, as they had previously produced tracks for Red Bird, but they were going to shape the records according to Berns' aesthetic. The first single released from Diamond's first session, "Solitary Man", only made number fifty-five, but it was the first thing Diamond had recorded to make the Hot One Hundred at all: [Excerpt: Neil Diamond, "Solitary Man"] The second single, though, was much more Bert Berns' sort of thing -- a three-chord song that sounded like it could have been written by Berns himself, especially after Barry and Greenwich had added the Latin-style horns that Berns loved so much. Indeed according to some sources, Berns did make a songwriting suggestion -- Diamond's song had apparently been called "Money Money", and Berns had thought that was a ridiculous title, and suggested calling it "Cherry Cherry" instead: [Excerpt: Neil Diamond, "Cherry Cherry"] That became Diamond's first top ten hit. While Greenwich had been the one who had discovered Diamond, and Barry and Greenwich were the credited producers on all Diamond's records  as a result, Diamond soon found himself collaborating far more with Barry than with Greenwich, so for example the first number one he wrote, for the Monkees rather than himself, ended up having its production just credited to Barry. That record used a backing track recorded in New York by the same set of musicians used on most Bang records, like Al Gorgoni on lead guitar and Russ Savakus on bass: [Excerpt: The Monkees, "I'm a Believer"] Neil Diamond was becoming a solid hit-maker, but he started rubbing up badly against Berns. Berns wanted hits and only hits, and Diamond thought of himself as a serious artist. The crisis came when two songs were under contention for Diamond's next single in late 1967, after he'd had a whole run of hits for the label. The song Diamond wanted to release, "Shilo", was deeply personal to him: [Excerpt: Neil Diamond, "Shilo"] But Bert Berns had other ideas. "Shilo" didn't sound like a hit, and he knew a hit when he heard one. No, the clear next single, the only choice, was "Kentucky Woman": [Excerpt: Neil Diamond, "Kentucky Woman"] But Berns tried to compromise as best he could. Diamond's contract was up for renewal, and you don't want to lose someone who has had, as Diamond had at that point, five top twenty hits in a row, and who was also writing songs like "I'm a Believer" and "Red Red Wine". He told Diamond that he'd let "Shilo" come out as a single if Diamond signed an extension to his contract. Diamond said that not only was he not going to do that, he'd taken legal advice and discovered that there were problems with his contract which let him record for other labels -- the word "exclusive" had been missed out of the text, among other things. He wasn't going to be recording for Bang at all any more. The lawsuits over this would stretch out for a decade, and Diamond would eventually win, but the first few months were very, very difficult for Diamond. When he played the Bitter End, a club in New York, stink bombs were thrown into the audience. The Bitter End's manager was assaulted and severely beaten. Diamond moved his wife and child out of Manhattan, borrowed a gun, and after his last business meeting with Berns was heard talking about how he needed to contact the District Attorney and hire a bodyguard. Of the many threats that were issued against Diamond, though, the least disturbing was probably the threat Berns made to Diamond's career. Berns pointed out to Diamond in no uncertain terms that he didn't need Diamond anyway -- he already had someone he could replace Diamond with, another white male solo singer with a guitar who could churn out guaranteed hits. He had Van Morrison: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl"] When we left Van Morrison, Them had just split up due to the problems they had been having with their management team. Indeed, the problems Morrison was having with his managers seem curiously similar to the issues that Diamond was having with Bert Berns -- something that could possibly have been a warning sign to everyone involved, if any of them had known the full details of everyone else's situation. Sadly for all of them, none of them did. Them had had some early singles success, notably with the tracks Berns had produced for them, but Morrison's opinion of their second album, Them Again, was less than complimentary, and in general that album is mostly only remembered for the version of Bob Dylan's "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue", which is one of those cover versions that inspires subsequent covers more than the original ever did: [Excerpt: Them, "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue"] Them had toured the US around the time of the release of that album, but that tour had been a disaster. The group had gained a reputation for incredible live shows, including performances at the Whisky A-Go-Go with the Doors and Captain Beefheart as their support acts, but during the tour Van Morrison had decided that Phil Solomon, the group's manager, was getting too much money -- Morrison had agreed to do the tour on a salary, rather than a percentage, but the tour had been more successful than he'd expected, and Solomon was making a great deal of money off the tour, money that Morrison believed rightfully belonged to him. The group started collecting the money directly from promoters, and got into legal trouble with Solomon as a result. The tour ended with the group having ten thousand dollars that Solomon believed -- quite possibly correctly -- that he was owed. Various gangsters whose acquaintance the group had made offered to have the problem taken care of, but they decided instead to come to a legal agreement -- they would keep the money, and in return Solomon, whose production company the group were signed to, would get to keep all future royalties from the Them tracks. This probably seemed a good idea at the time, when the idea of records earning royalties for sixty or more years into the future seemed ridiculous, but Morrison in particular came to regret the decision bitterly. The group played one final gig when they got back to Belfast, but then split up, though a version of the group led by the bass player Alan Henderson continued performing for a few years to no success. Morrison put together a band that played a handful of gigs under the name Them Again, with little success, but he already had his eyes set on a return to the US. In Morrison's eyes, Bert Berns had been the only person in the music industry who had really understood him, and the two worked well together. He had also fallen in love with an American woman, Janet Planet, and wanted to find some way to be with her. As Morrison said later “I had a couple of other offers but I thought this was the best one, seeing as I wanted to come to America anyway. I can't remember the exact details of the deal. It wasn't really that spectacular, money-wise, I don't think. But it was pretty hard to refuse from the point of view that I really respected Bert as a producer. I'd rather have worked with Bert than some other guy with a bigger record company. From that angle, it was spectacular because Bert was somebody that I wanted to work with.” There's little evidence that Morrison did have other offers -- he was already getting a reputation as someone who it was difficult to work with -- but he and Berns had a mutual respect, and on January the ninth, 1967, he signed a contract with Bang records. That contract has come in for a lot of criticism over the years, but it was actually, *by the standards in operation in the music business in 1967*, a reasonably fair one. The contract provided that, for a $2,500 a year advance, Bang would record twelve sides in the first year, with an option for up to fifty more that year, and options for up to four more years on the same terms. Bang had the full ownership of the masters and the right to do what they wanted with them. According to at least one biographer, Morrison added clauses requiring Bang to actually record the twelve sides a year, and to put out at least three singles and one album per year while the contract was in operation. He also added one other clause which seems telling -- "Company agrees that Company will not make any reference to the name THEM on phonograph records, or in advertising copy in connection with the recording of Artist." Morrison was, at first, extremely happy with Berns. The problems started with their first session: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl (takes 1-6)"] When Morrison had played the songs he was working on for Berns, Berns had remarked that they sounded great with just Morrison and his guitar, so Morrison was surprised when he got into the studio to find the whole standard New York session crew there -- the same group of session players who were playing for everyone from the Monkees to Laura Nyro, from Neil Diamond to the Shangri-Las -- along with the Sweet Inspirations to provide backing vocals. As he described it later "This fellow Bert, he made it the way he wanted to, and I accepted that he was producing it... I'd write a song and bring it into the group and we'd sit there and bash it around and that's all it was -- they weren't playing the songs, they were just playing whatever it was. They'd say 'OK, we got drums so let's put drums on it,' and they weren't thinking about the song, all they were thinking about was putting drums on it... But it was my song, and I had to watch it go down." The first song they cut was "Brown-Eyed Girl", a song which Morrison has said was originally a calypso, and was originally titled "Brown-skinned Girl", though he's differed in interviews as to whether Berns changed the lyric or if he just decided to sing it differently without thinking about it in the session. Berns turned "Brown-Eyed Girl" into a hit single, because that was what he tended to do with songs, and the result sounds a lot like the kind of record that Bang were releasing for Neil Diamond: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl"] Morrison has, in later years, expressed his distaste for what was done to the song, and in particular he's said that the backing vocal part by the Sweet Inspirations was added by Berns and he disliked it: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl"] Morrison has been very dismissive of "Brown-Eyed Girl" over the years, but he seems not to have disliked it at the time, and the song itself is one that has stood the test of time, and is often pointed to by other songwriters as a great example of the writer's craft. I remember reading one interview with Randy Newman -- sadly, while I thought it was in Paul Zollo's "Songwriters on Songwriting" I just checked that and it's not, so I can't quote it precisely -- in which he says that he often points to the line "behind the stadium with you" as a perfect piece of writing, because it's such a strangely specific detail that it convinces you that it actually happened, and that means you implicitly believe the rest of the song. Though it should be made very clear here that Morrison has always said, over and over again, that nothing in his songs is based directly on his own experiences, and that they're all products of his imagination and composites of people he's known. This is very important to note before we go any further, because "Brown-Eyed Girl" is one of many songs from this period in Morrison's career which imply that their narrator has an attraction to underage girls -- in this case he remembers "making love in the green grass" in the distant past, while he also says "saw you just the other day, my how you have grown", and that particular combination is not perhaps one that should be dwelt on too closely. But there is of course a very big difference between a songwriter treating a subject as something that is worth thinking about in the course of a song and writing about their own lives, and that can be seen on one of the other songs that Morrison recorded in these sessions, "T.B. Sheets": [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "T.B. Sheets"] It seems very unlikely indeed that Van Morrison actually had a lover die of tuberculosis, as the lover in the song does, and while a lot of people seem convinced that it's autobiographical, simply because of the intensity of the performance (Morrison apparently broke down in tears after recording it), nobody has ever found anyone in Morrison's life who fits the story in the song, and he's always ridiculed such suggestions. What is true though is that "T.B. Sheets" is evidence against another claim that Morrison has made in the past - that on these initial sessions the eight songs recorded were meant to be the A and B sides of four singles and there was no plan of making an album. It is simply not plausible at all to suggest that "T.B. Sheets" -- a slow blues about terminal illness, that lasts nearly ten minutes -- was ever intended as a single. It wouldn't have even come close to fitting on one side of a forty-five. It was also presumably at this time that Berns brought up the topic of "Piece of My Heart". When Berns signed Erma Franklin, it was as a way of getting at Jerry Wexler, who had gone from being his closest friend to someone he wasn't on speaking terms with, by signing the sister of his new signing Aretha. Morrison, of course, didn't co-write it -- he'd already decided that he didn't play well with others -- but it's tempting to think about how the song might have been different had Morrison written it. The song in some ways seems a message to Wexler -- haven't you had enough from me already? -- but it's also notable how many songs Berns was writing with the word "heart" in the chorus, given that Berns knew he was on borrowed time from his own heart condition. As an example, around the same time he and Jerry Ragavoy co-wrote "Piece of My Heart", they also co-wrote another song, "Heart Be Still", a flagrant lift from "Peace Be Still" by Aretha Franklin's old mentor Rev. James Cleveland, which they cut with Lorraine Ellison: [Excerpt: Lorraine Ellison, "Heart Be Still"] Berns' heart condition had got much worse as a result of the stress from splitting with Atlantic, and he had started talking about maybe getting open-heart surgery, though that was still very new and experimental. One wonders how he must have felt listening to Morrison singing about watching someone slowly dying. Morrison has since had nothing but negative things to say about the sessions in March 1967, but at the time he seemed happy. He returned to Belfast almost straight away after the sessions, on the understanding that he'd be back in the US if "Brown-Eyed Girl" was a success. He wrote to Janet Planet in San Francisco telling her to listen to the radio -- she'd know if she heard "Brown-Eyed Girl" that he would be back on his way to see her. She soon did hear the song, and he was soon back in the US: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Brown-Eyed Girl"] By August, "Brown-Eyed Girl" had become a substantial hit, making the top ten, and Morrison was back in the States. He was starting to get less happy with Berns though. Bang had put out the eight tracks he'd recorded in March as an album, titled Blowin' Your Mind, and Morrison thought that the crass pseudo-psychedelia of the title, liner notes, and cover was very inappropriate -- Morrison has never been a heavy user of any drugs other than alcohol, and didn't particularly want to be associated with them. He also seems to have not realised that every track he recorded in those initial sessions would be on the album, which many people have called one of the great one-sided albums of all time -- side A, with "Brown-Eyed Girl", "He Ain't Give You None" and the extended "T.B. Sheets" tends to get far more love than side B, with five much lesser songs on it. Berns held a party for Morrison on a cruise around Manhattan, but it didn't go well -- when the performer Tiny Tim tried to get on board, Carmine "Wassel" DeNoia, a mobster friend of Berns' who was Berns' partner in a studio they'd managed to get from Atlantic as part of the settlement when Berns left, was so offended by Tim's long hair and effeminate voice and mannerisms that he threw him overboard into the harbour. DeNoia was meant to be Morrison's manager in the US, working with Berns, but he and Morrison didn't get on at all -- at one point DeNoia smashed Morrison's acoustic guitar over his head, and only later regretted the damage he'd done to a nice guitar. And Morrison and Berns weren't getting on either. Morrison went back into the studio to record four more songs for a follow-up to "Brown-Eyed Girl", but there was again a misunderstanding. Morrison thought he'd been promised that this time he could do his songs the way he wanted, but Berns was just frustrated that he wasn't coming up with another "Brown-Eyed Girl", but was instead coming up with slow songs about trans women. Berns overdubbed party noises and soul backing vocals onto "Madame George", possibly in an attempt to copy the Beach Boys' Party! album with its similar feel, but it was never going to be a "Barbara Ann": [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Madame George (Bang version)"] In the end, Berns released one of the filler tracks from Blowin' Your Mind, "Ro Ro Rosey", as the next single, and it flopped. On December the twenty-ninth, Berns had a meeting with Neil Diamond, the meeting after which Diamond decided he needed to get a bodyguard. After that, he had a screaming row over the phone with Van Morrison, which made Berns ill with stress. The next day, he died of a heart attack. Berns' widow Ilene, who had only just given birth to a baby a couple of weeks earlier, would always blame Morrison for pushing her husband over the edge. Neither Van Morrison nor Jerry Wexler went to the funeral, but Neil Diamond did -- he went to try to persuade Ilene to let him out of his contract now Berns was dead. According to Janet Planet later, "We were at the hotel when we learned that Bert had died. We were just mortified, because things had been going really badly, and Van felt really bad, because I guess they'd parted having had some big fight or something... Even though he did love Bert, it was a strange relationship that lived and died in the studio... I remember we didn't go to the funeral, which probably was a mistake... I think [Van] had a really bad feeling about what was going to happen." But Morrison has later mostly talked about the more practical concerns that came up, which were largely the same as the ones Neil Diamond had, saying in 1997 "I'd signed a contract with Bert Berns for management, production, agency and record company,  publishing, the whole lot -- which was professional suicide as any lawyer will tell you now... Then the whole thing blew up. Bert Berns died and I was left broke." This was the same mistake, essentially, that he'd made with Phil Solomon, and in order to get out of it, it turned out he was going to have to do much the same for a third time.  But it was the experience with Berns specifically that traumatised Morrison enough that twenty-five years later he would still be writing songs about it, like "Big Time Operators": [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Big Time Operators"] The option to renew Morrison's contracts with Berns' companies came on the ninth of January 1968, less than two weeks after Berns' death. After his death, Berns' share of ownership in his companies had passed to his widow, who was in a quandary. She had two young children, one of whom was only a few weeks old, and she needed an income after their father had died. She was also not well disposed at all towards Morrison, who she blamed for causing her husband's death. By all accounts the amazing thing is that Berns lived as long as he did given his heart condition and the state of medical science at the time, but it's easy to understand her thinking. She wanted nothing to do with Morrison, and wanted to punish him. On the other hand, her late husband's silent partners didn't want to let their cash cow go. And so Morrison came under a huge amount of pressure in very different directions. From one side, Carmine DiNoia was determined to make more money off Morrison, and Morrison has since talked about signing further contracts at this point with a gun literally to his head, and his hotel room being shot up. But on the other side, Ilene Berns wanted to destroy Morrison's career altogether. She found out that Bert Berns hadn't got Morrison the proper work permits and reported him to the immigration authorities. Morrison came very close to being deported, but in the end he managed to escape deportation by marrying Janet Planet. The newly-married couple moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, to get away from New York and the mobsters, and to try to figure out the next steps in Morrison's career. Morrison started putting together a band, which he called The Van Morrison Controversy, and working on new songs. One of his earliest connections in Massachusetts was the lead singer of a band called the Hallucinations, who he met in a bar where he was trying to get a gig: [Excerpt: The Hallucinations, "Messin' With the Kid"] The Hallucinations' lead singer was called Peter Wolf, and would much later go on to become well-known as the singer with the J. Geils Band. He and Morrison became acquaintances, and later became closer friends when they realised they had another connection -- Wolf had a late-night radio show under the name Woofa Goofa, and he'd been receiving anonymous requests for obscure blues records from a fan of the show. Morrison had been the one sending in the requests, not realising his acquaintance was the DJ. Before he got his own band together, Morrison actually guested with the Hallucinations at one show they did in May 1968, supporting John Lee Hooker. The Hallucinations had been performing "Gloria" since Them's single had come out, and they invited Morrison to join them to perform it on stage. According to Wolf, Morrison was very drunk and ranted in cod-Japanese for thirty-five minutes, and tried to sing a different song while the band played "Gloria". The audience were apparently unimpressed, even though Wolf shouted at them “Don't you know who this man is? He wrote the song!” But in truth, Morrison was sick of "Gloria" and his earlier work, and was trying to push his music in a new direction. He would later talk about having had an epiphany after hearing one particular track on the radio: [Excerpt: The Band, "I Shall Be Released"] Like almost every musician in 1968, Morrison was hit like a lightning bolt by Music From Big Pink, and he decided that he needed to turn his music in the same direction. He started writing the song "Brand New Day", which would later appear on his album Moondance, inspired by the music on the album. The Van Morrison Controversy started out as a fairly straightforward rock band, with guitarist John Sheldon, bass player Tom Kielbania, and drummer Joey Bebo. Sheldon was a novice, though his first guitar teacher was the singer James Taylor, but the other two were students at Berklee, and very serious musicians. Morrison seems to have had various managers involved in rapid succession in 1968, including one who was himself a mobster, and another who was only known as Frank, but one of these managers advanced enough money that the musicians got paid every gig. These musicians were all interested in kinds of music other than just straight rock music, and as well as rehearsing up Morrison's hits and his new songs, they would also jam with him on songs from all sorts of other genres, particularly jazz and blues. The band worked up the song that would become "Domino" based on Sheldon jamming on a Bo Diddley riff, and another time the group were rehearsing a Grant Green jazz piece, "Lazy Afternoon": [Excerpt: Grant Green, "Lazy Afternoon"] Morrison started messing with the melody, and that became his classic song "Moondance": [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Moondance"] No recordings of this electric lineup of the group are known to exist, though the backing musicians remember going to a recording studio called Ace recordings at one point and cutting some demos, which don't seem to circulate. Ace was a small studio which, according to all the published sources I've read, was best known for creating song poems, though it was a minor studio even in the song-poem world. For those who don't know, song poems were essentially a con aimed at wannabe songwriters who knew nothing about the business -- companies would advertise you too could become a successful, rich, songwriter if you sent in your "song poems", because anyone who knew the term "lyric" could be presumed to know too much about the music business to be useful. When people sent in their lyrics, they'd then be charged a fee to have them put out on their very own record -- with tracks made more or less on a conveyor belt with quick head arrangements, sung by session singers who were just handed a lyric sheet and told to get on with it. And thus were created such classics prized by collectors as "I Like Yellow Things", "Jimmy Carter Says 'Yes'", and "Listen Mister Hat". Obviously, for the most part these song poems did not lead to the customers becoming the next Ira Gershwin, but oddly even though Ace recordings is not one of the better-known song poem studios, it seems to have produced an actual hit song poem -- one that I don't think has ever before been identified as such until I made a connection, hence me going on this little tangent. Because in researching this episode I noticed something about its co-owner, Milton Yakus', main claim to fame. He co-wrote the song "Old Cape Cod", and to quote that song's Wikipedia page "The nucleus of the song was a poem written by Boston-area housewife Claire Rothrock, for whom Cape Cod was a favorite vacation spot. "Old Cape Cod" and its derivatives would be Rothrock's sole evident songwriting credit. She brought her poem to Ace Studios, a Boston recording studio owned by Milton Yakus, who adapted the poem into the song's lyrics." And while Yakus had written other songs, including songs for Patti Page who had the hit with "Old Cape Cod", apparently Page recorded that song after Rothrock brought her the demo after a gig, rather than getting it through any formal channels. It sounds to me like the massive hit and classic of the American songbook "Old Cape Cod" started life as a song-poem -- and if you're familiar with the form, it fits the genre perfectly: [Excerpt: Patti Page, "Old Cape Cod"] The studio was not the classiest of places, even if you discount the song-poems. Its main source of income was from cutting private records with mobsters' wives and mistresses singing (and dealing with the problems that came along when those records weren't successful) and it also had a sideline in bugging people's cars to see if their spouses were cheating, though Milton Yakus' son Shelly, who got his start at his dad's studio, later became one of the most respected recording engineers in the industry -- and indeed had already worked as assistant engineer on Music From Big Pink. And there was actually another distant connection to Morrison's new favourite band on these sessions. For some reason -- reports differ -- Bebo wasn't considered suitable for the session, and in his place was the one-handed drummer Victor "Moulty" Moulton, who had played with the Barbarians, who'd had a minor hit with "Are You a Boy or Are You a Girl?" a couple of years earlier: [Excerpt: The Barbarians, "Are You a Boy or Are You a Girl?"] A later Barbarians single, in early 1966, had featured Moulty telling his life story, punctuated by the kind of three-chord chorus that would have been at home on a Bert Berns single: [Excerpt: The Barbarians, "Moulty"] But while that record was credited to the Barbarians, Moulton was the only Barbarian on the track, with the instruments and backing vocals instead being provided by Levon and the Hawks. Shortly after the Ace sessions, the Van Morrison Controversy fell apart, though nobody seems to know why. Depending on which musician's story you listen to, either Morrison had a dream that he should get rid of all electric instruments and only use acoustic players, or there was talk of a record deal but the musicians weren't good enough, or the money from the mysterious manager (who may or may not have been the one who was a mobster) ran out. Bebo went back to university, and Sheldon left soon after, though Sheldon would remain in the music business in one form or another. His most prominent credit has been writing a couple of songs for his old friend James Taylor, including the song "Bittersweet" on Taylor's platinum-selling best-of, on which Sheldon also played guitar: [Excerpt: James Taylor, "Bittersweet"] Morrison and Kielbania continued for a while as a duo, with Morrison on acoustic guitar and Kielbania on double bass, but they were making very different music. Morrison's biggest influence at this point, other than The Band, was King Pleasure, a jazz singer who sang in the vocalese style we've talked about before -- the style where singers would sing lyrics to melodies that had previously been improvised by jazz musicians: [Excerpt: King Pleasure, "Moody's Mood for Love"] Morrison and Kielbania soon decided that to make the more improvisatory music they were interested in playing, they wanted another musician who could play solos. They ended up with John Payne, a jazz flute and saxophone player whose biggest inspiration was Charles Lloyd. This new lineup of the Van Morrison Controversy -- acoustic guitar, double bass, and jazz flute -- kept gigging around Boston, though the sound they were creating was hardly what the audiences coming to see the man who'd had that "Brown-Eyed Girl" hit the year before would have expected -- even when they did "Brown-Eyed Girl", as the one live recording of that line-up, made by Peter Wolf, shows: [Excerpt: The Van Morrison Controversy, "Brown-Eyed Girl (live in Boston 1968)"] That new style, with melodic bass underpinning freely extemporising jazz flute and soulful vocals, would become the basis of the album that to this day is usually considered Morrison's best. But before that could happen, there was the matter of the contracts to be sorted out. Warner-Reprise Records were definitely interested. Warners had spent the last few years buying up smaller companies like Atlantic, Autumn Records, and Reprise, and the label was building a reputation as the major label that would give artists the space and funding they needed to make the music they wanted to make. Idiosyncratic artists with difficult reputations (deserved or otherwise), like Neil Young, Randy Newman, Van Dyke Parks, the Grateful Dead, and Joni Mitchell, had all found homes on the label, which was soon also to start distributing Frank Zappa, the Beach Boys, and Captain Beefheart. A surly artist who wants to make mystical acoustic songs with jazz flute accompaniment was nothing unusual for them, and once Joe Smith, the man who had signed the Grateful Dead, was pointed in Morrison's direction by Andy Wickham, an A&R man working for the label, everyone knew that Morrison would be a perfect fit. But Morrison was still under contract to Bang records and Web IV, and those contracts said, among other things, that any other label that negotiated with Morrison would be held liable for breach of contract. Warners didn't want to show their interest in Morrison, because a major label wanting to sign him would cause Bang to raise the price of buying him out of his contract. Instead they got an independent production company to sign him, with a nod-and-wink understanding that they would then license the records to Warners. The company they chose was Inherit Productions, the production arm of Schwaid-Merenstein, a management company set up by Bob Schwaid, who had previously worked in Warners' publishing department, and record producer Lewis Merenstein. Merenstein came to another demo session at Ace Recordings, where he fell in love with the new music that Morrison was playing, and determined he would do everything in his power to make the record into the masterpiece it deserved to be. He and Morrison were, at least at this point, on exactly the same page, and bonded over their mutual love of King Pleasure. Morrison signed to Schwaid-Merenstein, just as he had with Bert Berns and before him Phil Solomon, for management, record production, and publishing. Schwaid-Merenstein were funded by Warners, and would license any recordings they made to Warners, once the contractual situation had been sorted out. The first thing to do was to negotiate the release from Web IV, the publishing company owned by Ilene Berns. Schwaid negotiated that, and Morrison got released on four conditions -- he had to make a substantial payment to Web IV, if he released a single within a year he had to give Web IV the publishing, any album he released in the next year had to contain at least two songs published by Web IV, and he had to give Web IV at least thirty-six new songs to publish within the next year. The first two conditions were no problem at all -- Warners had the money to buy the contract out, and Merenstein's plans for the first album didn't involve a single anyway. It wouldn't be too much of a hardship to include a couple of Web IV-published tracks on the album -- Morrison had written two songs, "Beside You" and "Madame George", that had already been published and that he was regularly including in his live sets. As for the thirty-six new songs... well, that all depended on what you called a song, didn't it? [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Ring Worm"] Morrison went into a recording studio and recorded thirty-one ostensible songs, most of them lasting one minute to within a few seconds either way, in which he strummed one or two chords and spoke-sang whatever words came into his head -- for example one song, "Here Comes Dumb George", just consists of the words "Here Comes Dumb George" repeated over and over. Some of the 'songs', like "Twist and Shake" and "Hang on Groovy", are parodying Bert Berns' songwriting style; others, like "Waiting for My Royalty Check", "Blowin' Your Nose", and "Nose in Your Blow", are attacks on Bang's business practices. Several of the songs, like "Hold on George", "Here Comes Dumb George", "Dum Dum George", and "Goodbye George" are about a man called George who seems to have come to Boston to try and fail to make a record with Morrison. And “Want a Danish” is about wanting a Danish pastry. But in truth, this description is still making these "songs" sound more coherent than they are. The whole recording is of no musical merit whatsoever, and has absolutely nothing in it which could be considered to have any commercial potential at all. Which is of course the point -- just to show utter contempt to Ilene Berns and her company. The other problem that needed to be solved was Bang Records itself, which was now largely under the control of the mob. That was solved by Joe Smith. As Smith told the story "A friend of mine who knew some people said I could buy the contract for $20,000. I had to meet somebody in a warehouse on the third floor on Ninth Avenue in New York. I walked up there with twenty thousand-dollar bills -- and I was terrified. I was terrified I was going to give them the money, get a belt on the head and still not wind up with the contract. And there were two guys in the room. They looked out of central casting -- a big wide guy and  a tall, thin guy. They were wearing suits and hats and stuff. I said 'I'm here with the money. You got the contract?' I remember I took that contract and ran out the door and jumped from the third floor to the second floor, and almost broke my leg to get on the street, where I could get a cab and put the contract in a safe place back at Warner Brothers." But the problem was solved, and Lewis Merenstein could get to work translating the music he'd heard Morrison playing into a record. He decided that Kielbania and Payne were not suitable for the kind of recording he wanted -- though they were welcome to attend the sessions in case the musicians had any questions about the songs, and thus they would get session pay. Kielbania was, at first, upset by this, but he soon changed his mind when he realised who Merenstein was bringing in to replace him on bass for the session. Richard Davis, the bass player -- who sadly died two months ago as I write this -- would later go on to play on many classic rock records by people like Bruce Springsteen and Laura Nyro, largely as a result of his work for Morrison, but at the time he was known as one of the great jazz bass players, most notably having played on Eric Dolphy's Out to Lunch: [Excerpt: Eric Dolphy, "Hat and Beard"] Kielbania could see the wisdom of getting in one of the truly great players for the album, and he was happy to show Davis the parts he'd been playing on the songs live, which Davis could then embellish -- Davis later always denied this, but it's obvious when listening to the live recordings that Kielbania played on before these sessions that Davis is playing very similar lines. Warren Smith Jr, the vibraphone player, had played with great jazz musicians like Charles Mingus and Herbie Mann, as well as backing Lloyd Price, Aretha Franklin, and Janis Joplin. Connie Kay, the drummer, was the drummer for the Modern Jazz Quartet and had also played sessions with everyone from Ruth Brown to Miles Davis. And Jay Berliner, the guitarist, had played on records like Charles Mingus' classic The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady: [Excerpt: Charles Mingus: "Mode D - Trio and Group Dancers, Mode F - Single Solos & Group Dance"] There was also a flute player whose name nobody now remembers. Although all of these musicians were jobbing session musicians -- Berliner came to the first session for the album that became Astral Weeks straight from a session recording a jingle for Pringles potato chips -- they were all very capable of taking a simple song and using it as an opportunity for jazz improvisation. And that was what Merenstein asked them to do. The songs that Morrison was writing were lyrically oblique, but structurally they were very simple -- surprisingly so when one is used to listening to the finished album. Most of the songs were, harmonically, variants of the standard blues and R&B changes that Morrison was used to playing. "Cyprus Avenue" and "The Way Young Lovers Do", for example, are both basically twelve-bar blueses -- neither is *exactly* a standard twelve-bar blues, but both are close enough that they can be considered to fit the form. Other than what Kielbania and Payne showed the musicians, they received no guidance from Morrison, who came in, ran through the songs once for them, and then headed to the vocal booth. None of the musicians had much memory of Morrison at all -- Jay Berliner said “This little guy walks in, past everybody, disappears into the vocal booth, and almost never comes out, even on the playbacks, he stayed in there." While Richard Davis later said “Well, I was with three of my favorite fellas to play with, so that's what made it beautiful. We were not concerned with Van at all, he never spoke to us.” The sound of the basic tracks on Astral Weeks is not the sound of a single auteur, as one might expect given its reputation, it's the sound of extremely good jazz musicians improvising based on the instructions given by Lewis Merenstein, who was trying to capture the feeling he'd got from listening to Morrison's live performances and demos. And because these were extremely good musicians, the album was recorded extremely quickly. In the first session, they cut four songs. Two of those were songs that Morrison was contractually obliged to record because of his agreement with Web IV -- "Beside You" and "Madame George", two songs that Bert Berns had produced, now in radically different versions: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Madame George"] The third song, "Cyprus Avenue", is the song that has caused most controversy over the years, as it's another of the songs that Morrison wrote around this time that relate to a sexual or romantic interest in underage girls. In this case, the reasoning might have been as simple as that the song is a blues, and Morrison may have been thinking about a tradition of lyrics like this in blues songs like "Good Morning, Little Schoolgirl". Whatever the cause though, the lyrics have, to put it mildly, not aged well at all: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Cyprus Avenue"] That song would be his standard set-closer for live performances for much of the seventies. For the fourth and final song, though, they chose to record what would become the title track for the album, "Astral Weeks", a song that was a lot more elliptical, and which seems in part to be about Morrison's longing for Janet Planet from afar, but also about memories of childhood, and also one of the first songs to bring in Morrison's fascination with the occult and spirituality,  something that would be a recurring theme throughout his work, as the song was partly inspired by paintings by a friend of Morrison's which suggested to him the concept of astral travel: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Astral Weeks"] Morrison had a fascination with the idea of astral travel, as he had apparently had several out-of-body experiences as a child, and wanted to find some kind of explanation for them. Most of the songs on the album came, by Morrison's own account, as a kind of automatic writing, coming through him rather than being consciously written, and there's a fascination throughout with, to use the phrase from "Madame George", "childhood visions". The song is also one of the first songs in Morrison's repertoire to deliberately namecheck one of his idols, something else he would do often in future, when he talks about "talking to Huddie Leadbelly". "Astral Weeks" was a song that Morrison had been performing live for some time, and Payne had always enjoyed doing it. Unlike Kielbania he had no compunction about insisting that he was good enough to play on the record, and he eventually persuaded the session flute player to let him borrow his instrument, and Payne was allowed to play on the track: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Astral Weeks"] Or at least that's how the story is usually told -- Payne is usually credited for playing on "Madame George" too, even though everyone agrees that "Astral Weeks" was the last song of the night, but people's memories can fade over time. Either way, Payne's interplay with Jay Berliner on the guitar became such a strong point of the track that there was no question of bringing the unknown session player back -- Payne was going to be the woodwind player for the rest of the album: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Astral Weeks"] There was then a six-day break between sessions, during which time Payne and Kielbania went to get initiated into Scientology -- a religion with which Morrison himself would experiment a little over a decade later -- though they soon decided that it wasn't worth the cost of the courses they'd have to take, and gave up on the idea the same week. The next session didn't go so well. Jay Berliner was unavailable, and so Barry Kornfeld, a folkie who played with people like Dave Van Ronk, was brought in to replace him. Kornfeld was perfectly decent in the role, but they'd also brought in a string section, with the idea of recording some of the songs which needed string parts live. But the string players they brought in were incapable of improvising, coming from a classical rather than jazz tradition, and the only track that got used on the finished album was "The Way Young Lovers Do", by far the most conventional song on the album, a three-minute soul ballad structured as a waltz twelve-bar blues, where the strings are essentially playing the same parts that a horn section would play on a record by someone like Solomon Burke: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "The Way Young Lovers Do"] It was decided that any string or horn parts on the rest of the album would just be done as overdubs. It was two weeks before the next and final session for the album, and that featured the return of Jay Berliner on guitar. The session started with "Sweet Thing" and "Ballerina", two songs that Morrison had been playing live for some time, and which were cut in relatively quick order.  They then made attempts at two more songs that didn't get very far, "Royalty", and "Going Around With Jesse James", before Morrison, stuck for something to record, pulled out a new lyric he'd never performed live, "Slim Slow Slider". The whole band ran through the song once, but then Merenstein decided to pare the arrangement down to just Morrison, Payne (on soprano sax rather than on flute), and Warren Smith Jr: [Excerpt: Van Morrison, "Slim Slow Slider"] That track was the only one where, after the recording, Merenstein didn't compliment the performance, remaining silent instead – Payne said “Maybe everyone was just tired, or maybe they were moved by it.” It seems likely it was the latter. The track eventually got chosen as the final track of the album, because Merenstein felt that it didn't fit conceptually with anything else -- and it's definitely a more negative track than the oth

Episode 169 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Piece of My Heart" and the short, tragic life of Janis Joplin. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a half-hour bonus episode available, on "Spinning Wheel" by Blood, Sweat & Tears. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Resources There are two Mixcloud mixes this time. As there are so many songs by Big Brother and the Holding Company and Janis Joplin excerpted, and Mixcloud won't allow more than four songs by the same artist in any mix, I've had to post the songs not in quite the same order in which they appear in the podcast. But the mixes are here — one, two . For information on Janis Joplin I used three biographies -- Scars of Sweet Paradise by Alice Echols, Janis: Her Life and Music by Holly George-Warren, and Buried Alive by Myra Friedman. I also referred to the chapter '“Being Good Isn't Always Easy": Aretha Franklin, Janis Joplin, Dusty Springfield, and the Color of Soul' in Just Around Midnight: Rock and Roll and the Racial Imagination by Jack Hamilton. Some information on Bessie Smith came from Bessie Smith by Jackie Kay, a book I can't really recommend given the lack of fact-checking, and Bessie by Chris Albertson. I also referred to Blues Legacies and Black Feminism: Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday by Angela Y. Davis And the best place to start with Joplin's music is this five-CD box, which contains both Big Brother and the Holding Company albums she was involved in, plus her two studio albums and bonus tracks. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before I start, this episode contains discussion of drug addiction and overdose, alcoholism, mental illness, domestic abuse, child abandonment, and racism. If those subjects are likely to cause you upset, you may want to check the transcript or skip this one rather than listen. Also, a subject I should probably say a little more about in this intro because I know I have inadvertently caused upset to at least one listener with this in the past. When it comes to Janis Joplin, it is *impossible* to talk about her without discussing her issues with her weight and self-image. The way I write often involves me paraphrasing the opinions of the people I'm writing about, in a mode known as close third person, and sometimes that means it can look like I am stating those opinions as my own, and sometimes things I say in that mode which *I* think are obviously meant in context to be critiques of those attitudes can appear to others to be replicating them. At least once, I have seriously upset a fat listener when talking about issues related to weight in this manner. I'm going to try to be more careful here, but just in case, I'm going to say before I begin that I think fatphobia is a pernicious form of bigotry, as bad as any other form of bigotry. I'm fat myself and well aware of how systemic discrimination affects fat people. I also think more generally that the pressure put on women to look a particular way is pernicious and disgusting in ways I can't even begin to verbalise, and causes untold harm. If *ANYTHING* I say in this episode comes across as sounding otherwise, that's because I haven't expressed myself clearly enough. Like all people, Janis Joplin had negative characteristics, and at times I'm going to say things that are critical of those. But when it comes to anything to do with her weight or her appearance, if *anything* I say sounds critical of her, rather than of a society that makes women feel awful for their appearance, it isn't meant to. Anyway, on with the show. On January the nineteenth, 1943, Seth Joplin typed up a letter to his wife Dorothy, which read “I wish to tender my congratulations on the anniversary of your successful completion of your production quota for the nine months ending January 19, 1943. I realize that you passed through a period of inflation such as you had never before known—yet, in spite of this, you met your goal by your supreme effort during the early hours of January 19, a good three weeks ahead of schedule.” As you can probably tell from that message, the Joplin family were a strange mixture of ultraconformism and eccentricity, and those two opposing forces would dominate the personality of their firstborn daughter for the whole of her life.  Seth Joplin was a respected engineer at Texaco, where he worked for forty years, but he had actually dropped out of engineering school before completing his degree. His favourite pastime when he wasn't at work was to read -- he was a voracious reader -- and to listen to classical music, which would often move him to tears, but he had also taught himself to make bathtub gin during prohibition, and smoked cannabis. Dorothy, meanwhile, had had the possibility of a singing career before deciding to settle down and become a housewife, and was known for having a particularly beautiful soprano voice. Both were, by all accounts, fiercely intelligent people, but they were also as committed as anyone to the ideals of the middle-class family even as they chafed against its restrictions. Like her mother, young Janis had a beautiful soprano voice, and she became a soloist in her church choir, but after the age of six, she was not encouraged to sing much. Dorothy had had a thyroid operation which destroyed her singing voice, and the family got rid of their piano soon after (different sources say that this was either because Dorothy found her daughter's singing painful now that she couldn't sing herself, or because Seth was upset that his wife could no longer sing. Either seems plausible.) Janis was pushed to be a high-achiever -- she was given a library card as soon as she could write her name, and encouraged to use it, and she was soon advanced in school, skipping a couple of grades. She was also by all accounts a fiercely talented painter, and her parents paid for art lessons. From everything one reads about her pre-teen years, she was a child prodigy who was loved by everyone and who was clearly going to be a success of some kind. Things started to change when she reached her teenage years. Partly, this was just her getting into rock and roll music, which her father thought a fad -- though even there, she differed from her peers. She loved Elvis, but when she heard "Hound Dog", she loved it so much that she tracked down a copy of Big Mama Thornton's original, and told her friends she preferred that: [Excerpt: Big Mama Thornton, "Hound Dog"] Despite this, she was still also an exemplary student and overachiever. But by the time she turned fourteen, things started to go very wrong for her. Partly this was just down to her relationship with her father changing -- she adored him, but he became more distant from his daughters as they grew into women. But also, puberty had an almost wholly negative effect on her, at least by the standards of that time and place. She put on weight (which, again, I do not think is a negative thing, but she did, and so did everyone around her), she got a bad case of acne which didn't ever really go away, and she also didn't develop breasts particularly quickly -- which, given that she was a couple of years younger than the other people in the same classes at school, meant she stood out even more. In the mid-sixties, a doctor apparently diagnosed her as having a "hormone imbalance" -- something that got to her as a possible explanation for why she was, to quote from a letter she wrote then, "not really a woman or enough of one or something." She wondered if "maybe something as simple as a pill could have helped out or even changed that part of me I call ME and has been so messed up.” I'm not a doctor and even if I were, diagnosing historical figures is an unethical thing to do, but certainly the acne, weight gain, and mental health problems she had are all consistent with PCOS, the most common endocrine disorder among women, and it seems likely given what the doctor told her that this was the cause. But at the time all she knew was that she was different, and that in the eyes of her fellow students she had gone from being pretty to being ugly. She seems to have been a very trusting, naive, person who was often the brunt of jokes but who desperately needed to be accepted, and it became clear that her appearance wasn't going to let her fit into the conformist society she was being brought up in, while her high intelligence, low impulse control, and curiosity meant she couldn't even fade into the background. This left her one other option, and she decided that she would deliberately try to look and act as different from everyone else as possible. That way, it would be a conscious choice on her part to reject the standards of her fellow pupils, rather than her being rejected by them. She started to admire rebels. She became a big fan of Jerry Lee Lewis, whose music combined the country music she'd grown up hearing in Texas, the R&B she liked now, and the rebellious nature she was trying to cultivate: [Excerpt: Jerry Lee Lewis, "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On"] When Lewis' career was derailed by his marriage to his teenage cousin, Joplin wrote an angry letter to Time magazine complaining that they had mistreated him in their coverage. But as with so many people of her generation, her love of rock and roll music led her first to the blues and then to folk, and she soon found herself listening to Odetta: [Excerpt: Odetta, "Muleskinner Blues"] One of her first experiences of realising she could gain acceptance from her peers by singing was when she was hanging out with the small group of Bohemian teenagers she was friendly with, and sang an Odetta song, mimicking her voice exactly. But young Janis Joplin was listening to an eclectic range of folk music, and could mimic more than just Odetta. For all that her later vocal style was hugely influenced by Odetta and by other Black singers like Big Mama Thornton and Etta James, her friends in her late teens and early twenties remember her as a vocal chameleon with an achingly pure soprano, who would more often than Odetta be imitating the great Appalachian traditional folk singer Jean Ritchie: [Excerpt: Jean Ritchie, "Lord Randall"] She was, in short, trying her best to become a Beatnik, despite not having any experience of that subculture other than what she read in books -- though she *did* read about them in books, devouring things like Kerouac's On The Road. She came into conflict with her mother, who didn't understand what was happening to her daughter, and who tried to get family counselling to understand what was going on. Her father, who seemed to relate more to Janis, but who was more quietly eccentric, put an end to that, but Janis would still for the rest of her life talk about how her mother had taken her to doctors who thought she was going to end up "either in jail or an insane asylum" to use her words. From this point on, and for the rest of her life, she was torn between a need for approval from her family and her peers, and a knowledge that no matter what she did she couldn't fit in with normal societal expectations. In high school she was a member of the Future Nurses of America, the Future Teachers of America, the Art Club, and Slide Rule Club, but she also had a reputation as a wild girl, and as sexually active (even though by all accounts at this point she was far less so than most of the so-called "good girls" – but her later activity was in part because she felt that if she was going to have that reputation anyway she might as well earn it). She also was known to express radical opinions, like that segregation was wrong, an opinion that the other students in her segregated Texan school didn't even think was wrong, but possibly some sort of sign of mental illness. Her final High School yearbook didn't contain a single other student's signature. And her initial choice of university, Lamar State College of Technology, was not much better. In the next town over, and attended by many of the same students, it had much the same attitudes as the school she'd left. Almost the only long-term effect her initial attendance at university had on her was a negative one -- she found there was another student at the college who was better at painting. Deciding that if she wasn't going to be the best at something she didn't want to do it at all, she more or less gave up on painting at that point. But there was one positive. One of the lecturers at Lamar was Francis Edward "Ab" Abernethy, who would in the early seventies go on to become the Secretary and Editor of the Texas Folklore Society, and was also a passionate folk musician, playing double bass in string bands. Abernethy had a great collection of blues 78s. and it was through this collection that Janis first discovered classic blues, and in particular Bessie Smith: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Black Mountain Blues"] A couple of episodes ago, we had a long look at the history of the music that now gets called "the blues" -- the music that's based around guitars, and generally involves a solo male vocalist, usually Black during its classic period. At the time that music was being made though it wouldn't have been thought of as "the blues" with no modifiers by most people who were aware of it. At the start, even the songs they were playing weren't thought of as blues by the male vocalist/guitarists who played them -- they called the songs they played "reels". The music released by people like Blind Lemon Jefferson, Son House, Robert Johnson, Kokomo Arnold and so on was thought of as blues music, and people would understand and agree with a phrase like "Lonnie Johnson is a blues singer", but it wasn't the first thing people thought of when they talked about "the blues". Until relatively late -- probably some time in the 1960s -- if you wanted to talk about blues music made by Black men with guitars and only that music, you talked about "country blues". If you thought about "the blues", with no qualifiers, you thought about a rather different style of music, one that white record collectors started later to refer to as "classic blues" to differentiate it from what they were now calling "the blues". Nowadays of course if you say "classic blues", most people will think you mean Muddy Waters or John Lee Hooker, people who were contemporary at the time those white record collectors were coming up with their labels, and so that style of music gets referred to as "vaudeville blues", or as "classic female blues": [Excerpt: Mamie Smith, "Crazy Blues"] What we just heard was the first big blues hit performed by a Black person, from 1920, and as we discussed in the episode on "Crossroads" that revolutionised the whole record industry when it came out. The song was performed by Mamie Smith, a vaudeville performer, and was originally titled "Harlem Blues" by its writer, Perry Bradford, before he changed the title to "Crazy Blues" to get it to a wider audience. Bradford was an important figure in the vaudeville scene, though other than being the credited writer of "Keep A-Knockin'" he's little known these days. He was a Black musician and grew up playing in minstrel shows (the history of minstrelsy is a topic for another day, but it's more complicated than the simple image of blackface that we are aware of today -- though as with many "more complicated than that" things it is, also the simple image of blackface we're aware of). He was the person who persuaded OKeh records that there would be a market for music made by Black people that sounded Black (though as we're going to see in this episode, what "sounding Black" means is a rather loaded question). "Crazy Blues" was the result, and it was a massive hit, even though it was marketed specifically towards Black listeners: [Excerpt: Mamie Smith, "Crazy Blues"] The big stars of the early years of recorded blues were all making records in the shadow of "Crazy Blues", and in the case of its very biggest stars, they were working very much in the same mould. The two most important blues stars of the twenties both got their start in vaudeville, and were both women. Ma Rainey, like Mamie Smith, first performed in minstrel shows, but where Mamie Smith's early records had her largely backed by white musicians, Rainey was largely backed by Black musicians, including on several tracks Louis Armstrong: [Excerpt: Ma Rainey, "See See Rider"] Rainey's band was initially led by Thomas Dorsey, one of the most important men in American music, who we've talked about before in several episodes, including the last one. He was possibly the single most important figure in two different genres -- hokum music, when he, under the name "Georgia Tom" recorded "It's Tight Like That" with Tampa Red: [Excerpt: Tampa Red and Georgia Tom, "It's Tight Like That"] And of course gospel music, which to all intents and purposes he invented, and much of whose repertoire he wrote: [Excerpt: Mahalia Jackson, "Take My Hand, Precious Lord"] When Dorsey left Rainey's band, as we discussed right back in episode five, he was replaced by a female pianist, Lil Henderson. The blues was a woman's genre. And Ma Rainey was, by preference, a woman's woman, though she was married to a man: [Excerpt: Ma Rainey, "Prove it on Me"] So was the biggest star of the classic blues era, who was originally mentored by Rainey. Bessie Smith, like Rainey, was a queer woman who had relationships with men but was far more interested in other women.  There were stories that Bessie Smith actually got her start in the business by being kidnapped by Ma Rainey, and forced into performing on the same bills as her in the vaudeville show she was touring in, and that Rainey taught Smith to sing blues in the process. In truth, Rainey mentored Smith more in stagecraft and the ways of the road than in singing, and neither woman was only a blues singer, though both had huge success with their blues records.  Indeed, since Rainey was already in the show, Smith was initially hired as a dancer rather than a singer, and she also worked as a male impersonator. But Smith soon branched out on her own -- from the beginning she was obviously a star. The great jazz clarinettist Sidney Bechet later said of her "She had this trouble in her, this thing that would not let her rest sometimes, a meanness that came and took her over. But what she had was alive … Bessie, she just wouldn't let herself be; it seemed she couldn't let herself be." Bessie Smith was signed by Columbia Records in 1923, as part of the rush to find and record as many Black women blues singers as possible. Her first recording session produced "Downhearted Blues", which became, depending on which sources you read, either the biggest-selling blues record since "Crazy Blues" or the biggest-selling blues record ever, full stop, selling three quarters of a million copies in the six months after its release: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Downhearted Blues"] Smith didn't make royalties off record sales, only making a flat fee, but she became the most popular Black performer of the 1920s. Columbia signed her to an exclusive contract, and she became so rich that she would literally travel between gigs on her own private train. She lived an extravagant life in every way, giving lavishly to her friends and family, but also drinking extraordinary amounts of liquor, having regular affairs, and also often physically or verbally attacking those around her. By all accounts she was not a comfortable person to be around, and she seemed to be trying to fit an entire lifetime into every moment. From 1923 through 1929 she had a string of massive hits. She recorded material in a variety of styles, including the dirty blues: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Empty Bed Blues] And with accompanists like Louis Armstrong: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith with Louis Armstrong, "Cold in Hand Blues"] But the music for which she became best known, and which sold the best, was when she sang about being mistreated by men, as on one of her biggest hits, "'Tain't Nobody's Biz-Ness if I Do" -- and a warning here, I'm going to play a clip of the song, which treats domestic violence in a way that may be upsetting: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "'Tain't Nobody's Biz-Ness if I Do"] That kind of material can often seem horrifying to today's listeners -- and quite correctly so, as domestic violence is a horrifying thing -- and it sounds entirely too excusing of the man beating her up for anyone to find it comfortable listening. But the Black feminist scholar Angela Davis has made a convincing case that while these records, and others by Smith's contemporaries, can't reasonably be considered to be feminist, they *are* at the very least more progressive than they now seem, in that they were, even if excusing it, pointing to a real problem which was otherwise left unspoken. And that kind of domestic violence and abuse *was* a real problem, including in Smith's own life. By all accounts she was terrified of her husband, Jack Gee, who would frequently attack her because of her affairs with other people, mostly women. But she was still devastated when he left her for a younger woman, not only because he had left her, but also because he kidnapped their adopted son and had him put into a care home, falsely claiming she had abused him. Not only that, but before Jack left her closest friend had been Jack's niece Ruby and after the split she never saw Ruby again -- though after her death Ruby tried to have a blues career as "Ruby Smith", taking her aunt's surname and recording a few tracks with Sammy Price, the piano player who worked with Sister Rosetta Tharpe: [Excerpt: Ruby Smith with Sammy Price, "Make Me Love You"] The same month, May 1929, that Gee left her, Smith recorded what was to become her last big hit, and most well-known song, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out": [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out"] And that could have been the theme for the rest of her life. A few months after that record came out, the Depression hit, pretty much killing the market for blues records. She carried on recording until 1931, but the records weren't selling any more. And at the same time, the talkies came in in the film industry, which along with the Depression ended up devastating the vaudeville audience. Her earnings were still higher than most, but only a quarter of what they had been a year or two earlier. She had one last recording session in 1933, produced by John Hammond for OKeh Records, where she showed that her style had developed over the years -- it was now incorporating the newer swing style, and featured future swing stars Benny Goodman and Jack Teagarden in the backing band: [Excerpt: Bessie Smith, "Gimme a Pigfoot"] Hammond was not hugely impressed with the recordings, preferring her earlier records, and they would be the last she would ever make. She continued as a successful, though no longer record-breaking, live act until 1937, when she and her common-law husband, Lionel Hampton's uncle Richard Morgan, were in a car crash. Morgan escaped, but Smith died of her injuries and was buried on October the fourth 1937. Ten thousand people came to her funeral, but she was buried in an unmarked grave -- she was still legally married to Gee, even though they'd been separated for eight years, and while he supposedly later became rich from songwriting royalties from some of her songs (most of her songs were written by other people, but she wrote a few herself) he refused to pay for a headstone for her. Indeed on more than one occasion he embezzled money that had been raised by other people to provide a headstone. Bessie Smith soon became Joplin's favourite singer of all time, and she started trying to copy her vocals. But other than discovering Smith's music, Joplin seems to have had as terrible a time at university as at school, and soon dropped out and moved back in with her parents. She went to business school for a short while, where she learned some secretarial skills, and then she moved west, going to LA where two of her aunts lived, to see if she could thrive better in a big West Coast city than she did in small-town Texas. Soon she moved from LA to Venice Beach, and from there had a brief sojourn in San Francisco, where she tried to live out her beatnik fantasies at a time when the beatnik culture was starting to fall apart. She did, while she was there, start smoking cannabis, though she never got a taste for that drug, and took Benzedrine and started drinking much more heavily than she had before. She soon lost her job, moved back to Texas, and re-enrolled at the same college she'd been at before. But now she'd had a taste of real Bohemian life -- she'd been singing at coffee houses, and having affairs with both men and women -- and soon she decided to transfer to the University of Texas at Austin. At this point, Austin was very far from the cultural centre it has become in recent decades, and it was still a straitlaced Texan town, but it was far less so than Port Arthur, and she soon found herself in a folk group, the Waller Creek Boys. Janis would play autoharp and sing, sometimes Bessie Smith covers, but also the more commercial country and folk music that was popular at the time, like "Silver Threads and Golden Needles", a song that had originally been recorded by Wanda Jackson but at that time was a big hit for Dusty Springfield's group The Springfields: [Excerpt: The Waller Creek Boys, "Silver Threads and Golden Needles"] But even there, Joplin didn't fit in comfortably. The venue where the folk jams were taking place was a segregated venue, as everywhere around Austin was. And she was enough of a misfit that the campus newspaper did an article on her headlined "She Dares to Be Different!", which read in part "She goes barefooted when she feels like it, wears Levi's to class because they're more comfortable, and carries her Autoharp with her everywhere she goes so that in case she gets the urge to break out into song it will be handy." There was a small group of wannabe-Beatniks, including Chet Helms, who we've mentioned previously in the Grateful Dead episode, Gilbert Shelton, who went on to be a pioneer of alternative comics and create the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers, and Shelton's partner in Rip-Off Press, Dave Moriarty, but for the most part the atmosphere in Austin was only slightly better for Janis than it had been in Port Arthur. The final straw for her came when in an annual charity fundraiser joke competition to find the ugliest man on campus, someone nominated her for the "award". She'd had enough of Texas. She wanted to go back to California. She and Chet Helms, who had dropped out of the university earlier and who, like her, had already spent some time on the West Coast, decided to hitch-hike together to San Francisco. Before leaving, she made a recording for her ex-girlfriend Julie Paul, a country and western musician, of a song she'd written herself. It's recorded in what many say was Janis' natural voice -- a voice she deliberately altered in performance in later years because, she would tell people, she didn't think there was room for her singing like that in an industry that already had Joan Baez and Judy Collins. In her early years she would alternate between singing like this and doing her imitations of Black women, but the character of Janis Joplin who would become famous never sang like this. It may well be the most honest thing that she ever recorded, and the most revealing of who she really was: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin, "So Sad to Be Alone"] Joplin and Helms made it to San Francisco, and she started performing at open-mic nights and folk clubs around the Bay Area, singing in her Bessie Smith and Odetta imitation voice, and sometimes making a great deal of money by sounding different from the wispier-voiced women who were the norm at those venues. The two friends parted ways, and she started performing with two other folk musicians, Larry Hanks and Roger Perkins, and she insisted that they would play at least one Bessie Smith song at every performance: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin, Larry Hanks, and Roger Perkins, "Black Mountain Blues (live in San Francisco)"] Often the trio would be joined by Billy Roberts, who at that time had just started performing the song that would make his name, "Hey Joe", and Joplin was soon part of the folk scene in the Bay Area, and admired by Dino Valenti, David Crosby, and Jerry Garcia among others. She also sang a lot with Jorma Kaukonnen, and recordings of the two of them together have circulated for years: [Excerpt: Janis Joplin and Jorma Kaukonnen, "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out"] Through 1963, 1964, and early 1965 Joplin ping-ponged from coast to coast, spending time in the Bay Area, then Greenwich Village, dropping in on her parents then back to the Bay Area, and she started taking vast quantities of methamphetamine. Even before moving to San Francisco she had been an occasional user of amphetamines – at the time they were regularly prescribed to students as study aids during exam periods, and she had also been taking them to try to lose some of the weight she always hated. But while she was living in San Francisco she became dependent on the drug. At one point her father was worried enough about her health to visit her in San Francisco, where she managed to fool him that she was more or less OK. But she looked to him for reassurance that things would get better for her, and he couldn't give it to her. He told her about a concept that he called the "Saturday night swindle", the idea that you work all week so you can go out and have fun on Saturday in the hope that that will make up for everything else, but that it never does. She had occasional misses with what would have been lucky breaks -- at one point she was in a motorcycle accident just as record labels were interested in signing her, and by the time she got out of the hospital the chance had gone. She became engaged to another speed freak, one who claimed to be an engineer and from a well-off background, but she was becoming severely ill from what was by now a dangerous amphetamine habit, and in May 1965 she decided to move back in with her parents, get clean, and have a normal life. Her new fiance was going to do the same, and they were going to have the conformist life her parents had always wanted, and which she had always wanted to want. Surely with a husband who loved her she could find a way to fit in and just be normal. She kicked the addiction, and wrote her fiance long letters describing everything about her family and the new normal life they were going to have together, and they show her painfully trying to be optimistic about the future, like one where she described her family to him: "My mother—Dorothy—worries so and loves her children dearly. Republican and Methodist, very sincere, speaks in clichés which she really means and is very good to people. (She thinks you have a lovely voice and is terribly prepared to like you.) My father—richer than when I knew him and kind of embarrassed about it—very well read—history his passion—quiet and very excited to have me home because I'm bright and we can talk (about antimatter yet—that impressed him)! I keep telling him how smart you are and how proud I am of you.…" She went back to Lamar, her mother started sewing her a wedding dress, and for much of the year she believed her fiance was going to be her knight in shining armour. But as it happened, the fiance in question was described by everyone else who knew him as a compulsive liar and con man, who persuaded her father to give him money for supposed medical tests before the wedding, but in reality was apparently married to someone else and having a baby with a third woman. After the engagement was broken off, she started performing again around the coffeehouses in Austin and Houston, and she started to realise the possibilities of rock music for her kind of performance. The missing clue came from a group from Austin who she became very friendly with, the Thirteenth Floor Elevators, and the way their lead singer Roky Erickson would wail and yell: [Excerpt: The 13th Floor Elevators, "You're Gonna Miss Me (live)"] If, as now seemed inevitable, Janis was going to make a living as a performer, maybe she should start singing rock music, because it seemed like there was money in it. There was even some talk of her singing with the Elevators. But then an old friend came to Austin from San Francisco with word from Chet Helms. A blues band had formed, and were looking for a singer, and they remembered her from the coffee houses. Would she like to go back to San Francisco and sing with them? In the time she'd been away, Helms had become hugely prominent in the San Francisco music scene, which had changed radically. A band from the area called the Charlatans had been playing a fake-Victorian saloon called the Red Dog in nearby Nevada, and had become massive with the people who a few years earlier had been beatniks: [Excerpt: The Charlatans, "32-20"] When their residency at the Red Dog had finished, several of the crowd who had been regulars there had become a collective of sorts called the Family Dog, and Helms had become their unofficial leader. And there's actually a lot packed into that choice of name. As we'll see in a few future episodes, a lot of West Coast hippies eventually started calling their collectives and communes families. This started as a way to get round bureaucracy -- if a helpful welfare officer put down that the unrelated people living in a house together were a family, suddenly they could get food stamps. As with many things, of course, the label then affected how people thought about themselves, and one thing that's very notable about the San Francisco scene hippies in particular is that they are some of the first people to make a big deal about what we now  call "found family" or "family of choice". But it's also notable how often the hippie found families took their model from the only families these largely middle-class dropouts had ever known, and structured themselves around men going out and doing the work -- selling dope or panhandling or being rock musicians or shoplifting -- with the women staying at home doing the housework. The Family Dog started promoting shows, with the intention of turning San Francisco into "the American Liverpool", and soon Helms was rivalled only by Bill Graham as the major promoter of rock shows in the Bay Area. And now he wanted Janis to come back and join this new band. But Janis was worried. She was clean now. She drank far too much, but she wasn't doing any other drugs. She couldn't go back to San Francisco and risk getting back on methamphetamine. She needn't worry about that, she was told, nobody in San Francisco did speed any more, they were all on LSD -- a drug she hated and so wasn't in any danger from. Reassured, she made the trip back to San Francisco, to join Big Brother and the Holding Company. Big Brother and the Holding Company were the epitome of San Francisco acid rock at the time. They were the house band at the Avalon Ballroom, which Helms ran, and their first ever gig had been at the Trips Festival, which we talked about briefly in the Grateful Dead episode. They were known for being more imaginative than competent -- lead guitarist James Gurley was often described as playing parts that were influenced by John Cage, but was equally often, and equally accurately, described as not actually being able to keep his guitar in tune because he was too stoned. But they were drawing massive crowds with their instrumental freak-out rock music. Helms thought they needed a singer, and he had remembered Joplin, who a few of the group had seen playing the coffee houses. He decided she would be perfect for them, though Joplin wasn't so sure. She thought it was worth a shot, but as she wrote to her parents before meeting the group "Supposed to rehearse w/ the band this afternoon, after that I guess I'll know whether I want to stay & do that for awhile. Right now my position is ambivalent—I'm glad I came, nice to see the city, a few friends, but I'm not at all sold on the idea of becoming the poor man's Cher.” In that letter she also wrote "I'm awfully sorry to be such a disappointment to you. I understand your fears at my coming here & must admit I share them, but I really do think there's an awfully good chance I won't blow it this time." The band she met up with consisted of lead guitarist James Gurley, bass player Peter Albin, rhythm player Sam Andrew, and drummer David Getz.  To start with, Peter Albin sang lead on most songs, with Joplin adding yelps and screams modelled on those of Roky Erickson, but in her first gig with the band she bowled everyone over with her lead vocal on the traditional spiritual "Down on Me", which would remain a staple of their live act, as in this live recording from 1968: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Down on Me (Live 1968)"] After that first gig in June 1966, it was obvious that Joplin was going to be a star, and was going to be the group's main lead vocalist. She had developed a whole new stage persona a million miles away from her folk performances. As Chet Helms said “Suddenly this person who would stand upright with her fists clenched was all over the stage. Roky Erickson had modeled himself after the screaming style of Little Richard, and Janis's initial stage presence came from Roky, and ultimately Little Richard. It was a very different Janis.” Joplin would always claim to journalists that her stage persona was just her being herself and natural, but she worked hard on every aspect of her performance, and far from the untrained emotional outpouring she always suggested, her vocal performances were carefully calculated pastiches of her influences -- mostly Bessie Smith, but also Big Mama Thornton, Odetta, Etta James, Tina Turner, and Otis Redding. That's not to say that those performances weren't an authentic expression of part of herself -- they absolutely were. But the ethos that dominated San Francisco in the mid-sixties prized self-expression over technical craft, and so Joplin had to portray herself as a freak of nature who just had to let all her emotions out, a wild woman, rather than someone who carefully worked out every nuance of her performances. Joplin actually got the chance to meet one of her idols when she discovered that Willie Mae Thornton was now living and regularly performing in the Bay Area. She and some of her bandmates saw Big Mama play a small jazz club, where she performed a song she wouldn't release on a record for another two years: [Excerpt: Big Mama Thornton, "Ball 'n' Chain"] Janis loved the song and scribbled down the lyrics, then went backstage to ask Big Mama if Big Brother could cover the song. She gave them her blessing, but told them "don't" -- and here she used a word I can't use with a clean rating -- "it up". The group all moved in together, communally, with their partners -- those who had them. Janis was currently single, having dumped her most recent boyfriend after discovering him shooting speed, as she was still determined to stay clean. But she was rapidly discovering that the claim that San Franciscans no longer used much speed had perhaps not been entirely true, as for example Sam Andrew's girlfriend went by the nickname Speedfreak Rita. For now, Janis was still largely clean, but she did start drinking more. Partly this was because of a brief fling with Pigpen from the Grateful Dead, who lived nearby. Janis liked Pigpen as someone else on the scene who didn't much like psychedelics or cannabis -- she didn't like drugs that made her think more, but only drugs that made her able to *stop* thinking (her love of amphetamines doesn't seem to fit this pattern, but a small percentage of people have a different reaction to amphetamine-type stimulants, perhaps she was one of those). Pigpen was a big drinker of Southern Comfort -- so much so that it would kill him within a few years -- and Janis started joining him. Her relationship with Pigpen didn't last long, but the two would remain close, and she would often join the Grateful Dead on stage over the years to duet with him on "Turn On Your Lovelight": [Excerpt: Janis Joplin and the Grateful Dead, "Turn on Your Lovelight"] But within two months of joining the band, Janis nearly left. Paul Rothchild of Elektra Records came to see the group live, and was impressed by their singer, but not by the rest of the band. This was something that would happen again and again over the group's career. The group were all imaginative and creative -- they worked together on their arrangements and their long instrumental jams and often brought in very good ideas -- but they were not the most disciplined or technically skilled of musicians, even when you factored in their heavy drug use, and often lacked the skill to pull off their better ideas. They were hugely popular among the crowds at the Avalon Ballroom, who were on the group's chemical wavelength, but Rothchild was not impressed -- as he was, in general, unimpressed with psychedelic freakouts. He was already of the belief in summer 1966 that the fashion for extended experimental freak-outs would soon come to an end and that there would be a pendulum swing back towards more structured and melodic music. As we saw in the episode on The Band, he would be proved right in a little over a year, but being ahead of the curve he wanted to put together a supergroup that would be able to ride that coming wave, a group that would play old-fashioned blues. He'd got together Stefan Grossman, Steve Mann, and Taj Mahal, and he wanted Joplin to be the female vocalist for the group, dueting with Mahal. She attended one rehearsal, and the new group sounded great. Elektra Records offered to sign them, pay their rent while they rehearsed, and have a major promotional campaign for their first release. Joplin was very, very, tempted, and brought the subject up to her bandmates in Big Brother. They were devastated. They were a family! You don't leave your family! She was meant to be with them forever! They eventually got her to agree to put off the decision at least until after a residency they'd been booked for in Chicago, and she decided to give them the chance, writing to her parents "I decided to stay w/the group but still like to think about the other thing. Trying to figure out which is musically more marketable because my being good isn't enough, I've got to be in a good vehicle.” The trip to Chicago was a disaster. They found that the people of Chicago weren't hugely interested in seeing a bunch of white Californians play the blues, and that the Midwest didn't have the same Bohemian crowds that the coastal cities they were used to had, and so their freak-outs didn't go down well either. After two weeks of their four-week residency, the club owner stopped paying them because they were so unpopular, and they had no money to get home. And then they were approached by Bob Shad. (For those who know the film Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, the Bob Shad in that film is named after this one -- Judd Apatow, the film's director, is Shad's grandson) This Shad was a record producer, who had worked with people like Big Bill Broonzy, Sarah Vaughan, Dinah Washington, and Billy Eckstine over an eighteen-year career, and had recently set up a new label, Mainstream Records. He wanted to sign Big Brother and the Holding Company. They needed money and... well, it was a record contract! It was a contract that took half their publishing, paid them a five percent royalty on sales, and gave them no advance, but it was still a contract, and they'd get union scale for the first session. In that first session in Chicago, they recorded four songs, and strangely only one, "Down on Me", had a solo Janis vocal. Of the other three songs, Sam Andrew and Janis dueted on Sam's song "Call on Me", Albin sang lead on the group composition "Blindman", and Gurley and Janis sang a cover of "All Is Loneliness", a song originally by the avant-garde street musician Moondog: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "All is Loneliness"] The group weren't happy with the four songs they recorded -- they had to keep the songs to the length of a single, and the engineers made sure that the needles never went into the red, so their guitars sounded far more polite and less distorted than they were used to. Janis was fascinated by the overdubbing process, though, especially double-tracking, which she'd never tried before but which she turned out to be remarkably good at. And they were now signed to a contract, which meant that Janis wouldn't be leaving the group to go solo any time soon. The family were going to stay together. But on the group's return to San Francisco, Janis started doing speed again, encouraged by the people around the group, particularly Gurley's wife. By the time the group's first single, "Blindman" backed with "All is Loneliness", came out, she was an addict again. That initial single did nothing, but the group were fast becoming one of the most popular in the Bay Area, and almost entirely down to Janis' vocals and on-stage persona. Bob Shad had already decided in the initial session that while various band members had taken lead, Janis was the one who should be focused on as the star, and when they drove to LA for their second recording session it was songs with Janis leads that they focused on. At that second session, in which they recorded ten tracks in two days, the group recorded a mix of material including one of Janis' own songs, the blues track "Women is Losers", and a version of the old folk song "the Cuckoo Bird" rearranged by Albin. Again they had to keep the arrangements to two and a half minutes a track, with no extended soloing and a pop arrangement style, and the results sound a lot more like the other San Francisco bands, notably Jefferson Airplane, than like the version of the band that shows itself in their live performances: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Coo Coo"] After returning to San Francisco after the sessions, Janis went to see Otis Redding at the Fillmore, turning up several hours before the show started on all three nights to make sure she could be right at the front. One of the other audience members later recalled “It was more fascinating for me, almost, to watch Janis watching Otis, because you could tell that she wasn't just listening to him, she was studying something. There was some kind of educational thing going on there. I was jumping around like the little hippie girl I was, thinking This is so great! and it just stopped me in my tracks—because all of a sudden Janis drew you very deeply into what the performance was all about. Watching her watch Otis Redding was an education in itself.” Joplin would, for the rest of her life, always say that Otis Redding was her all-time favourite singer, and would say “I started singing rhythmically, and now I'm learning from Otis Redding to push a song instead of just sliding over it.” [Excerpt: Otis Redding, "I Can't Turn You Loose (live)"] At the start of 1967, the group moved out of the rural house they'd been sharing and into separate apartments around Haight-Ashbury, and they brought the new year in by playing a free show organised by the Hell's Angels, the violent motorcycle gang who at the time were very close with the proto-hippies in the Bay Area. Janis in particular always got on well with the Angels, whose drugs of choice, like hers, were speed and alcohol more than cannabis and psychedelics. Janis also started what would be the longest on-again off-again relationship she would ever have, with a woman named Peggy Caserta. Caserta had a primary partner, but that if anything added to her appeal for Joplin -- Caserta's partner Kimmie had previously been in a relationship with Joan Baez, and Joplin, who had an intense insecurity that made her jealous of any other female singer who had any success, saw this as in some way a validation both of her sexuality and, transitively, of her talent. If she was dating Baez's ex's lover, that in some way put her on a par with Baez, and when she told friends about Peggy, Janis would always slip that fact in. Joplin and Caserta would see each other off and on for the rest of Joplin's life, but they were never in a monogamous relationship, and Joplin had many other lovers over the years. The next of these was Country Joe McDonald of Country Joe and the Fish, who were just in the process of recording their first album Electric Music for the Mind and Body, when McDonald and Joplin first got together: [Excerpt: Country Joe and the Fish, "Grace"] McDonald would later reminisce about lying with Joplin, listening to one of the first underground FM radio stations, KMPX, and them playing a Fish track and a Big Brother track back to back. Big Brother's second single, the other two songs recorded in the Chicago session, had been released in early 1967, and the B-side, "Down on Me", was getting a bit of airplay in San Francisco and made the local charts, though it did nothing outside the Bay Area: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Down on Me"] Janis was unhappy with the record, though, writing to her parents and saying, “Our new record is out. We seem to be pretty dissatisfied w/it. I think we're going to try & get out of the record contract if we can. We don't feel that they know how to promote or engineer a record & every time we recorded for them, they get all our songs, which means we can't do them for another record company. But then if our new record does something, we'd change our mind. But somehow, I don't think it's going to." The band apparently saw a lawyer to see if they could get out of the contract with Mainstream, but they were told it was airtight. They were tied to Bob Shad no matter what for the next five years. Janis and McDonald didn't stay together for long -- they clashed about his politics and her greater fame -- but after they split, she asked him to write a song for her before they became too distant, and he obliged and recorded it on the Fish's next album: [Excerpt: Country Joe and the Fish, "Janis"] The group were becoming so popular by late spring 1967 that when Richard Lester, the director of the Beatles' films among many other classics, came to San Francisco to film Petulia, his follow-up to How I Won The War, he chose them, along with the Grateful Dead, to appear in performance segments in the film. But it would be another filmmaker that would change the course of the group's career irrevocably: [Excerpt: Scott McKenzie, "San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair)"] When Big Brother and the Holding Company played the Monterey Pop Festival, nobody had any great expectations. They were second on the bill on the Saturday, the day that had been put aside for the San Francisco acts, and they were playing in the early afternoon, after a largely unimpressive night before. They had a reputation among the San Francisco crowd, of course, but they weren't even as big as the Grateful Dead, Moby Grape or Country Joe and the Fish, let alone Jefferson Airplane. Monterey launched four careers to new heights, but three of the superstars it made -- Otis Redding, Jimi Hendrix, and the Who -- already had successful careers. Hendrix and the Who had had hits in the UK but not yet broken the US market, while Redding was massively popular with Black people but hadn't yet crossed over to a white audience. Big Brother and the Holding Company, on the other hand, were so unimportant that D.A. Pennebaker didn't even film their set -- their manager at the time had not wanted to sign over the rights to film their performance, something that several of the other acts had also refused -- and nobody had been bothered enough to make an issue of it. Pennebaker just took some crowd shots and didn't bother filming the band. The main thing he caught was Cass Elliot's open-mouthed astonishment at Big Brother's performance -- or rather at Janis Joplin's performance. The members of the group would later complain, not entirely inaccurately, that in the reviews of their performance at Monterey, Joplin's left nipple (the outline of which was apparently visible through her shirt, at least to the male reviewers who took an inordinate interest in such things) got more attention than her four bandmates combined. As Pennebaker later said “She came out and sang, and my hair stood on end. We were told we weren't allowed to shoot it, but I knew if we didn't have Janis in the film, the film would be a wash. Afterward, I said to Albert Grossman, ‘Talk to her manager or break his leg or whatever you have to do, because we've got to have her in this film. I can't imagine this film without this woman who I just saw perform.” Grossman had a talk with the organisers of the festival, Lou Adler and John Phillips, and they offered Big Brother a second spot, the next day, if they would allow their performance to be used in the film. The group agreed, after much discussion between Janis and Grossman, and against the wishes of their manager: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Ball and Chain (live at Monterey)"] They were now on Albert Grossman's radar. Or at least, Janis Joplin was. Joplin had always been more of a careerist than the other members of the group. They were in music to have a good time and to avoid working a straight job, and while some of them were more accomplished musicians than their later reputations would suggest -- Sam Andrew, in particular, was a skilled player and serious student of music -- they were fundamentally content with playing the Avalon Ballroom and the Fillmore and making five hundred dollars or so a week between them. Very good money for 1967, but nothing else. Joplin, on the other hand, was someone who absolutely craved success. She wanted to prove to her family that she wasn't a failure and that her eccentricity shouldn't stop them being proud of her; she was always, even at the depths of her addictions, fiscally prudent and concerned about her finances; and she had a deep craving for love. Everyone who talks about her talks about how she had an aching need at all times for approval, connection, and validation, which she got on stage more than she got anywhere else. The bigger the audience, the more they must love her. She'd made all her decisions thus far based on how to balance making music that she loved with commercial success, and this would continue to be the pattern for her in future. And so when journalists started to want to talk to her, even though up to that point Albin, who did most of the on-stage announcements, and Gurley, the lead guitarist, had considered themselves joint leaders of the band, she was eager. And she was also eager to get rid of their manager, who continued the awkward streak that had prevented their first performance at the Monterey Pop Festival from being filmed. The group had the chance to play the Hollywood Bowl -- Bill Graham was putting on a "San Francisco Sound" showcase there, featuring Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead, and got their verbal agreement to play, but after Graham had the posters printed up, their manager refused to sign the contracts unless they were given more time on stage. The next day after that, they played Monterey again -- this time the Monterey Jazz Festival. A very different crowd to the Pop Festival still fell for Janis' performance -- and once again, the film being made of the event didn't include Big Brother's set because of their manager. While all this was going on, the group's recordings from the previous year were rushed out by Mainstream Records as an album, to poor reviews which complained it was nothing like the group's set at Monterey: [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Bye Bye Baby"] They were going to need to get out of that contract and sign with somewhere better -- Clive Davis at Columbia Records was already encouraging them to sign with him -- but to do that, they needed a better manager. They needed Albert Grossman. Grossman was one of the best negotiators in the business at that point, but he was also someone who had a genuine love for the music his clients made.  And he had good taste -- he managed Odetta, who Janis idolised as a singer, and Bob Dylan, who she'd been a fan of since his first album came out. He was going to be the perfect manager for the group. But he had one condition though. His first wife had been a heroin addict, and he'd just been dealing with Mike Bloomfield's heroin habit. He had one absolutely ironclad rule, a dealbreaker that would stop him signing them -- they didn't use heroin, did they? Both Gurley and Joplin had used heroin on occasion -- Joplin had only just started, introduced to the drug by Gurley -- but they were only dabblers. They could give it up any time they wanted, right? Of course they could. They told him, in perfect sincerity, that the band didn't use heroin and it wouldn't be a problem. But other than that, Grossman was extremely flexible. He explained to the group at their first meeting that he took a higher percentage than other managers, but that he would also make them more money than other managers -- if money was what they wanted. He told them that they needed to figure out where they wanted their career to be, and what they were willing to do to get there -- would they be happy just playing the same kind of venues they were now, maybe for a little more money, or did they want to be as big as Dylan or Peter, Paul, and Mary? He could get them to whatever level they wanted, and he was happy with working with clients at every level, what did they actually want? The group were agreed -- they wanted to be rich. They decided to test him. They were making twenty-five thousand dollars a year between them at that time, so they got ridiculously ambitious. They told him they wanted to make a *lot* of money. Indeed, they wanted a clause in their contract saying the contract would be void if in the first year they didn't make... thinking of a ridiculous amount, they came up with seventy-five thousand dollars. Grossman's response was to shrug and say "Make it a hundred thousand." The group were now famous and mixing with superstars -- Peter Tork of the Monkees had become a close friend of Janis', and when they played a residency in LA they were invited to John and Michelle Phillips' house to see a rough cut of Monterey Pop. But the group, other than Janis, were horrified -- the film barely showed the other band members at all, just Janis. Dave Getz said later "We assumed we'd appear in the movie as a band, but seeing it was a shock. It was all Janis. They saw her as a superstar in the making. I realized that though we were finally going to be making money and go to another level, it also meant our little family was being separated—there was Janis, and there was the band.” [Excerpt: Big Brother and the Holding Company, "Bye Bye Baby"] If the group were going to make that hundred thousand dollars a year, they couldn't remain on Mainstream Records, but Bob Shad was not about to give up his rights to what could potentially be the biggest group in America without a fight. But luckily for the group, Clive Davis at Columbia had seen their Monterey performance, and he was also trying to pivot the label towards the new rock music. He was basically willing to do anything to get them. Eventually Columbia agreed to pay Shad two hundred thousand dollars for the group's contract -- Davis and Grossman negotiated so half that was an advance on the group's future earnings, but the other half was just an expense for the label. On top of that the group got an advance payment of fifty thousand dollars for their first album for Columbia, making a total investment by Columbia of a quarter of a million dollars -- in return for which they got to sign the band, and got the rights to the material they'd recorded for Mainstream, though Shad would get a two percent royalty on their first two albums for Columbia. Janis was intimidated by signing for Columbia, because that had been Aretha Franklin's label before she signed to Atlantic, and she regarded Franklin as the greatest performer in music at that time.  Which may have had something to do with the choice of a new song the group added to their setlist in early 1968 -- one which was a current hit for Aretha's sister Erma: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] We talked a little in the last episode about the song "Piece of My Heart" itself, though mostly from the perspective of its performer, Erma Franklin. But the song was, as we mentioned, co-written by Bert Berns. He's someone we've talked about a little bit in previous episodes, notably the ones on "Here Comes the Night" and "Twist and Shout", but those were a couple of years ago, and he's about to become a major figure in the next episode, so we might as well take a moment here to remind listeners (or tell those who haven't heard those episodes) of the basics and explain where "Piece of My Heart" comes in Berns' work as a whole. Bert Berns was a latecomer to the music industry, not getting properly started until he was thirty-one, after trying a variety of other occupations. But when he did get started, he wasted no time making his mark -- he knew he had no time to waste. He had a weak heart and knew the likelihood was he was going to die young. He started an association with Wand records as a songwriter and performer, writing songs for some of Phil Spector's pre-fame recordings, and he also started producing records for Atlantic, where for a long while he was almost the equal of Jerry Wexler or Leiber and Stoller in terms of number of massive hits created. His records with Solomon Burke were the records that first got the R&B genre renamed soul (previously the word "soul" mostly referred to a kind of R&Bish jazz, rather than a kind of gospel-ish R&B). He'd also been one of the few American music industry professionals to work with British bands before the Beatles made it big in the USA, after he became alerted to the Beatles' success with his song "Twist and Shout", which he'd co-written with Phil Medley, and which had been a hit in a version Berns produced for the Isley Brothers: [Excerpt: The Isley Brothers, "Twist and Shout"] That song shows the two elements that existed in nearly every single Bert Berns song or production. The first is the Afro-Caribbean rhythm, a feel he picked up during a stint in Cuba in his twenties. Other people in the Atlantic records team were also partial to those rhythms -- Leiber and Stoller loved what they called the baion rhythm -- but Berns more than anyone else made it his signature. He also very specifically loved the song "La Bamba", especially Ritchie Valens' version of it: [Excerpt: Ritchie Valens, "La Bamba"] He basically seemed to think that was the greatest record ever made, and he certainly loved that three-chord trick I-IV-V-IV chord sequence -- almost but not quite the same as the "Louie Louie" one.  He used it in nearly every song he wrote from that point on -- usually using a bassline that went something like this: [plays I-IV-V-IV bassline] He used it in "Twist and Shout" of course: [Excerpt: The Isley Brothers, "Twist and Shout"] He used it in "Hang on Sloopy": [Excerpt: The McCoys, "Hang on Sloopy"] He *could* get more harmonically sophisticated on occasion, but the vast majority of Berns' songs show the power of simplicity. They're usually based around three chords, and often they're actually only two chords, like "I Want Candy": [Excerpt: The Strangeloves, "I Want Candy"] Or the chorus to "Here Comes the Night" by Them, which is two chords for most of it and only introduces a third right at the end: [Excerpt: Them, "Here Comes the Night"] And even in that song you can hear the "Twist and Shout"/"La Bamba" feel, even if it's not exactly the same chords. Berns' whole career was essentially a way of wringing *every last possible drop* out of all the implications of Ritchie Valens' record. And so even when he did a more harmonically complex song, like "Piece of My Heart", which actually has some minor chords in the bridge, the "La Bamba" chord sequence is used in both the verse: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] And the chorus: [Excerpt: Erma Franklin, "Piece of My Heart"] Berns co-wrote “Piece of My Heart” with Jerry Ragavoy. Berns and Ragavoy had also written "Cry Baby" for Garnet Mimms, which was another Joplin favourite: [Excerpt: Garnet Mimms, "Cry Baby"] And Ragavoy, with other collaborators