To Know Him is
to Love, Marry, Divorce, Then Sue Him

by Will 'The Cranky Music Man' Golightly

Phil Spector became the premier producer of the sixties with his "Wall of Sound". It was essentially a ton of musicians all playing at once, but that’s not to detract from the man’s greatness; his records still sound fantastic today. To be a producer is to know all of his great recordings inside and out—from the galloping "Da Doo Ron Ron" to the mammoth "There’s No Other Like My Baby". He also produced the Righteous Brothers (who were neither righteous nor brothers) during their brief relevance, but we won’t hold that against him.

His most famous recording is undoubtedly "Be My Baby", performed by the Ronettes. When Brian Wilson heard it for the first time, on his car radio, he had to pull over to the side of the road. If nothing else, it has the most famous three bass thumps and snare smack in popular music.

The Ronettes have been done wrong, however. The point of contention between the band and their producer is, of course, royalties. They were paid a lump sum of just over $14,000 in 1964, and nothing since. But the story is a little more complicated than that. As one might deduce from her name, lead singer Ronnie Spector was once married to good old Phil. It happened in 1968, lasting six years before she left him, citing "mental cruelty."

So a little over a decade ago the band (Ronnie, sister Estelle Bennett, and their cousin Nedra Talley) filed suit against the man that made them famous. Last week a decision was handed down: Spector was in breach of contract by not paying royalties for the songs licensed to movies (like the absurd Dirty Dancing), TV shows (Moonlighting, the high-water mark for American television), and compilation albums galore. They were awarded $2.6 million.

They had asked for $11 million and, more importantly, ownership of the master tapes. Sensibly, the judge left those in Spector’s possession. It is expected that he will appeal the decision.

Spector’s most impressive disciple, as mentioned earlier, is Brian Wilson although it seems he may have taken Spector’s example a bit too literally. After setting a standard rarely met with his recordings from the early part of the decade, in 1966 Spector released his self proclaimed masterpiece "River Deep, Mountain High" by Ike and Tina Turner. It was a chart failure in the U.S., devastating the already eccentric Spector; he never worked regularly again.

He occasionally came out of his semi-retirement: he was hired to salvage (or ruin, depending on who you ask) the Beatles’ Let It Be tapes, and he worked on several of Lennon’s solo albums. One of his final projects was Leonard Cohen’s 1977 album, Death of a Ladies’ Man. During its recording, Spector littered the studio with handguns, occasionally pointing them at his singer. At the end of every day he would take the tapes home with him under the protection of armed guards. Cohen was completely shut out of the final stages of recording; his parts on the released album are all scratch vocals intended to be re-recorded.

Brian Wilson wins the weirdness competition, but only by a nose. During the recording of his aborted masterpiece, "Smile", he called Spector a "mind gangster". Wilson, paranoid and delusional, was convinced Spector was tormenting him, convinced his idol was making studios release movies that would intentionally mess with Wilson’s head. Wilson descended into drugs and mental illness, which he has partly recovered from. Spector’s life became one of guns and seclusion—and a lengthy lawsuit with his ex-wife. But there’s hope for him yet; Tom Cruise has wanted to play him in a movie for years (they’re both surprisingly short). Hopefully Brian Wilson can handle it.