said I, incredulous.
“No, we never do that. We just make it up as we go along.”
I guess that’s rock and roll, but that’s an anathema to me. I don’t “wing it.” I’m a stickler for “process” when it comes to performing. When I act, I don’t use understudies, I do all my own camera rehearsals, and I am never late. I never arrive without all my lines learned. And I showed up to Nashville with my fifty sets of lyrics, ready to work.
First thing in the morning.
Which for Ben, was around 11:30.
RULE: Don’t Assume It’s Ben Folds Five. More Like Seven or Eight, If You’re Lucky.
Ben was very rock-and-roll. When he said to arrive at 11 A.M. , I would be waiting for a half hour to an hour. Eventually, I had to have a sit-down with him. We were paying for the studio space—why waste it? Being on a schedule is very un-rock-and-roll, but being not rock-and-roll is the most rock-and-roll thing you can do, right? I was totally being rock-and-roll with my un-rock-and-rollness.
Ben and I learned a lot from one another. He taught me about music, about the power of collaboration, about telling the truth with my lyrics. I like to think I taught him about the little hand and big hand on the clock. We put together a great album—in two weeks. And have maintained a friendship ever since.
Before long, we were performing together in support of the album, even appearing on
The Tonight Show with Jay Leno
, which by then had been Fred de Cordova–free for many years. After we performed “Common People,” no one was mouthing “what the fuck?”
We played the entire album, with a full band, including Joe Jackson and Henry Rollins, at the historic El Rey Theatre in Los Angeles. “El rey” means “the king,” and I certainly felt like royalty in front of the eight hundred young people who came out to cheer us on. The acceptance I felt from the audience was overwhelming, and really gratifying.
The golden throats of the capacity crowd were united in cheers.
The El Rey show ended, we went backstage, and the crowd continued to cheer for thirty minutes. Unfortunately, we had run through all our songs. There were no more on the album, and Joe Jackson had vanished in a green mist, but I wanted to give the crowd more.
So we went out and did “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”—the Shatner way!
Sure, my groovy premise for
The Transformed Man
had long been forgotten
,
but in the forty intervening years, I was the one who transformed. The audience transformed. The people in front of me at the El Rey
got
it
.
I. Was. Vindicated.
I’m not a vulgar man, but at the end of the number, I raised my middle finger into the air. I raised it high, I raised it proud. It wasn’t so much a “fuck you,” but a more rock-and-roll version of “I’m number one!”
The spotlight caught it and held it. It was power, it was defiance, and it was . . .
Transformative.
And I held it up high enough for Freddy de Cordova to see in Heaven.
Shatner Gets Serious
My musical career is one of the best examples of the mighty power of saying “yes.” I said “yes” to doing a trippy, experimental album in 1968. I was certainly flogged aplenty for it, but a few years later, a young man said “yes” to buying it, enjoyed it, and asked me to further explore my musical horizons. Ben and I later said “yes” to performing in a series of Priceline commercials, which were seen by David E. Kelley, who was inspired to cast me as Denny Crane in
The Practice
, which then led to
Boston Legal
, which then led to two Emmy awards. There have been a few sour notes along the way, but the praises of “yes” are certainly worth singing.
Or at least speak-singing.
SECOND RULE FOR TURNING 80: Don’t Be Afraid to Ask for Help
WANTED: ONE SPOTTER NEEDED FOR WELL-KNOWN MEDIA PERSONALITY
ARE YOU A MOTIVATED SELF-STARTER, WITH A GOOD EYE FOR DETAIL? AND CRUMBS? Then you have what it takes to work for an
“No, we never do that. We just make it up as we go along.”
I guess that’s rock and roll, but that’s an anathema to me. I don’t “wing it.” I’m a stickler for “process” when it comes to performing. When I act, I don’t use understudies, I do all my own camera rehearsals, and I am never late. I never arrive without all my lines learned. And I showed up to Nashville with my fifty sets of lyrics, ready to work.
First thing in the morning.
Which for Ben, was around 11:30.
RULE: Don’t Assume It’s Ben Folds Five. More Like Seven or Eight, If You’re Lucky.
Ben was very rock-and-roll. When he said to arrive at 11 A.M. , I would be waiting for a half hour to an hour. Eventually, I had to have a sit-down with him. We were paying for the studio space—why waste it? Being on a schedule is very un-rock-and-roll, but being not rock-and-roll is the most rock-and-roll thing you can do, right? I was totally being rock-and-roll with my un-rock-and-rollness.
Ben and I learned a lot from one another. He taught me about music, about the power of collaboration, about telling the truth with my lyrics. I like to think I taught him about the little hand and big hand on the clock. We put together a great album—in two weeks. And have maintained a friendship ever since.
Before long, we were performing together in support of the album, even appearing on
The Tonight Show with Jay Leno
, which by then had been Fred de Cordova–free for many years. After we performed “Common People,” no one was mouthing “what the fuck?”
We played the entire album, with a full band, including Joe Jackson and Henry Rollins, at the historic El Rey Theatre in Los Angeles. “El rey” means “the king,” and I certainly felt like royalty in front of the eight hundred young people who came out to cheer us on. The acceptance I felt from the audience was overwhelming, and really gratifying.
The golden throats of the capacity crowd were united in cheers.
The El Rey show ended, we went backstage, and the crowd continued to cheer for thirty minutes. Unfortunately, we had run through all our songs. There were no more on the album, and Joe Jackson had vanished in a green mist, but I wanted to give the crowd more.
So we went out and did “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”—the Shatner way!
Sure, my groovy premise for
The Transformed Man
had long been forgotten
,
but in the forty intervening years, I was the one who transformed. The audience transformed. The people in front of me at the El Rey
got
it
.
I. Was. Vindicated.
I’m not a vulgar man, but at the end of the number, I raised my middle finger into the air. I raised it high, I raised it proud. It wasn’t so much a “fuck you,” but a more rock-and-roll version of “I’m number one!”
The spotlight caught it and held it. It was power, it was defiance, and it was . . .
Transformative.
And I held it up high enough for Freddy de Cordova to see in Heaven.
Shatner Gets Serious
My musical career is one of the best examples of the mighty power of saying “yes.” I said “yes” to doing a trippy, experimental album in 1968. I was certainly flogged aplenty for it, but a few years later, a young man said “yes” to buying it, enjoyed it, and asked me to further explore my musical horizons. Ben and I later said “yes” to performing in a series of Priceline commercials, which were seen by David E. Kelley, who was inspired to cast me as Denny Crane in
The Practice
, which then led to
Boston Legal
, which then led to two Emmy awards. There have been a few sour notes along the way, but the praises of “yes” are certainly worth singing.
Or at least speak-singing.
SECOND RULE FOR TURNING 80: Don’t Be Afraid to Ask for Help
WANTED: ONE SPOTTER NEEDED FOR WELL-KNOWN MEDIA PERSONALITY
ARE YOU A MOTIVATED SELF-STARTER, WITH A GOOD EYE FOR DETAIL? AND CRUMBS? Then you have what it takes to work for an
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