I am probably the only teenager who ever asked her dad to turn down his music. Dad would come home from the studio at midnight or later and be so jazzed to play his new stuff. Id often wait up for him, and hed play the master so loud that my ribs reverberated in my chest. In his office on 16th Avenue, when one of the House of Gold writers wrote a hit -- say like The Wind Beneath My Wings or Love in the First Degree -- wed all gather in his office and listen to the demo that had been engineered in the attic studio. Again, Id stand toward the back of the wall, because a wall of sound came toward me. But I miss those days and nights, a front row seat, watching a creative genius at work-- one who happened to be my dad. Grateful for all the times he let me hang out at the studio with him and for the opportunity to work for him doing PR and later administering publishing rights at House of Gold. It was like family at that special little house of hits.
Posted on: Wed, 26 Nov 2014 02:51:37 +0000
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