The Troubled Genius of Phil Spector

Don’t expect a hagiography. Phil Spector is not a likable person. As a man, he’s vain and aloof, with an ego that could rival Napoleon’s. As a producer, he’s been obsessive and temperamental, not particularly polite to the musicians and singers he’s worked with. This is a man who cheated his partners, who made his second wife a prisoner in their home, who’d pull a gun at anyone for no sane reason. Then there’s that horrific murder that put him in the league of lost souls like Joe Meek and Jim Gordon. 

Spector is not a mensch, yet his place in musical history can’t be denied. Songs like Be My Baby and You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling still bring us sheer joy; they cement memories and create new ones for those who listen for the first time. I’m decidedly less fond of the man who produced them.

Spector’s sad childhood provided inspiration and propulsion to his career. When he was a young child, his father committed suicide. The trauma marked him for life. He took refuge in music, becoming a jazz nerd and a crack guitar player in his early teens. At age 17, he had his first success as a member of The Teddy Bears with To Know Him Is To Love Him, which became a #1 hit in 1958. The name of the song came from the engraving on his father’s grave.

Follow-up songs failed to chart and the group, having had enough of Spector’s growing ego and his sister’s bad management, disbanded. Undaunted in his quest for fame, he formed other L.A. groups. He was good at choosing players, but couldn’t hold them. It seemed he was destined to become another teenage has-been. That’s when publisher Lester Sill came to the rescue. Sill had been impressed by the way Spector ran sessions. He procured an internship for him in New York with his publishing partners, Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller, the industry’s top writer-producers. Spector made the trip from L.A. to New York, bunked at their office, and watched the team like a hawk.

Leiber and Stoller distrusted Spector. Leiber has remarked that, “he wore his ambition like an overcoat; it was all over him”. Leiber also witnessed Spector’s terrific fear of being alone, a fear he carried since his father’s suicide. Regardless of this, the team kept Spector under their watch. Spector honed his skills, partnered with other songwriters, and made industry connections. He wrote Spanish Harlem with them, which became a huge hit for Ben E. King. They entrusted Spector with some sessions, and soon he was making a name for himself with Corinna, Corrina (Ray Peterson) and Pretty Little Angel Eyes (Curtis Lee). He was also making deals behind their backs. 

Spector breached his contract with Leiber and Stoller. He went on to work for Atlantic. When that didn’t pan out, he walked. He still kept cutting records, including Paris Sisters’ sessions for his mentor Lester Sill. With Sill, he founded Philles Records in 1961, whose long string of hits started with The Crystals’ There’s No Other Like My Baby. Sill’s reign as co-owner would be short lived. Spector undermined him from the start, and by 1962 he had bought him out. The acrimonious split was seen by industry insiders as a stab in the back from Spector, who was now sole owner of the label at age 21.

1962 was a pivotal year, which saw the release of The Crystals’ He’s A Rebel, a smash hit that would solidify Spector’s signature sound. Spector’s methods ran contrary to industry standards. He wasn’t looking for clarity; what he pursued was the sound of temples and the grand scale of Wagner operas. In an age when eight-track recorders were available, he recorded in mono, using no more than four tracks as he bounced the sounds, all of which would be captured by microphones inside an echo chamber. This dense, reverberating wall of sound usually tipped the VU scale, the distortion keeping engineers on their toes. A large number of well-paid musicians were used, double or tripling the same instrument and playing the same chords. Like Lieber and Stoller before him, Spector moved percussion instruments to the foreground, with maracas, castanets, and tambourines adding depth to the aural design.

Spector’s joyful noise relied on a roster of remarkable talent that included arranger Jack Nitzsche, songwriters Jeff Barry, Ellie Greenwich, Cynthia Weil, and Barry Mann, and a sharp team of L.A. session players nicknamed The Wrecking Crew. Equally essential were the voices of Darlene Love and Bobby Sheen, although Spector seldom told them under what group name their recordings would be released.

Between 1962 and 1965, Philles Records kept a constant presence on the charts, and Spector’s Wall Of Sound was widely imitated on both sides of the Atlantic. The company even survived the onslaught of British beat groups with the blue-eyed soul of The Righteous Brothers and the exuberant Ronettes. It all came to a crashing halt in 1966 with the release of Ike and Tina Turner’s River Deep – Mountain High, which stalled at No. 88. There’s a reason for this; it didn’t sound like any trend going on in pop, rock, or soul. Moreover, Spector wouldn’t cater to DJs and distributors, a terrible mistake at a time when major labels were consolidating their power. The song was a smash hit abroad, but its failure in America put Philles out of business.

While the pop world was undergoing a major transformation, Spector remained idle, not seeing another hit until 1969 with the release of Black Pearl (The Checkmates). As a hired hand, he worked for The Beatles on the Let It Be album, which was actually a salvage job when none of them wanted to sort through the recorded mess. His association continued with solo albums, including the sound-walled All Things Must Pass for George Harrison and the sparse John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, both released in 1970.

After an accident in the mid-seventies, Spector became a recluse. He kept his grand schemes going, but albums were abandoned or shelved. What was actually produced was disappointing for the artists involved. For instance, his controversial production of Leonard Cohen’s Death of a Ladies’ Man (1978) ended in a bitter feud. The Ramones’ End of the Century (1979) divided the group’s opinion, although it was their highest charting album at #44.

However tarnished, Spector’s reputation remains strong. Cemented in the past, it’s evident on old hits like the dreamlike Walking In The Rain (Ronettes) and shines as bright on B-sides and rarities. Stumble and Fall (Darlene Love) and I’ll Never Need More Than This (Ike and Tina Turner) were never released in the USA, but these buoyant songs have the power to curl toes. When I Saw You is another gem, this one written by Spector himself. Sung by future wife Veronica Bennett, it has an eerie quality to its grooves that turns unnerving when the lyrics associate love with madness. 

Spector is now in prison, serving 19 years to life. A judge has passed sentence on him, so I won’t. A man’s life is a complex mix of virtues, vices, and fears. The picture of this man isn’t complete without pointing out one saving virtue – his love of music. Through him, there’s a legacy of great recording that should be celebrated. Not to do so would deny proper due to the artists, songwriters, and musicians who made these modern classics.