Working Class Man

by Jimmy Barnes

  ‘Just let me play you a few more things.’ Chas was manic by this point and proceeded to play me song after song, all earmarked for someone else. There was one for Stevie Nicks, one for Don Henley, and some for other great singers. Then he played me a song that seemed not to be for anyone. I liked it better than all the songs he’d played so far. It was the kind of song I wanted to sing.

  ‘What’s this song?’

  ‘Oh. I didn’t mean to play this one. It’s for my solo record. Forget I played it.’

  I sat on the edge of my chair. ‘But wait a minute, you did play it, Chas, and I like it. What’s it called?’ I asked.

  ‘Don Henley wanted this one too. But I’m saving it. I knew I shouldn’t have played it for you.’ He looked at the ground. I could tell he was nervous.

  ‘What’s it called?’

  ‘I’d Die to Be with You Tonight,’ he mumbled under his breath.

  ‘I like it. I think you should give it to me,’ I said. ‘When are you recording your record?’ I was cornering him and he knew it.

  ‘As soon as I get time. Soon. Very soon. Maybe this year. But I got a lot of songs to write for people.’

  This was what I thought. He had plenty of time to write for himself.

  ‘Just give that one to me. Surely a talented guy like you can write another one for yourself whenever you need it.’

  He picked up the guitar and started working again. ‘I’ll write you another one. Better than that one, okay?’

  It took a few days but eventually, with the help of Gary Gersh, Chas parted with the song and I had a new track for my album.

  NEXT GARY SENT ME to work with a couple of big songwriters. Tom Kelly and Billy Steinberg had written ‘Like a Virgin’ for Madonna. So off I went, not knowing what to expect. I arrived at a nice house in the Valley somewhere and was met by Billy. We sat and talked for a while and then Billy said, ‘You know, Jimmy, I really like your voice but unfortunately we don’t have a lot of time. Maybe if you could leave me a few songs you’ve started, we could finish them off for you. That’s about the best I can do.’

  So that’s what I did. I had a couple of songs I’d started writing with a friend in Germany and never finished. They were tough, German-sounding rock songs. I gave him a tape of them and left. ‘I’ll come back on Monday and see how it’s going,’ I said as I jumped into my hire car. ‘See you then.’

  When Monday came around I was surprisingly excited. ‘Like a Virgin’ wasn’t my favourite song but it appeared these guys were very good at what they did. I arrived, and again, Billy was the only one there.

  ‘We finished off two of them. We made some new demos. Hope you like them.’ He handed me a tape. I think he had someone in the studio already so I didn’t even go inside.

  I thanked him and drove back over the hills. On the way I played the cassette in the car. My tough rock songs now sounded like German cabaret songs sung by a cantor, with the slightest hint of Madonna thrown in for good measure. I never played them again. I wanted to throw the tape out the window but I drove to Gary’s office and gave it to him.

  He agreed they were not for me. ‘Too bad. You know, it might have worked. These guys are great but it’s just not the sound we’re looking for, is it?’

  I tried not to laugh. This was certainly not the sound I was looking for. I was glad he agreed with me. It could have been a deal breaker.

  He went on, ‘So, take a seat a minute. I want to play you something.’ Gary sat at his desk. I lay on his couch.

  ‘I called in a few favours. I asked my friend Little Steven for a song for you and he sent me this. Do you know who he is?’

  Of course I did. I loved Bruce Springsteen, everybody did. And everybody in music knew Stevie played with him. Gary then proceeded to play a demo of a song that was obviously recorded on a dictaphone, with an acoustic guitar and what sounded like someone beating time on a couch, but it still sounded really great. That song was ‘Ride the Night Away’, written by Stevie van Zandt and Steve Jordan.

  ‘I really like it. Who will produce it? Will they do it?’

  I got the feeling Gary couldn’t deliver either Steve to produce. He said, ‘I want to keep the Australian flavour of the record alive so why don’t we get your friend Mark Opitz to come over here and do it? I can keep an eye on him then.’

  I knew Mark would hate that but at least he’d be involved. ‘Yeah. Good idea. I’ll ask him.’ The album was taking shape.

  ‘I’ve asked another songwriter to come and meet us today. A guy called Jonathan Cain. Do you know him at all? He used to be in The Babys and now he’s in a band called Journey.’

  I loved The Babys and had heard of Journey. They were massive in the States but hadn’t really worked in Australia.

  ‘I’m going to play you a song of his I want you to do. My idea is to get this guy to produce you.’

  He played me a song called ‘American Heartbeat’.

  ‘It’s okay but it’s not really for me. I’m an Australian singer, not American. I’m Scottish too – but “American Heartbeat”, I don’t think so,’ I said.

  But Gary had a plan. ‘This is America. It’s a different market to Australia. I know this market so you have to listen to me. When he comes just tell him you love it and see what happens. I’m asking you to trust me on this one.’

  Now Gary had set up a couple of good things already so I felt that I should listen to what he had in mind, even though my instincts were telling me to run home. I was feeling out of my depth and I was trying not to lash out at him, not yet anyway.

  An hour later Jonathan turned up at the office. He was dressed in spandex tights and the loudest, tightest-fitting T-shirt I’d ever seen. His hair was perfect, not a hair out of place, and I could have sworn he was wearing makeup. Maybe I imagined the makeup.

  We spoke for a while. He obviously loved music and he knew what he was talking about. And even though I wasn’t completely convinced, I told him, ‘I’ll record this song if you’ll produce it.’

  He agreed. That was one of the best deals I did in America. Jon was a great songwriter and a great guy and it was the start of a beautiful collaboration. I thought in the back of my head that in the end I would leave the track off the record, but when it came down to the final choice I listened to Gary and I left it on. I feel that ultimately that was a mistake. I should always trust my instincts, full stop.

  Jon called me a few days after our meeting. He was excited; I could hear it in his voice. ‘Hey, Jimmy. You know how we were talking about your audiences? How they’re blue-collar folk and salt of the earth and loyal and all that?’

  I wondered where this was going. Again I was worried. ‘Yeah. I remember, Jon.’

  ‘I’ve written you a song about them. It’s called “Working Class Man”. I think it’s a smash hit myself. I’ll send it to you.’

  What was this going to be like? Another ‘American Heartbeat’? I was panicked until the song arrived. Jon was right. From the minute I heard the song I knew it was for me. There were a few lines that were too American – ‘Across the wild Midwestern sky’ for instance – but I would sing it differently when I got the song home. I would make it Australian. I would sing it from an Australian perspective with an Australian attitude. A good song is a good song after all.

  So Jon and I went into the studio and cut two songs. The band he put together consisted of Jon on keyboards; Tony Brock, a drummer I loved, who would end up playing in my live band for the next ten years; Randy Jackson, a bass player who played with Aretha Franklin and Keith Richards; and Dave Amato, a great LA guitar player who played with a lot of different bands. The sessions went really well and this became the basis of the band I would use for a few albums.

  The next thing I had to do was cut the song I had wrangled out of Chas. Chas wanted to produce it himself and I’m sure he could have done a great job but Gary had another idea. ‘Jimmy, I want to get Waddy Wachtel and a few of the guys from Little Feat to play on this with you. I’ll get
Thom Panunzio to engineer it.’

  Thom had a pedigree as long as my arm. Bruce Springsteen, Patti Smith, The Rolling Stones, and I loved Little Feat even though we’d had a run-in with them many years before. So this was exciting. I ended up in the studio with Bill Payne, Kenny Gradney and Sam Clayton, along with Waddy Wachtel and Kim Carnes. I couldn’t have been happier. When that was done, I was sent to work with Mark Opitz and Mick Fleetwood and a few friends, Billy Burnette and Charlie Sexton and Kenny Gradney again, and cut ‘Ride the Night Away’.

  I was in heaven. These were players I had read about since I was a kid. This was as good as it gets. I just had to keep it together. I tried but I’m not sure I did that good a job. Cocaine was easily available in Los Angeles. And I was always ready to drink too much. It was too easy to forget why I was there and just have a good time. But somehow I got things done. Sitting in the studio, with my heart pounding from way too much coke, while trying to speak to these musicians about real music was a challenge. But I did it. Only just.

  ONE DAY, AFTER FINISHING recording, I got home and Jane was waiting to go out. ‘I just want to catch the shops before they close. The children are asleep. Can you keep an eye on them for a little while?’

  I was hardly in the door and Jane had her shoes on and was halfway out. She was obviously in a hurry. On the way out she turned to me. ‘Oh yes. Eddie Van Halen called for you. Bye!’

  Did I hear her right? ‘Wait a minute. What did you say?’

  Jane barely stopped. ‘Eddie Van Halen called for you and he left his number. It’s on the desk. He asked if you would call him back.’ And she was gone.

  I looked on the desk and there was a number and Eddie’s name written down next to it. I called the number and waited for an answer. It must be a joke.

  ‘Hello.’ The voice was soft and sweet. It wasn’t Eddie. It was a woman.

  ‘Er, yeah. Hi. It’s Jimmy Barnes here. I was asked to call this number and talk to Eddie.’

  There was a short silence. ‘Hi Jimmy, it’s Valerie Bertinelli here. Eddie’s wife. How are you doing?’

  I was confused but I answered, ‘I’m fine. Yeah. Fine. And you?’ It was a joke. Who was this?

  ‘I’m great. Just hang on and I’ll get Eddie.’

  I heard her put the phone down and I waited. After about two minutes Eddie came to the phone. ‘Hello Jimmy. Thank you for calling. I was wondering if you could come over to my house, I’d like to talk to you about something important.’

  Jane was gone. I couldn’t drive anywhere because the kids were sleeping. Besides, I’d had a few drinks and I didn’t want to risk driving.

  ‘Sorry. Do you mean now?’ I said politely.

  ‘Yeah. It would be good if you are available.’

  I explained that I was home babysitting and couldn’t go anywhere.

  Eddie quickly spoke again. ‘Well, where are you? I’ll come to see you if that’s cool.’

  I gave him the address. What could this be about? I knew that David Lee Roth was out of his band so I thought maybe he needed a singer for something. I sat and waited. It wasn’t long until there was a knock at the door. I opened it and there was Eddie Van Halen and another guy. Eddie mumbled a few introductions that I didn’t quite catch. But I think it was himself and Ted Templeman, his producer. We sat down.

  ‘We were wondering if you would be interested in trying out for the band. We need a singer and you come highly recommended.’

  They both sat looking at me. I was flattered but a bit rattled at the same time. I had just started my record.

  ‘Listen, I’ve just left a band after ten years and I’m not really sure I want to join another one, to tell you the truth.’ I tried to be as polite as possible. ‘But I do love Van Halen and I would love to sing with you. I just started recording my first record for America and I –’

  Eddie cut me off. He was a bit erratic and rushed. ‘The new band is nothing like Van Halen. We’re going to do mainly ballads,’ he said, almost under his breath. I got the feeling he wasn’t sure what he wanted at that time.

  I had to be sure I heard right. ‘If you’re just doing ballads, I might not be the best man for the job. But I do love your band.’

  He stood up as quickly as he’d sat down and headed for the door.

  ‘Hey, but Eddie, if you need someone to scream all over your record, I’m available,’ I joked, but he was already halfway out the door and then was gone. What was that? It was like a whirlwind. It was definitely Eddie Van Halen. I knew that because I was a big fan. I sat and tried to digest it all. Eventually Jane came home and I told her the story.

  She wasn’t that impressed. ‘Shall we go out for dinner now?’ she said. My Eddie Van Halen story seemed to mean nothing to her. I’m not that sure she knew who he was.

  ‘Sure. What do you want to eat?’ I said. We went to dinner. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I had imagined the whole thing. I should at least have gone for a sing but it all happened too fast.

  THE RECORD WAS READY to be mixed. Gary came through with his promise to get Bob Clearmountain to do it and I travelled to New York to meet him.

  Staying at the Ritz Carlton was scary and amazing at the same time. Suddenly having a suite overlooking Central Park blew my mind. The city that never sleeps. Did I need to be here? I never slept anyway. I had a room full of booze and cocaine and I went crazy. By the time I got to the studio I was almost falling apart. But all I had to do was sit and watch Bob work. It would be easy. Or so I thought. I got to the studio and Bob was waiting, ready to go.

  ‘Hi Jimmy. I’ve been listening to your stuff and I hear it much different to the way it’s been done. I want you to sing it all again.’

  I swallowed hard. Was I in a state to sing? I wasn’t sure.

  ‘Cool. Whatever you want. I’m ready,’ I lied.

  Bob wanted me to sing in the control room right next to him. We set up and I thought, since we were going to spend a lot of time together, I should lay it all on the table.

  ‘I like to drink and take the odd bit of drugs while I sing, Bob. Is that cool with you?’

  Bob smiled. ‘Whatever it takes, Jimmy.’

  I emptied my pockets. An ounce of weed and a big bag of coke. I picked up my bag and pulled out a bottle of Stolichnaya, then rubbed my hands together. ‘I’m ready when you are,’ I announced.

  We went about singing the first four songs. Bob couldn’t believe how well I sang, especially when he saw what I was consuming. I would roll a joint and light it up, then pour a drink and lay out about a gram of cocaine – smoking, snorting and drinking all at the same time. Bob did none of this stuff. He was dead straight. I’d sing one song and then Bob would chop up the multitrack tape and rearrange the song on the spot. He was like a surgeon. It was amazing. I’d never seen an engineer work like this. In Australia, we used razor blades for chopping other things, not the master tapes.

  By the end of the first night we had completed four songs. Bob turned to me and smiled. ‘I don’t know how you did that. I’ve worked with a lot of great singers but none have worked as fast as you. I just finished an album with David Bowie and he took a month to sing one song. You just did four in a night. That’s unbelievable. Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I bounced off the walls as I left the studio, looking for my hotel suite and any trouble I could find along the way.

  Next day Bob looked worried. He asked me, ‘Could you take drugs in a different room? They really affected me, I don’t know why. I couldn’t sleep.’ He had bags under his eyes.

  ‘No worries, mate.’

  The album was finished in five days and I headed back to Australia to await the outcome. Would Gary like it, or would it all be too wild for him? Would Michael think we had a chance or had I missed the mark? And would Jane think I had done well and see how hard I had worked for us? I’d have to wait and see.

  The album For the Working Class Man came out in Australia in May 1985 and entered the charts at number one.
Mark Pope and I came up with the ideas for the ‘Working Class Man’ film clip and the tour that followed. He helped me fight with Mushroom to bring the record out at the right discount price. Because most of the material had been out already on Bodyswerve, we wanted it kept below thirteen dollars. This was a big deal for a double album at that time. The whole concept of giving something back to the punters was a big part of its success.

  Unfortunately, things didn’t go as well in America. In the end, the album was too Australian; we hadn’t changed it enough to make it suit the US market. But what we had done was kick my career in Australia into the next gear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  this business is full of crooks

  A NOTE ON MONEY

  MUSIC IS A BUSINESS. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not. If you don’t want to be in the business, then get a little band and play in your garage. If you want someone to sink money into what you’re doing, then be prepared to work. It’s hard work, but like any hard work if you do it right it will pay off. Now I say that with reservations. Paying off might not mean fame and money. Paying off will mean you will get good at what you do. And if you love what you are doing enough to stick with it, you will be happy. There are a lot of bands and musicians who never make a cent and are perfectly happy.

  BACK IN AUSTRALIA, THINGS kept getting bigger and bigger. Record sales, concert ticket sales. The family was growing, the house needed to be bigger. My drug use was slowly becoming more of a problem, as was my drinking. But the thing I noticed most was my debts were growing. The more I earned the more I spent. Our little country house was becoming too small for my growing family. We were spending a lot of time down in the country although we were still renting a house in Sydney. We didn’t want to be in the city that much and we both knew more babies were on the way.

  Fred Legg had been married to Millie, a friend of Jane’s, for many years. He was an excellent builder and we decided that he would help us with our extensions. Fred was a top-quality operator and we knew that what we wanted would not come cheap. But after all, this was our home. I wanted it to be perfect, although the idea of finding enough money for the extensions was making me lose sleep. I would have to work harder.