What Are We Gonna Do With All This Trash?: Spector To Produce Amazing Cell-Block Rap Records

March 19, 2007

Spector To Produce Amazing Cell-Block Rap Records

Tell me, first off: Is this the face of a killer?

Well, yeah, kind of. I’d never presume someone’s guilt before trial, but when a former B-movie actress winds up dead in your foyer from a gunshot wound to the face, and you’ve taken to looking like the villain from a 1930s horror picture, suspicion is bound to surface.

Oh, yeah, and then there’s your decades-old reputation for being bat-shit crazy.

Hailed as a musical genius for his innovative production technique known as the Wall of Sound, whereby live, orchestra-style instrumentation is channeled through an echo chamber, Phil Spector has to his credit almost 50 hit songs for artists such as the Crystals, the Beatles, and the Righteous Brothers.

I love Phil Spector. The songs he made with his girl groups, like the Ronnettes and the Paris Sisters, are some of my favorite songs ever. But I also love Phil Spector because he provides some of the best gone-crazy stories.

Spector’s ex-wife, Ronnie, of the Ronnettes, claimed that Phil often threatened to kill her if she ever left him. When she finally got free and sued him for divorce, Phil was ordered to pay $1,300 a month in spousal support. Spector had the first payment delivered in nickels! I actually hope I get divorced one day so I can pull that same stunt.

But on February 3, 2003, the day after Paul McCartney announced that he was releasing a version of Let It Be that had removed all of Spector’s production, a woman is found dead in the producer’s castle, sending this control-freak with humorous anecdotes into O.J. territory.

Court TV has announced it will be broadcasting the trial when it begins at the end of April, so soon we'll all be able to watch the fall. Boy revolutionizes popular music, is hailed as genius and visionary, and then slowly hits bottom.

It’s the Hollywood Rise & Fall cliché all over again. And to an audience, that story never gets old. As much as we love our celebrities, we love it more when they fall. We love it more when those who have it all lose it all. We love it more when Britney goes crazy and when Nick Nolte looks crazed in a mug shot. It validates our feeling that the rich and famous aren’t happier or better, and it’s our chance to look down at those who are usually cast as superior.

We have an odd relationship with celebrities. We love them until we want them dead.

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A History Of Trash

Trash, at first, was a pretty cool guy. You know, he’d come over with some beers, and you’d hang out and have a couple of laughs. Maybe Trash brought some weed with him, and you guys tried to sync up Dark Side Of The Moon with The Wizard Of Oz until you remembered you lost your VHS copy of that movie sometime in college and that you fucking hate Pink Floyd. Good times were had, nonetheless.

But then, you don’t know what changed, but Trash started to overstay his welcome. He’d just linger for hours, never taking the hint you wanted him to leave, no matter how many times you yawned obnoxiously or mentioned how early you had to get up tomorrow. Trash just didn’t get it. You were getting older. You didn’t have the time anymore to stay up until 3 a.m. to talk about the Port season of “The Wire” or how much you miss Jawbox. Eventually, you just stopped taking Trash’s phone calls and no longer replied to his group e-mails about sneaking into abandoned mental hospitals.

Last time you saw Trash, he was smoking alone outside a local dive bar, looking down at his decaying and mismatched shoes. You hoped he had been doing well. You hoped he had not been hurt by the disintegration of your friendship. And if he had, you wanted to comfort him. You wanted to tell him that even though people move on with their lives, it doesn’t mean they stop caring. You wanted him to see in your eyes a sincere appreciation for the time you shared, because all the relationships in our lives help make us who we are, and even if you weren’t the best of friends anymore, you wanted him to know that there would always be a piece of Trash in your heart.

But instead, you looked away and crossed the street. You were with your new girlfriend, and you really didn’t want to have to explain Trash to her. She’d never understand.