‘Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of Our Lives’ Feels Like A Never-Ending Highlight Reel

I set up an interview for AC/DC once, and the band requested a tea service. When singer Brian Johnson arrived, I showed him everything we got for them, feeling rather proud of myself. “Here’s your coffee, hot water, an assortment of teas; Earl Grey, Chamomile, milk, sugar…” Johnson turned to me and in his thick Geordie accent said, “Oi, stop braggin’,” and gave me a wink. I kind of felt like saying the same thing after watching the 2-hour career highlight reel which is the documentary, Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of Our Lives.

Originally produced by Apple Music and currently streaming on Netflix, the film presents the career achievements of legendary record executive Clive Davis in chronological order, a never-ending laundry list of one hit record after another, accumulated during his run of nearly 50 years in the music business. Admittedly, they are incredible achievements, as Davis has worked with everyone (and I quote) “from Kenny G to the Notorious B.I.G.”

Music wasn’t a passion for Davis as a boy, growing up in a middle class Jewish family in Brooklyn. His mother died when he was a sophomore at NYU, and his father passed away a year later, leaving him an “orphan” while still in his teens. The event was shattering for Davis and according to friends, the motivation for his unceasing work ethic, which includes still running a multi-million dollar record company even though he’s well into his eighties.

After graduating from Harvard Law School, a chance phone call resulted in him getting a job as a lawyer at CBS/Columbia Records. “I knew nothing about music,” Davis admits. Speaking to the hubris with which record companies are run, despite his self-proclaimed ignorance he was made general manager a few short years later. Fortunately, he had good ears and a keen sense of what makes a hit record a hit.

Though a straight-laced New York record exec, Davis’ lid was flipped by a 1967 visit to the Monterey Pop Festival where he saw the potential for big bucks in the emerging rock counter-culture. He started signing up sonically and spiritually adventurous bands, such as Big Brother & The Holding Company featuring Janis Joplin, Chicago and Santana. Davis claims Joplin wanted to sleep with him but he declined her offer, not wanting to mix “business with pleasure.” It is the only salacious detail shared in a biopic that could have used a little more flesh and blood. Even his later discussion of his own bisexuality is presented as a bullet point in his endless list of life events.

To his credit, Davis enjoyed cultivating a diverse roster; working with jazz great Miles Davis, singer-songwriters Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel, hard rockers Aerosmith, soft rocker Barry Manilow and funded R&B label Philadelphia International Records. Artists line up to sing his praises and his ability to pick hit songs for them despite their protestations or push them to anchor their albums with a hit single. Also impressive is his habit of resurrecting the careers of legacy artists for new generations, as in the cases of Dionne Warwick, Carlos Santana and Rod Stewart.

The good times weren’t without their hiccups, though. In 1973, his name was dragged into a fraud scheme involving another record executive which included allegations of payola. CBS fired him as a sacrificial lamb though a thorough investigation completely exonerated him, according to the film. He subsequently started Arista Records, and the hits never stopped coming. The label’s corporate owners forced him out in 1999 for being too old and costing too much but after widespread industry outcry he was brought back to oversee all their music holdings.

The great tragedy of Davis’ life, according to the film, is the rise and fall of singer Whitney Houston. Davis signed her as a teenager and spent years putting the pieces in place for her eventual crossover breakthrough. He seemed ill-equipped, however, to deal with her substance abuse issues, admonishing her for smoking cigarettes when she was doing far worse. She died in 2012, on the eve of Davis’ famed pre-Grammys party, but despite his heartbreak, he decided not to cancel the party because “the show must go on.”

While there’s no doubt Davis’s list of achievements are incredible, after two hours I was sick of hearing about them. The overall effect was like the kind of tribute videos you see at your grandfather’s 75th birthday party, Hell, I was half expecting it to end with personal messages from the parade of stars he worked with, saying, “We love you Clive! Thanks for yadda yadda yadda…” And for all those myriad details, spanning eight decades, encompassing more hit records than you count, I’m not sure Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of Our Lives gives you a sense of who he really is.

Benjamin H. Smith is a New York based writer, producer and musician. Follow him on Twitter:@BHSmithNYC.

Stream Clive Davis: The Soundtrack of Our Lives on Netflix