Elektra Records

História do Rock bastante conhecida e comentada em documentários, contida no encarte do relançamento em cd (1988) de “The Stooges” (1969) por um de seus personagens, Danny Fields, jornalista:

“In the summer of 1968, I was running the publicity department of Elektra Records, a classy little label that had exploded into the big time a year before with the success of the Doors, and was expanding its rock roster with a bunch of adventurous new prospects.

The Detroit-Ann Arbor area at that time was hot with talent, and distant enough geographically and culturally from England and California to shield it from the pretentiousness that had seeped into the music of both places since the ‘Golden Year’ of 1966. Most visible of the Michigan bands was the MC5, the only group in the world that had gone to Chicago to play at the festivities held in conjunction with the Democratic convention which gave us the presidency of Richard Nixon. The MC5 were looking for a record contract, and on the weekend of September 22, I flew to Detroit to meet them and their brilliant manager, John Sinclair, and to see them play at the Grande Ballroom.

My job at Elektra was not to sign new bands, but to publicize artists already under contract, but things were much looser then, and at the moment, I had the ear of the man who invented Elektra, Jac Holzman, so anything was possible. Anyhow, I loved the MC5 – they were fast, loud, colorful and all-American – and I loved their manager. Back at their commune on Ann Arbor’s fraternity row the day after the Grande show, I was busy telling them how much I loved them when guitarist Wayne Kramer said, ‘If you like us, you should check out the Stooges, they’re sort of our little brother band, and they’re playing tonight’. Somehow, Wayne knew that no matter how turned on I seemed to be by the good-time high-energy and Utopían politics of the MC5, in my heart I was looking for something more primitive, true pandemonium. He steered me right – that night I saw the Stooges perform at the University of Michigan Student Union, and it changed my life.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and hearing, a cliche I know, but real for me on that first night of autumn in 1968. I had never seen a performer as incredible as Iggy (that’s true to this day), and about the music, I could only say, ‘At last!’ When Iggy came off the stage, I went over to him, gushing about the show, telling him I was from Elektra Records and was eager to get them a contract. ‘Speak to my manager’, he said, still walking toward the dressing room, not even looking at me. His abruptness was not generated by his getting so many such offers that he was jaded, but by his disbelief – he’d never had any, and didn’t think it possible that I was for real. ‘Yeah, sure, you’re from Elektra Records’, he said to himself (as he told me later). ‘And I’m Mr. Ed’.

I did speak to his manager, Jimmy Silverman, who was in partnership with John Sinclair, and the next morning I phoned Jac Holzman from Ann Arbor and told him I’d done a handshake signing with not one but two bands, both of which, I assured him, would make history, and lots of money besides. But I had to offer them some ‘hello money’, and needs Jac’s guidance on that matter. The MC5 was signed for $20,000, and the Stooges for $5000 – it was more money by far than either band had ever seen.

What happened to the MC5 is another very long story. What happened to the Stooges is that they went into the studio with John Cale and came up with the album you’re now holding. Commercially, it was a curiosity, but it has influenced a generation of musicians and listerners beyond measure, and twenty years later is still twenty years ahead of its time. In truth, it’s more amazing than ever“.