Hell hath no fury like a manager scorned

May 21st – There’s threads that run through all businesses; some more than others. Take the music business. I figure, on the performer side, that in any endeavour where the article being sold is the person, you, and your talent is up for grabs and comment then you’re going to suffer some degree of paranoia, selfishness, insecurity and recklessness in equal measure. If, on the other hand, you’re part of the management side of this deal it’s not unfair to sat that there will be a fair measure of slight-of-hand, bullying, greed and a regular use of underhand tactics but to be fair, not all of these acts of kindness are perpetrated against the performer. Managers and agents are, after all, dealing with club owners and drinking-den promoters, many of them riding the ragged edge of law-breaking. With their daily struggles against the gales created by rivals trying to sink them the active the non-payment of a band’s fees is a breeze barely noticed by such entrepreneurs. We’re all aware of how musicians, writers and performers being cheated out of what is justifiably theirs by unscrupulous folk working in the biz, supposedly working for them, but this is the industry for which the term dog-eat-dog was coined.

It’s much like the recent information that’s become known concerning women in the U.S. armed forces. The incidences of sexual harassment and, unfortunately, rape that women in the various branches of the military have had to undergo is only put to shame by the number of women who've felt unable to take the matter to their superiors for fear of; 1) Having to undergo even worse treatment from their regimental comrades when their disloyalty to the badge of honour that is the regiment leaks out.

2) Knowing they'll be signing their own death warrant as far as promotion goes if their predicament is disclosed to a superior officer.

3) The knowledge that their superior officer will, in many, many, many cases tell them to keep shtum because things will look bad for them (their superior officer) if it becomes known that this sort of behaviour has taken place on their watch.

Good ‘ere, innit? It’s also highly likely that this sort of behaviour has taken place in the British regiments but, as with the Yanks, they close ranks to protect their own – read the information about the events at Deep Cut Barracks then tell me it aint so. 

You stick your head above the parapet at your own risk. We see this in so many walks of life and we've all been made aware (unless you’re from the ranks of the chosen ones that is) that our success or failure in some position or other is in the gift or denial of another staff member and depends to a large extent on just how you treat them. It’s certainly what Fontella Bass found out when she asked for fair treatment.

Never mind that on this day in 2000 she was inducted into the St Louis Walk of Fame. All her ability, talent and truth counted for nowt when the credits for the writing of her million-seller single, Rescue Me were decided upon. As co-writer she should have benefitted from the royalties accrued by that song and its uses. Did she? Well, whaddya think?

In 1965 the single was released, sold in millions and reached gold status. It took Ms. Bass until 1993 (so, just 28 years; not long then) for her to gain what was rightfully hers. All good then? Well, not quite. You see, Ms. Fontella Bass asked for what was rightfully hers without due servility, without due humility, without bended knee and smile. Work dried up, offers stopped arriving, career doors slammed. She was branded a trouble maker and made to suffer because of her ungrateful temerity. And on that note about the milk of human kindness we all skip off into the distance whistling, “I wanna be a rock ‘n’ roll star.”