Elektra Part 4: Freed

Dana Cooper, ca. 1974

I would rather bathe a cat than write this last chapter of the Elektra saga. I’ve procrastinated for weeks, weeding my yard, talking to the IRS, poking myself in the eye, anything to avoid writing about the demise of my record deal. Funny, it still bothers me.

Once the tour was over I retreated to sleepy Santa Barbara California where I shared an apartment in the hills with my girlfriend Mary Ann. While she worked on her Occupational Therapy internship at a local hospital I fidgeted around our little apartment and tried to figure out what had happened over the last year. Off the road I felt directionless. I wasn’t writing much. I had no gigs. Elektra was lukewarm about the prospects for my follow up album. Weeks slogged by before they issued a request that I demo some songs for their consideration. What could I do but comply?

Marlin Greene offered to produce. He scheduled a day for a demo session and I drove the two hours from Santa Barbara biting my nails all the way. It felt odd pulling into the parking lot for the first time. I never owned a car when I lived in Los Angeles. I always walked to the recording sessions. The four secretaries and one receptionist who sat at their desks surrounding the Spanish courtyard lobby always looked up from their work and gave me a friendly hello. Not today. Everyone’s eyes remained downcast as I passed through to Marlin’s office. Before I got there my presence was requested by the west coast treasurer. She proceeded to further question me about the long distance phone call confusion. Even though I assured her I had already made arrangements to settle the bill with the phone company she lambasted me for being a troublemaker.
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