In telling the story of how he convinced the powers that be at Rolling Stone to run with his long and loving interview with "the man, the myth, the middle aged Hebrew Hunk," he hints that Diamond's generous donation to RS publisher Jann Wenner's anti-gun charity in honor of John Lennon just might have tipped the scales in his favor.
The story of how the author was then able to bring his mom backstage into the icon's inner sanctum, and Diamond's class and graciousness when he did so, is a tribute to both the author and the artist.
Wild then goes on to tell the stories of how many similarly "critically challenged" artists — from Julio Iglesias to Billy Joel to even Paul McCartney — soon beat a path to the writers' door hoping for a similar break.
Despite Bill Murray's claim to the contrary, I've never really fallen into either the "for" and "against" category when it comes to Neil Diamond. I don't own any of his albums. And I probably stand with most of my fellow music scribes when I say albums like the soundtrack to Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and songs like "Heartlight" just don't turn my crank, and they didn't do him any favors.
But I do give Neil Diamond his rightful due as a great songwriter.
I own many versions of Diamond's songs as recorded by other artists, including the Monkees' "I'm A Believer" and Urge Overkill's version of "Girl You'll Be A Woman Soon" from the Pulp Fiction soundtrack. I also don't change the channel when "Cherry Cherry" or "Holly Holy" gets played on the local oldies station. They are damn good songs.
But there I go falling into that music writers trap of talking about myself again.
Damn you, David Wild!
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