P.F. Sloan
Twelve More Times

What a nasty beast, marketing, with all its ins and outs: market segmentation and the SWOT matrix, the marketing mix, and break-even point analysis. All this rigmarole just to prove that you can't sell what you want to produce but you have to produce what you can sell.

And it's also quite nasty to work in the sector, like those bigwigs at Dunhill who, armed with abundant doses of loving patience, sit down with Philip and try to broaden his narrow views and instill in him that simple, banal truth: you can't sell what you want to produce but you have to produce what you can sell.

But what does Philip understand about marketing?

Philip, who for his thirteenth birthday receives as a gift from mom and dad "his" acoustic guitar, and his sister writes the card that accompanies it and makes a big deal of writing "Mom and dad" in her own hand before imprinting her name, closing the card in a maroon envelope bought especially for the occasion, and secretly tucking it into the largest pocket of the guitar case.

Only that's not really how the story went.

Philip already knows that the birthday gift is "his" guitar, he knows because he chose it himself: for weeks, coming home from school, he stands enchanted in front of that shop window to dreamily admire "his" guitar, and every night, before falling asleep, he wishes that no one will buy it before his birthday, because that and only that must be "his" guitar.

The courage to reveal his wish to mom and dad comes only a few days before the fateful date, because back then it didn't work like now, when kids start pestering you on All Saints' Day for Christmas, and more than once you wonder if it's worth it to be a loving and caring parent.

Back then, anno domini 1958, you truly experienced the gift.

Well, in truth, the story did go like this, but paradoxically the sequel seems much more implausible than the story I've dramatized and fed to you.

Because when on Thursday, September 18, 1958, papa Schlein takes Philip to that store, while Philip picks up "his" guitar for the first time to try "how it sounds," right at that moment, right in that store, the King walks in.

Who is the King, yes, but after all, he's only 23 years old and still not used to seeing two men and half a child with their chins on the floor and unable to utter a word, not even a greeting.

So it's he who takes the initiative and, to break the ice, addresses Philip, something like "Hey little man, if you lend me your 'guitar,' I'll show you how it's played." Imagine if any of those with their chins on the floor have anything to object, so the King tries out Philip's guitar, plays and sings something, returns the guitar to that half child, pats him on the head as a greeting, buys what he needs, pays, says goodbye to papa Schlein and the clerk, and leaves.

They're still so shaken with their chins on the ground that papa Schlein and Philip exit the store as if nothing happened; then, after two blocks, Philip realizes he doesn't have his gift slung over his shoulder, so they turn back to the store; papa and the clerk insistently invite Philip to try "his" guitar again, maybe someone else might come into the store, but this time nothing; so papa Schlein pays, Philip, jubilant, straps on the guitar, and they return home; after a couple of hours, the clerk turns off the lights, lowers the shutters, and rushes home to excitedly tell his wife who walked into the store today, the wife gives him a strange look and discreetly hides the gin bottle; even mama Schlein, after dinner, without making it obvious, hides the whiskey bottle because her husband has been raving for hours about the King and some imaginary pelvic movements and Philip, asked to confirm, doesn't even know what papa is babbling about; he has his guitar in his room, standing between his and his sister's bed, and that will be his life, his world, he feels it.

Philip is a smart kid, he has artistic talent, loves writing a lot, and dreams that one day those densely written notebook pages will come to life, animated by music. For this reason, he wanted with all his heart for mom and dad to gift him "his" guitar, to animate the pages of his notebooks.

Philip doesn't know how to play, but he applies himself with such dedication and makes such progress that after a year, when he is only fourteen, the marketing man from a Los Angeles record company, Aladdin, calls the Schlein house, something like "Mr. Schlein, we've listened to the tape your son sent us, we like it, why don't you come over here?"

It happened just like that, except in the meantime papa Schlein decided to change the last name to Sloan because Schlein sounds too Jewish and it might happen that someone won't grant you the licenses you need to work and support your family.

Philip Schlein becomes Philip Sloan, but he, a fourteen-year-old adolescent, doesn't think much about the socio-political implications of Philip Schlein becoming Philip Sloan. He cannot wait for that visit to Aladdin and for that round piece of vinyl he will soon hold in his hands.

Oh, that piece of vinyl, I think only Philip and his family, his closest relatives, and friends held it in their hands, since a few days later Aladdin closes down, so little Philip Sloan's discographic debut remains an event for the few.

But fortunately, Philip does not lose heart; otherwise, there would be no story to tell.

In the meantime, he has met Steve - Steve Barri - and together with him, he tries to make a breakthrough; the two change their company more quickly than their underwear but achieve nothing; the single that dominates the charts does not come.

But not quite nothing, at least they get noticed, like by Lou Adler, who is rather a big shot – the manager of Jan and Dean – who hires them as musicians and backup singers; so on the record covers that the dynamic surfing duo records between 1964 and 1965, if you read closely in the credits, there are also the names of Philip and Steve.

Jan and Dean are famous, almost as much as the Beach Boys, and consequently, Adler has stacks of dollars, so much that they come out of his ears, and not knowing how to invest them, he sets up a record company, the Dunhill company from the beginning; he hires quite a few bigwigs to take care of marketing and explain to those who need it how things work – the old story that you can't sell what you want to produce, but you have to produce what you can sell; he also takes along Philip and Steve, because they are two boys who know what they're doing, maybe they don't understand much about marketing, but with words and notes, they're talented.

Especially Philip, who quickly realizes that this is the great opportunity and starts writing off the cuff: "You Baby" and "Let Me Be" are the hits commissioned for the Turtles, "A Must To Avoid" and "Hold On" for the Herman's Hermits, "Take Me For What I'm Worth" for the Searchers, not to mention "Secret Agent Man" for Johnny Rivers, which also becomes the main theme of the British television series "Danger Man" in the U.S. edition.

Personally, Philip only brushes success, along with Steve.

In those days, the two call themselves The Grass Roots and, after the decent acknowledgment and favor met by "Mister Jones" - a general rehearsal consisting of an innocuous reworking of "Ballad Of A Thin Man" - the two pull out the little single "Where Were You When I Needed You" which peeks into the Billboard Top 30.

It could be the springboard to glory, but it's the beginning of the end.

Third to Last Act

Dunhill pressures the duo to become a proper band and record an LP that sounds so and so.

It is done as Dunhill wants, but things don't go as they were supposed to.

Second to Last Act

Philip and Steve are in a bad mood due to Dunhill's pressures and also for the album's flop, so they decide by mutual agreement to exit from The Grass Roots, which evolves into The Grass Roots two-point-zero, if only at that time anyone knew what that devilish formula meant.

It only means that Philip and Steve return in the shadows, composing words and music for the new The Grass Roots, and it works great: the reworking of "Let's Live For Today" by the Rokes climbs the U.S. Top 10.

This is the decisive step towards the end.

Last Act

Those in The Grass Roots want to emancipate themselves from Philip and Steve.

Philip wants what he has always dreamed of, he wants to write "his" songs, he wants to sell "his" records, as Philip Sloan.

The first inevitable divergences occur, the disagreements with Steve and the Dunhill bigwigs.

"We were two Jewish boys, we played together, we loved the same movies. But the first success changed him, and I understood immediately that he would never be the same. But he's very talented, God, he's good," Steve says during those days.

"I wish to be loved, I wish to be like Elvis," Elvis who, a few years ago, took his "guitar" and showed him how it's done; thus speaks Philip during those days.

Despite everything, Philip and Steve overcome misunderstandings and move forward; conversely, Philip and Dunhill's paths will soon diverge.

It's 1965.

Philip publishes his first solo record, "Songs Of Our Times," very beautiful, but it doesn't sell at all.

Of course, the marketing bigwigs called to report to Adler justify; we told him he can't sell what he wants to produce, but he must produce what he can sell, but he didn't listen and wanted to do it his way, and these are the results.

Adler decides to give Philip a second chance, "But this time it's done our way!", with an exclamation point, the record must sound like this and that, and those from marketing nod convincingly.

It's 1966.

Philip releases his second record, "Twelve More Times", even more beautiful than the debut, thanks to "The Man Behind The Red Balloon" and "When The Wind Changes," two absolute songs.

The record mixes folk, rock, and pop as Philip wishes, not as Dunhill demands, so the record sells nothing.

Adler calls in the marketing bigwigs; the marketing bigwigs exonerate themselves as usual; Adler resolves to fire Philip.

But it's Philip who fired Dunhill, he knows for months how it will end, and he leaves on his own path just hours after the record hits the stores.

Philip wants to sell records, not sell himself, but these details are not on the curriculum in marketing courses.

If Philip had attended a marketing course, he would have learned that signing his works as P.F. Sloan doesn't work, especially if the 'F' stands for "flip," that ridiculous nickname his little sister gave him years ago.

But "Flip" still believes he is the thirteen-year-old holding the "guitar" between his and his sister's bed, and that this is the path to success.

"Flip" is still convinced of doing it his way, so "Twelve More Times" sounds all his own, exclusively his, and the echoes of Dylan, Byrds, Beau Brummels, and Leaves are just echoes.

If history were made of "buts" and "ifs," then "Flip" would have obtained the recognition he deserves.

If he had the cheekiness of Elvis, but not even dreaming, he only has a glimmer of his gaze, on the back cover.

If he had Bob Dylan's visions, he would have written "Ballad Of A Thin Man," not "When The Wind Changes"; he tells simple and linear stories, plain, he doesn’t foretell the world to come through arcane symbols; and then the title would have been "Blonde On Blonde," he would have let his hair grow disheveled and worn a trendy suede jacket and scarf.

If he were Jimmy Webb, surely "P.F. Sloan" wouldn't have been written, or perhaps it would have been written but not recorded, or perhaps he would have even recorded it but with so much implied self-irony that he doesn't lack.

Then, acknowledging that you can't navigate reality with "buts" and "ifs," after another couple of decent albums that also sell nothing, "Flip" retreats to private life, except for a couple of occasional appearances – in the nineties and a decade ago.

The reprise of "P.F. Sloan" by the young singer-songwriter Rumer in 2012 is the last signal captured.

Then I heard nothing more about him, at least I did not.

Until a few months ago, when I discovered by chance about his death, last year around this time, and I wondered if he had been Barry McGuire maybe "Eve Of Destruction" would have been recorded under his own name, and then the story would have gone differently.