Allee

In the spirit of The World According To Allee Willis the new documentary about the insanely creative, unconditionally loving, outrageous, hilarious, and eternally optimistic late great Allee Willis, I thought I’d share a personal Allee story with you. If you knew her you have one. I take this from my 2016 GRAMMY nominated memoir Confessions Of A Serial Songwriter. Allee had a profound effect on peoples’ lives. She will never be forgotten.

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I love my life and what I do. I wake up every day and write a song. It’s like having a meal or taking a shower, or drinking water. But some time during the summer of 2013 it hit me: Is there still room for me? If there is, do I even want to be here? If I don’t want to be here, where should I go?

Now that I have grown up to be someone, can I become someone else?

Every time I heard Coldplay singing, “I’m in the gap between the two trapezes,” from their song “Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall,” my 14-year-old daughter Layla squeezed my hand so I wouldn’t cry. That made me cry more.

It’s too late for a mid-life crisis. Maybe I should have had one and gotten it over with.

For the first time in my life I considered asking my doctor for a prescription of Zoloft.

I spoke to friends who were compassionate and loving. Some tried to encourage me by telling me my ennui would pass, or that the pendulum would swing. Others said, maybe it was time to get out of the music business...all honest heartfelt responses. They made me feel a little better simply by listening.

Many years ago, before anybody knew my name, I was fixed up to write with Allee (“Boogie Wonderland”) Willis. Allee was the poster child for unconventional—famous for thinking outside the box. With her asymmetric shaggy hair and colorful baggy suits, she was the self-proclaimed Queen of Kitsch. Outside her bright pink house were bowling balls and gravel beds. Inside were collections of odd dolls, lunch boxes, Elvis statues, avant-garde art, vintage salt-and-pepper shakers and Grammys for huge hit records. Unfortunately, the songs we wrote together were forgettable (she wouldn’t disagree). It wasn’t until decades later that I would see why Allee was part of my journey.

Over the years I’d spot Allee across the room at an awards dinner. You couldn’t miss her. More recently I saw her at a mutual friend’s birthday party. I was fairly sure she had no recollection of who I was, so I decided to find out. Not only did she remember me, she remembered the names of our forgettable songs. She asked if I wanted to have coffee or dinner some time. I took it as sign that the Universe wanted us to reconnect.

I was in the middle of my ongoing funk the day we were to convene. I didn’t think I’d be good company, but I didn’t want to disappoint the Universe. So I went. I knew I couldn’t fake being cheerful, so I told Allee what I was going through, about being in The Gap between the two trapezes. And without hesitation, Allee said:

“The Gap? That’s the best place to be. You are the most fertile when you don’t know where the hell you are, or where you’re going. Anything can happen.” She seemed quite certain. Defiant even. What an encouraging perspective...one that wasn’t an option from a multiple-choice list of things to say to a heavy-hearted pal.

Allee recommended I read a book called The Places That Scare You. She said the author, Pema Chödrön, suggests we try to get comfortable in that place of least comfort...If we’re having a hard time don’t try to push it away... have no expectation. It sounded like Pema Chödrön was talking about The Gap between the two trapezes! I had walked into the restaurant that evening cheerless and dejected, but I left skipping to my car.

A few weeks later, I went to Allee’s one-night-only, one-woman show, which was to encompass all aspects of her life story: her childhood, growing up in Detroit, her work, her play, her hits, her hair. The stage was full of colorful kitschy props: plastic palm trees, rubber furniture, party favors. A few production assistants buzzed about. Front and center was a projector, a large screen (which I imagined was for displaying song lyrics, photos and videos) and a podium for Allee to lead the way. Downstage left was her tech guy with a laptop who would trigger audio-visuals upon Allee’s cues.

When the show started, everything that could have gone wrong, did. First, a video wouldn’t load properly. Then, when Allee signaled for a song lyric to be projected, her personal iPhoto album popped up instead. She and tech guy held up a poster board to block the screen, which then started wobbling on the verge of collapse. It was a complete technological fiasco. Nothing went as planned in front of an audience of hundreds of Hollywood heavies. If that had been me, I would have passed out on the podium. But Allee talked her way through it. It certainly wasn’t visually dazzling and I can’t say that the audience wasn’t feeling uneasy, but the show went on and we went on with her.

The very next day I had a meeting with Jay Landers at Universal Records. I go back with Jay. In 1992, he asked Albert Hammond (Sr.) if he would write with me and Albert said, “Yes.” I was grateful.

Jay asked me if I’d be interested in writing a song for Barbra Streisand. “It should be Donna Summer, ‘She Works Hard for the Money,’ meets Beyoncé, ‘Crazy in Love.’” He envisioned a duet between Barbra and Beyoncé. (I knew Jay had a longstanding relationship with Barbra. I wasn’t sure how he was going to swing Beyoncé.) Regardless, as much as I would have loved to try to write that song, I didn’t think I was the girl for the job. (Besides, I knew what a long shot it was, if there was even a shot at all.) Jay needed someone far more outside the box than I venture. Someone who can fly by the seat of her...baggy pants. I knew who that was, of course: Allee Willis. Jay agreed. I was off the hook. Then, Jay asked if I would write it with her.

The next week I was back at Allee’s after twenty years. Same bowling balls. Same pink house, fish bowls filled with M&Ms and jellybeans. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this was the something that was going to happen in The Gap. We were going to write a big fat hit for Barbra and Beyoncé. That would be worth me having lost my compass for a while.

I asked Allee if she had recovered from the train wreck of that show. (I didn’t use those exact words.) I thought she was going to say she was refunding every ticket buyer’s money. Instead, she said, “Are you kidding? I’m working on my next show.” The glass doesn’t get more half full than that.

We attempted to write an EDM (electronic dance music) song without a backing track to fluff us. We called it “Misunderestimated.” (That’s not a word, but it should be a word.) We snapped our fingers and sang acapella into our iPhones, and with a couple of taps and swipes forwarded it to Jay to show Barbra.

He loved it. Naturally, there were a few tweaks, and then a few more tweaks. A few more voice memos—and then—there was no word for about four months. Although Jay had warned us it could take a while, we knew no news for that long was not good news. Finally, I received an email from him explaining that the project had changed direction and Barbra was leaning towards an all-male duet album...“therefore your song with AW doesn’t fit.” AW? Is she a root beer now? He expressed his appreciation and I know he was sincere. (I still love that song title, and I hope to use it again someday.)

Meanwhile, I got a hold of Pema Chödrön’s book that Allee recommended. The passage that spoke to me the loudest was: “We can try to control the uncontrollable by looking for security and predictability, always hoping to be comfortable and safe. But the truth is we can never avoid uncertainty. This not knowing is part of the adventure, and it’s also what makes us afraid.”

I’d like to say I’ve had a great epiphany, taken a quantum leap. I’d like to say a sign appeared with fireworks and fanfare to let me know a seismic change was about to take place. It’s been nothing like that.

Here’s what did happen: I got comfortable in The Gap. Now I wake up every morning and practice being brave. By no means am I giving up writing songs. I’ve just stopped working with collaborators whose processes and attitudes are not harmonious with mine. If I have writer’s block, I make soup. I know I’m in a good place because I haven’t the need for as much retail therapy. If I’m anxious and can’t sleep, I remind myself it’s always better in the morning.

The Universe is conspiring with me to make something happen, as it has been all along. I just don’t know what it is yet. I’m in The Gap. I’m not supposed to know.

What I do know is that when I picked up where I left off writing these stories, I started walking with a spring in my step. It’s like I have a little secret. I don’t want the Zoloft anymore. I’m right where I’m supposed to be thanks to Allee—in pursuit—feeling hopeful. And very fertile.

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Please feel free to share your Allee Willis story and make sure to watch this fantastic uplifting inspiring documentary.

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