Made
in India by Biddu
As
a child, Biddu dreamt of going west and making it big as a composer. At the age
of sixteen, he formed a band and started playing in a cafe in Bangalore, his
home town, At eighteen, he was part of a popular act at Trinca's, a nightclub
in Calcutta devoted to food, wine and music, At nineteen, he had college
students in Bombay dancing to his music.
In
his early twenties, he left the country and ended up hitchhiking across the
Middle East before arriving in London with only the clothes on his back and his
trusty guitar. What followed were years of hardship and struggle but also great
music and gathering fame. From the nine million selling "Kung Fu
Fighting" to the iconic youth anthem of "Made in India" and the
numerous hits in between. Biddu's music made him a household name in India and
elsewhere.
In
this first public account of all that came his way: the people, the events, the
music tours and companies Biddu writes with a gripping sense of humor about his
remarkable journey with its fairy tale ending. Charming, witty, and entirely
likable, Biddu is a man you are going to enjoy getting to know.
Excerpt
I now had it all: a head full of hair, a lovely blonde
girlfriend and a number
one record. The only thing
missing from this equation was money.
Since leaving my job at the restaurant the previous month, I was living
on my meagre savings. It’s uncanny how money slips
away when you most need
it and soon, I was down to my last five
pounds. The rent
was due every
week and since I ate on a daily basis, there were food bills to pay plus other expenses that cropped up like unwelcome relatives. Luckily, this hit record would
save me the embarrassment of penury. I had been through
this cycle before
and finally I could feel
myself breaking free from the tentacles of indigence.
I was down to my last
two pounds with my back against the wall, if not going through it, when I
decided to go and see the record company about an advance on the record. I
caught a bus to Oxford Street and wormed my way through the crowds of shoppers
till I got to the office. I managed to see Roland Rennie, the gentleman who
originally asked me to produce the record. He told me I would have to go see
the managing director, Jeffrey Black, who was the head honcho at Polydor
Records at that time, regarding monies and royalties. So I went across to Mr
Black’s office and requested his secretary for a quick meeting. Ten minutes
later, I was in Jeffrey Black’s expansive office.
He sat behind his
desk and did not get up to greet me.
‘Yes?’ he said,
looking up. Apart from a George Michael-like growth on his face, he looked a
regular sort of guy. ‘How can I help?’
I told him I had
produced the Tiger’s record, which had gone to number one in Japan, and showed
him my copy of Billboard.
‘I’ve seen it,’ he
said, not bothering to look at the magazine.
I also had with me a
copy of the record, which credited my name as ‘producer’ on both the sleeve and
disc.
‘I would like an
advance of £100 against future royalties,’ I said in my best cut-glass accent.
‘All right,’ Jeffrey
Black said, leaning back in his chair. ‘Can I see a copy of your contract?’
‘Contract,’ I exclaimed.
A feeling of déjà vu set in, reminding me about the time when I was asked for a
P45.
‘Yes, your producer’s
agreement with us,’ he replied. ‘Have you got it?’
‘I’m afraid no one
offered me a contract,’ I stuttered, meekly. ‘I don’t have one.’
‘If you don’t have a
contract, I’m afraid I cannot give you an advance.’
There was a prolonged
silence while my heart sank and then journeyed up to my throat.
‘Can I have fifty
pounds?’ I gulped. It was all I could think of. ‘Listen, if you don’t have a
contract, I cannot advance you any money. It’s as simple as that. I need proof.
I’m sorry.’
It may have been simple,
but this simpleton had not the brains, or even a replica of it, to ask for
a contract when
he made the record. Since none
was offered at the time,
the idea of a written agreement had not occurred
to me.
I thrust the disc in front of him.
‘Here’s my name
on it,’ I argued. ‘That’s
proof isn’t it?’
He shook his head. ‘Listen, without a contract
I cannot
authorize a payment.’
‘Can I have ten pounds, please?’ I said, not wishing to sound desperate.
‘I cannot,’ he replied stubbornly.
‘Can I have five?’
A clear sign
I was desperate but frankly
I didn’t care if he knew.
Of the two
pounds I had when I’d
left home, I’d already
spent 50p on a Mars
bar and the bus ticket.
If there’s a word
that’s more befitting than desperate, I was it.
He finally
picked up the phone on his desk
and spoke to his secretary outside.
A spray of relief spread
across my face.
Maybe there is a God
after all, I thought to myself.
‘Daphne,’ he said ‘change
that booking for dinner from
8.30 to 9 p.m.’
He put the phone down and told
me one last time he could not give
me any money.
About
the Author
Biddu
was born in India, where he started his career playing in a pop band whose
influences lay in the classic repertoire of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.
Following his early success, he decided to hear West and move into the
international music arena. He struck gold, signing the unknown Carl Douglas and
producing "Kung Fu Fighting?" which went on to become a hit all over
the world. He also wrote and produced hits for Tina Charles and soul legend
Jimmy James.
Around
this time, Biddu became involved in Indian music: he composed the cult
"Aap Jaise Koi" for the film Qurbani which set a new landmark for
sales in India He followed this up with a pop album, Disco Deewane, with Nazia
Hassan, which became the largest selling pop album in Asian history, and was
the first Indian album to hit the charts in fourteen countries. In 1995, Biddu
wrote and produced the three-million-selling album Made in India with the
singer Alisha Chinai. To date, Biddu has sold over thirty-eight million records
worldwide.
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