Interview: Rick Massimo, Music Critic, Providence Journal

Even Barry Manilow has bad days.

On a rainy Wednesday night last week, Rick Massimo, pop music critic for The Providence Journal, spoke on his life and work to five Emerson College professional studies journalism students, which has included encounters with performers like Barry Manilow.

At first, the two did not hit it off.

"I called Barry Manilow a few years ago... and he was looking for a reason to hang up on me." Early in the interview, Massimo asked if the pop star had spoken with Bette Midler recently. That Midler and Manilow performed together in the 1970s is pop legend, but Massimo was unaware the two had recently collaborated on a Rosemary Clooney tribute CD.

According to Massimo, this irked Manilow and the star abruptly hung up saying, “Way to do your research.”

Instead of trashing him, Massimo wrote a straight-forward piece previewing Manilow's upcoming show.

Massimo continues, "A couple of years later, his (Manilow's) publicist asks me if I want to talk to him again." Knowing that his readers would want the story, Massimo agreed to the interview even though he dreaded it.

This time, it went better.

"The guy was lovely. He was fantastic. He was great. He even said, 'You know what, I've got a major announcement coming in a couple of weeks and I want to tell you first."

Massimo never got that call but the moral of the story to the student-journalists was do your homework and don't hold grudges. Your readers come first.

And one more thing, Manilow has a lot of fans. "People love the guy," said Massimo.

Born in Italy while his father, a Brown University professor, was there on sabbatical, Rick Massimo was raised in Providence where he still lives with his wife and 11 year-old son (he remarried last December).

After graduating from George Washington University with a degree in English, Massimo played the electric bass guitar in the Providence area. "I played in nightclubs, pit bands, and drag variety shows. Anything that paid." This gave him access to the wide variety of musical acts in the city and the distinct groups of people see them.

Massimo loves music and respects the making of it but not all of his fellow music critics seem to have that same regard. "I think playing music is an ennobling act but by no means do I think musicians are more noble than most people. I think this animates my writing. Some music writers don't feel this way."

Massimo passes on ripping easy targets like Manilow and Britney Spears.

As a former musician himself, Massimo experienced first-hand the late-nights in half-empty bar rooms with beer-sticky floors. He gives credit where it is due. "Everyone who gets out there deserves some credit for the generosity and hard, hard, work of performing."

But Massimo warned his student audience that respecting musicians and loving music is not enough for a pop music critic. Pushing back his youthful mane of black hair, Massimo, who will be 46 on October 17, said, "It's a writing job."

Would-be sports writers and pop music critics need to first enjoy the process of relating the experience of what they saw and heard to an audience of readers.

True, covering a concert is a little different than a fire because it has an aesthetic element that requires some subjectivity. The reviewer's artistic critique is secondary.

"The first thing you have to do is figure out what happened. What is the 'verb' of the event? Did (the musicians) play it safe or did they try new things?"

Massimo has written on other things besides music. He has a master's degree in playwriting from Brandeis University and is a resident artist at the Perishable Theatre in Providence, and is working on his 16th play, “Madame Bovary.” He is also working on a history of the Newport Folk Festival.

Close to the end of his second grueling hour of speaking, only Massimo's hair showed signs of fatigue as it now fell to the sides creating wings that threatened to take flight.

As if to underscore his point that the act of making music is worthy of his (and his student listeners’) respect, Massimo again brought up Barry Manilow. "He's not a pop musician anymore. He's an old pro. And I respect old pros.”

Though he is not immune to the glittery pull of the New York music scene, Massimo has no plans to head south.

Reached after his visit to Emerson, Massimo spoke about New York, “I said 15 years ago, that I would move to New York if anyone ever asked me to, but that I wouldn’t move there and wait tables hoping for a break."

In the meantime, Massimo works the pop music beat in his hometown and seems to be in no hurry to leave. He clearly loves Providence and respects its music scene.

"People really know music here in Rhode Island. I would not want to cover it anywhere else."

Photos: www.HistoryProject.org; Tommy Tish Collection.

Published May 28, 2010, in Timelines, newsletter of the History Project, an archive of Boston's GLBT history. History Defies Easy Conclusions: Gay bar photographs from the early 1970s by Mark T. Krone As a volunteer at The History Project, it's a privilege to sift through the treasures of the generous donors who let us into their lives. I can think of no other field where the axiom "the personal is political" is truer than GLBT history. By illuminating the struggles, triumphs, celebrations and ordinariness of everyday life, our donors come out to history. The tender care of The History Project ensures that these individuals and the artifacts of their lives will never be pushed back into the closet. The very existence of these artifacts--from bar matchbooks to political manifestos--is a loud reminder that we were and are everywhere. That Boston's GLBT history is often neglected does not make it fringe history; it is Boston's history. But it is the neglect of many mainstream historians that adds a feeling of urgency to the work I do. No matter how simple or mundane the work is, I always feel honored to do it. Recently, I was asked to sort through a collection of photographs from the late-1960s/early-1970s given to The History Project by Tommy Tish. The goal was to determine which photos belonged together. Whether they were taken on the same night? Were the same people in different photos? Did background interiors provide clues to location or time? Fortunately, many displayed the month and year they were developed on the photograph's white borders, a common practice at that time. The largest group of photos was taken at a bar on Halloween. That year, Halloween fell on a Friday, which no doubt added to the celebratory mood. By current standards, the bar would probably not pass muster. The walls were wood paneled in some areas, making it look like a 1950s rec room. Wallpaper covered other areas. Cool in its day, the wallpaper depicted road signs: STOP!, SLOW DOWN!, DEER CROSSING. There were no light shows, no monitors, and no DJs. In a nod to Halloween, a few orange and black balloons hang on the walls. A few men are in drag, which looks sophisticated and adds to the festive atmosphere. The drag seems to me somehow more earnest than comedic. A shirtless, hunky young man with a mustache sits at a table with a trophy in front of him, apparently a contest winner. The modest decorations and appointments of the bar suggest a simpler, more closeted bar scene. However, the open, exuberant sex depicted in some of the pictures portrayed a more libertine time, reminding me that history defies easy conclusions. Either way, the photos capture the warm, amber glow of a Boston bar on Halloween in the early 1970s, where a group of men enjoyed a night out.