Dick Bright, onetime ‘maestro of the San Francisco music scene,’ advises the next generation of musicians in new book

In his new book, "Workin’ for a Livin’: Makin’ it in the Music Business," Marin music personality Dick Bright describes himself as "one of the luckiest entertainers on the planet."

"I have never had a hit record, a TV show, a starring role in a movie or play, yet I have been flown around the world, performed for hundreds of thousands of people and have worked with some of the biggest names in the history of show business," he writes in his first chapter, adding that he's been a professional musician for the past 50 years without ever having to take a day job to make ends meet.

You can't have that kind of sustained work-a-day success in a notoriously tough business without learning a few lessons along the way. During the forced idleness of the pandemic, the 70-year-old violinist and bandleader used that downtime to put some of that hard-earned wisdom — as well as the expertise of some of his colleagues — between the pages of a book that might help the next generation of musicians avoid making the same mistakes he did.

He’ll sign books at Sweetwater Music Hall in Mill Valley during the city's First Tuesday Art Walk from 5:30 to 7:30 p.m. June 6. He’ll also host an all-star book release concert at Sweetwater at noon June 11, featuring a Q&A with rock journalist Joel Selvin and performances by Bud E. Luv, Little Roger, Lilan Kane, Chris Rowan, the Rubinoos and comedians Bruce "Babyman" Baum and Bob Sarlatte.

"This is a pay-it-forward book," Bright says over a cup of strong morning coffee at his hillside home in Greenbrae, where he's lived for the better part of three decades. "I want to save a lot of young musicians all the grief I went through — do as I say, not as I did."

In 17 chapters, he covers everything from starting a band, stage technology and handling money to marketing and promotion, arranging a dance set and even dealing with stage fright.

He intersperses the narrative with interviews with professionals in different aspects of the business, including a classical violinist, a publicist, a sound technician, a vocal coach, a nightclub manager, a composer and arranger, and an agent. He throws in war stories from fellow musicians as well as some dad-like musician jokes, to wit: "What do you call a guitar player without a girlfriend? Answer: Homeless."

He dedicates the book to his father, a clarinet, saxophone and flute player who taught music at a junior high school in West Los Angeles for 45 years, spent weeknights with a roster of private music students and played gigs on the weekends.

"He was a great guy, but he wasn't around a lot," Bright says. "Did we play ball a lot and do father-son things? No, but I certainly got my work ethic from him."

Groomed for classics

Growing up in affluent Brentwood, young Dick picked up the violin for the simple reason that an old violin his aunt gave his dad was gathering dust and his older brother was already playing the piano.

"I was being groomed for the L.A . Philharmonic," he recalls. "My idea of rock was the Tijuana Brass and the Carpenters. I wore out the grooves on Richard Harris singing ‘MacArthur Park.’"

After high school, he studied music and theater at the University of California at Davis, where his real musical education began off campus.

"My college roommate turned me on to sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll," he remembers. "And my classical career was over."

After graduation, he formed Little Roger and the Goosebumps with college friend Roger Clark. The band, featuring Clark's witty, sardonic originals, gained national notoriety with its 1978 single "Gilligan's Island (Stairway)," a mashup of the lyrics of the TV sitcom "Gilligan's Island" with the music of Led Zeppelin's classic "Stairway to Heaven."

When Led Zeppelin threatened to sue over copyright infringement, the Goosebumps withdrew the record. Bright was nonplussed when, during a 2004 interview on National Public Radio, Led Zeppelin lead singer Robert Plant said it was his favorite cover of "Stairway."

With Bright taking on the goofball persona of the balding, bespectacled leader of a band called the Sounds of Delight, the Goosebumps became a local phenomenon with a long-running parody of Johnny Carson's "The Tonight Show" at the Boarding House, a storied San Francisco nightclub.

At the end of each show, Bright would auction off a cream pie that the winning bidder would get to smash in his face.

"They would pie me and I’d sing ‘My Way’ with pie dripping down my face," he says and smiles. "It was great. I could make $30 a night."

Big break

In 1976, Bright produced and directed the first Bay Area Music Awards (Bammies), staying on as musical director for 12 years. At the time, rock writer Joel Selvin, who wrote the introduction to "Workin’ for a Livin,’" hailed him as "maestro of the San Francisco rock scene."

"It was John Williams meets rock ’n’ roll," Bright says. "I wrote these wonderful slightly humorous arrangements. That's how I got to know Huey Lewis and Bonnie Raitt and Carlos Santana."

Then came his big break. In 1982, when San Francisco's famed Fairmont Hotel needed a new bandleader for its elegant supper club, the Venetian Room, Bright was hired for the plum gig. For the rest of the decade, he and his band backed up such old-school stars as Tony Bennett and Ella Fitzgerald as well as younger rock acts, including James Brown and the Mamas and the Papas.

"What an awesome experience," he says. "I wasn't a big band guy or a jazz guy, but I learned. I called it show biz grad school. That put me on the map in the Bay Area."

Early in his stint at the Fairmont, he remembers looking out a window at the skyline of San Francisco as Bennett sang his signature "I Left My Heart in San Francisco."

"I just started tearing up," he recalls. "I kept thinking, ‘How did I wind up here?’ It was magical."

After the Venetian Room closed in 1989, he formed Dick Bright's SRO, an over-the-top 19-piece show band that was one of the most popular acts on the corporate party circuit during San Francisco's high-flying high-tech boom in the ’90s, when upstart companies like Apple and Oracle were throwing lavish parties for their employees.

"I had five singers and three hip-hop dancers and a professional choreographer," he says. "There was nothing like it that existed in corporate entertainment. I knew from my theater experience that you can't just play music — you have to put on a show. That's what separated my bands from all the others, always."

‘I got lucky’

These days, gratitude comes up a lot in conversation with him. While he was working at the Fairmont, he lived on San Francisco's Potrero Hill. When that job ended, he wanted out of the city. In 1996, he was able to buy his home in Greenbrae and begin a new life in Marin.

"I remember saying to my wife at the time: ‘I want trees, parking and a dog,’" he says. "And I moved to this house in Marin 27 years ago. I got lucky. I kiss the ground every day."

Divorced for a decade, he remarried last year, tying the knot with Valerie Farmer, a financial analyst for the University of California, in a ceremony beside a cascading waterfall in his backyard.

In his long career, he figures he's played 1,500 weddings and countless other shows and gigs. Not completely retired, he can still put together a dance band for events, award shows and parties.

Over the past decade, though, he's mostly been content to sit-in with friends like the Rowan brothers and to perform at charity events with the Angel Force Band, raising money for veterans with PTSD.

On weekends, he plays violin for Shabbat services at Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco, one of the oldest Jewish congregations in California. And he's taken the time to write "Workin’ for a Livin,’" drawing on his long and colorful career as one of the Bay Area's brightest musical personalities to tell it like it is.

"The YouTube generation sees someone go on ‘The Voice,’ sing for three minutes and become a star," he says. "That's not the reality of the business. You’re not going to be a star right away. I want to show musicians the nitty-gritty because it isn't all glamorous like it is on TV. It's hard work. The thrust of the book is that I want to show people the paths where you can make a living in music."

Contact Paul Liberatore at [email protected]

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