When David Jacks published a biography of Peter Asher in 2022, the veteran record producer and manager expressed surprise that anyone had considered his life worthy of such treatment. Four years later, he is no less bewildered to have been the subject of a new documentary, “Peter Asher: Everywhere Man,” directed by filmmakers Dan Geller and Dayna Goldfine.
“It just seemed to me,” he says, “that it wouldn't be as fascinating.”
The movie, now in theaters, argues the opposite: Asher, a child actor alongside his two younger sisters, became an unlikely pop star during the British Invasion as half of the duo Peter & Gordon, whose debut single, “A World Without Love,” written by Paul McCartney, reached No. 1 on Billboard's Hot 100 in 1964. (McCartney offered the song to Asher while the Beatle was dating Asher's sister, Jane.) In 1968, the Beatles named Asher director of A&R at Apple Records, where he hired James Taylor; The two soon moved to Los Angeles and turned Taylor into folk music's biggest heartthrob.
Asher brought Linda Ronstadt to stardom and produced records by Diana Ross, Cher, Bonnie Raitt, Randy Newman, Neil Diamond and 10,000 Maniacs, among many others. And at 82, he's still at it: Last year he produced Barbra Streisand's latest album of duets (they should start working on a new Streisand solo LP, he says) and will perform his own show on July 19 at the Grammy Museum. Asher, who broke his leg in a recent fall, talked about it the other morning at his Malibu home, where he entered the kitchen using a cane before sitting at a table with pastries and several daily newspapers.
What unites the jobs of musician, producer, executive, manager? What is the direct line?
Love for music and admiration for the people who make it. They are very different jobs and I came to them from very different perspectives. Record production was something I set out to do once I understood what a record producer does. Hire musicians much better than you and tell them what to do? It's a great job. How can I participate in that business? While I never had the ambition to be a coach. It's just that when James and I decided to go out on our own and try to make a career together, we didn't know who we trusted to do it, so I said, I'll do it.
What did you discover about management work?
The ingredients are common sense, not being a criminal and having a great client.
Which is the most difficult of the three?
Latest. I had the opportunity to incorporate the first managers inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame: Brian Epstein and Andrew Loog Oldham, the Beatles and the Stones. That's the hard part. The only thing that would tempt me to go back into management would be if lightning struck a third time: seeing James, seeing Linda, and then seeing someone comparably brilliant, which I do occasionally. But usually they already have a manager.
What's the last new act that knocked you out?
Ed Sheeran.
Was it just because he looks like he could be your grandson?
That certainly crossed my mind.
As a producer, your albums helped define the sound of rock in the '70s.
The so-called California sound.
Then the spirit of the time changed.
One realized it. Pop music became very electronic, which I loved.
Was there a place for you in that style?
I didn't consciously try to make records in that style because I don't think I could have done it, at least not as well as they were being made.
What record from the early '80s made you think that?
“Sweet dreams (are made of this).” I couldn't do that.
Back to the 70s: the document is full of photographs of James looking…
Like a movie star. With the “JT” cover, I finally got to the end and said, “We’re doing the glamor shot.” Then we did “Flag,” which everyone hated.
With the maritime flag. A truly wicked album cover.
I loved it. James loved it. Everyone thought we were crazy.
How crucial do you think James' good looks were to his entire proposal?
I don't know.
Come on, come on.
I really don't. I mean, how would you measure that? There are probably girls who fell in love with him without hearing the album.
I think you just measured it.
If I were ugly, would I be such a big star? Probably not.
(Evan Mulling / for The Times)
The same applies to Linda, right?
When I first saw Linda, it was stages of realization. Someone said to me, “You've got to go down and see this girl at Bitter End.” I walk in and she sings very well, indescribably well. Then she looks incredibly cool: barefoot and in shorts. My God, my heart. Then you meet her and it turns out that she is an extraordinarily brilliant woman, very cultured. You just say, “All these things together, how can it be?” It's the same when we talk about the Beatles: if you cast them as the Spice Girls, you still couldn't have made four fit together so perfectly.
Did you like the Spice Girls?
Fantastic. “Tell me what you want / What you really want”: it's a hit. And yet, none of them are particularly good singers, which is the point.
Not long ago I attended an event where Paul McCartney played his new album for a small group of fans. It was fascinating to see the spell McCartney had on people.
He's had to get used to it, admit to himself that he can't meet people who aren't surprised to have met him. Even as someone who's known him off and on for a long time, you still get the wave of: Holy shit.
Are you still surprised to be around him?
Of course. I understand it less, I'm ready for it. But you can't pretend it's not Paul McCartney. And he will have to live with that all his life.
You grew up as a member of the upper class, I think it's fair to say.
I don't think we were that grumpy. But upstairs, probably yes.
I was wondering how that positioned you to live and work among artistic types.
If anything, the upper class has more time to be artistic, less concerned with getting a job and making a living. But my parents worked incredibly hard: we were not upper class in the sense of inherited wealth. My father was a doctor, my mother was a music teacher. But to be honest, I never had any problems. I had a comfortable allowance and then I went to school and worked hard. Everyone talks about sharing a flat with a million people and living on borrowed sandwiches; I skipped that phase.
Did that shape you in any significant way?
I don't know. But I think when people struggle, getting away from them becomes a significant part of their lives. With someone like James, the fight was a fight against drugs. Now he says that the worst thing about drugs is that they are a complete waste of time: you waste time doing nothing except looking for drugs. And I think that made him eager to succeed and be taken seriously.
I'm sure you saw the New York Times. list of the 30 greatest living American composers.
You knew it was going to be stupid. Randy Newman, for God's sake, you can't not include him.
Neither does Neil Diamond.
Crazy.
And no Billy Joel.
[Shrugs].
How is your health?
High blood pressure, high cholesterol, need to exercise more: old people's things. Other than that and a broken leg, great.
Are you okay with the cane?
It is a considerable improvement over the wheelchair. I like the cane, it's something elegant.
What seems more terrifying: the body in motion or the mind in motion?
The mind goes. And it is, a little. I had a stroke and some parts of my brain are not working well. But compared to other people I know, I'm fine.
We are in a moment in which many fundamental figures of rock 'n' roll…
They are dying. It's fashionable.
How does it feel to see your friends and colleagues leave?
Better them than me.
A couple more for you: You managed Courtney Love for a while.
I met her here in Malibu. I also drove Pamela Anderson for a while because she was a neighbor and asked me for help.
Did you put a tile?
“Rental Manager.” I'm trying to remember how I met Courtney; I think Merck Mercuriadis was talking to her about Kurt's posts and stuff. I liked her. Very smart. I like intelligent women.
Is she easy to work with? Is it difficult to work with him?
Impossible to work with him.
What is James Taylor's best album?
“JT”, maybe.
What is Linda Ronstadt's best album?
“Heart like a wheel.” With Linda, it's unfair because they are radically different. How do you compare that to a mariachi record and then to Nelson Riddle?
Working with Riddle on those albums must have been exciting.
He told us all these incredible stories about Frank Sinatra, who he didn't like even though he greatly admired him. It was John David Souther who originally suggested Nelson. Linda had tried to do the album in a different way: she did some covers with Jerry Wexler and it didn't work. So we had a meeting with Nelson: would he consider making a couple of arrangements for us? He said, “No.” We said, “What?” He said, “I'll make an album, though.”
“A World Without Love” was one of eight songs that topped the chart in 1964 with “love” in the title. What does that say about the pop music of the mid-'60s?
It says the same thing about pop music of all time: it's “I love you,” “She loves you,” or “Why don't you love me?” Weird Al pointed out to me that when you're looking for a song parody, any song that has “love” in the title, replace it with “lunch” and it's funny. “A world without lunch.” I mean, who would want to live in a place like that?
