know.”
I held the crisp pages in my hand and began to read.
Adam Levy, the music world’s most respected and talented executive, is facing the struggle of his life. Diagnosed early last year with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, a life-threatening degenerative disease of the lungs, Mr. Levy is residing in Randalls Hospital in the critical care unit while undergoing treatment for this condition.
Mr. Levy, 49, the reigning president and CEO of HiTide Records, one of the largest and most successful record labels in the business, has stunned the music world with the recent news of his hospitalization. Best known for such acts as the Grammy-award winning Funk Brothers and pop superstar Mindy Samuels, Adam Levy is personally responsible for the success and triumphs of…
I paused from the parade of celebrities to study the picture included in the article. “This is a nice picture of you.” He was a handsome, virile man with a full head of hair, clean lines, and his son’s eyes; only the picture was black and white, so the people of Los Angeles were cheated out of the spectacular color. I continued reading to myself, the words summing up Adam’s Levy life, the beginning, the chances he took, the praise he received.
“It’s unheard of, the type of success Adam Levy has achieved in this transient, ever-changing, fickle music community, but the statistics prove it,” said his long-time rival Blake Friedman of Sony Music in New York. “I should despise the guy for his knack of finding number one acts, but he’s just too decent and human of a guy. Anyone who meets the man can’t say enough about him.”
Doug Henry of Rolling Stone, recently wrote, “Adam Levy is one of the true talents of music media today. He can fine-tune an artist like one might an old piano. He plucks unknowns off the street, hands them over to the right personnel, and before you blink, they are an American Top 40. His gift is one that no other label executive has been able to procure.”
When interviewed by the Times just last year, Adam Levy told reporter Ken Ronberg that the key to his professional success was, merely, “Doing something I love to do.”
Mr. Levy is married to Rachel, his wife of 25 years, and they have two children, Jonas, 22, and Amy, 12.
“They make you sound dead already.”
“They do, don’t they?” he said, sullen and afraid.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve grown to appreciate your inability to filter your thoughts.” The laughter that followed suppressed the idea of him dying and the fact that the man was practically a star.
“You should be very proud of yourself,” I said, not knowing what more to say. There was a stirring within me as if Adam Levy was charting my destiny. “I can be doing my thing, going about my business, and then I hear a song, and it’s like everything can change in an instant, everything I was thinking, feeling.”
“I understand,” he said, “more than you know. Music has taken me back to times in my life I thought I’d forgotten, places I never wanted to forget.”
“Do regular people understand or is that just the gift of the music lover? Sometimes it feels like a curse.”
“Why do you say that?”
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “Because just as a song can transport me back in time to a happy place, it can also take me back to a sad place.”
“I’d say that most of the time it’s been a gift. Have you ever just closed your eyes and breathed in a smell and you’re back to that place, wherever it was?”
“Isn’t that just nostalgia?” I interrupted, taken in by his sincerity, the depth at which he obviously experienced things. “You know, how you long for someone, something, or even someplace that made you feel good? But it’s gone?”
He looked at me, saw my secret sadness. “Music does that to me,” he said, kindly guiding us back to the present.
“Me too,” I said. “And movies, they do that
I held the crisp pages in my hand and began to read.
Adam Levy, the music world’s most respected and talented executive, is facing the struggle of his life. Diagnosed early last year with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, a life-threatening degenerative disease of the lungs, Mr. Levy is residing in Randalls Hospital in the critical care unit while undergoing treatment for this condition.
Mr. Levy, 49, the reigning president and CEO of HiTide Records, one of the largest and most successful record labels in the business, has stunned the music world with the recent news of his hospitalization. Best known for such acts as the Grammy-award winning Funk Brothers and pop superstar Mindy Samuels, Adam Levy is personally responsible for the success and triumphs of…
I paused from the parade of celebrities to study the picture included in the article. “This is a nice picture of you.” He was a handsome, virile man with a full head of hair, clean lines, and his son’s eyes; only the picture was black and white, so the people of Los Angeles were cheated out of the spectacular color. I continued reading to myself, the words summing up Adam’s Levy life, the beginning, the chances he took, the praise he received.
“It’s unheard of, the type of success Adam Levy has achieved in this transient, ever-changing, fickle music community, but the statistics prove it,” said his long-time rival Blake Friedman of Sony Music in New York. “I should despise the guy for his knack of finding number one acts, but he’s just too decent and human of a guy. Anyone who meets the man can’t say enough about him.”
Doug Henry of Rolling Stone, recently wrote, “Adam Levy is one of the true talents of music media today. He can fine-tune an artist like one might an old piano. He plucks unknowns off the street, hands them over to the right personnel, and before you blink, they are an American Top 40. His gift is one that no other label executive has been able to procure.”
When interviewed by the Times just last year, Adam Levy told reporter Ken Ronberg that the key to his professional success was, merely, “Doing something I love to do.”
Mr. Levy is married to Rachel, his wife of 25 years, and they have two children, Jonas, 22, and Amy, 12.
“They make you sound dead already.”
“They do, don’t they?” he said, sullen and afraid.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve grown to appreciate your inability to filter your thoughts.” The laughter that followed suppressed the idea of him dying and the fact that the man was practically a star.
“You should be very proud of yourself,” I said, not knowing what more to say. There was a stirring within me as if Adam Levy was charting my destiny. “I can be doing my thing, going about my business, and then I hear a song, and it’s like everything can change in an instant, everything I was thinking, feeling.”
“I understand,” he said, “more than you know. Music has taken me back to times in my life I thought I’d forgotten, places I never wanted to forget.”
“Do regular people understand or is that just the gift of the music lover? Sometimes it feels like a curse.”
“Why do you say that?”
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “Because just as a song can transport me back in time to a happy place, it can also take me back to a sad place.”
“I’d say that most of the time it’s been a gift. Have you ever just closed your eyes and breathed in a smell and you’re back to that place, wherever it was?”
“Isn’t that just nostalgia?” I interrupted, taken in by his sincerity, the depth at which he obviously experienced things. “You know, how you long for someone, something, or even someplace that made you feel good? But it’s gone?”
He looked at me, saw my secret sadness. “Music does that to me,” he said, kindly guiding us back to the present.
“Me too,” I said. “And movies, they do that
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