In 1988 I first heard the Lyle Lovett song “God Will.” The lyric sounds typical, with the singer asking his girl who will love her when she’s been cheating, lying and spending nights on the town. Typical country song stuff. But then the song takes a surprising turn. Who loves her..?
“God does but I don’t
God will but I won’t
And that’s the difference
Between God and me.”
Wow. I bought his album and became a fan.
Lyle Lovett was signed to Curb records, and so that’s the label I now wanted to be on. If they “got” him with all his quirkiness, maybe they would like my music. Curb is an independent label, which I gave them more freedom. I didn’t know how it all worked. I just wanted to be on the same label that would support Lyle Lovett.
But how could I get Curb to listen to my music? Labels reject unsolicited material.
In my research, I came across the name of an independent record promotor named Scott Borchetta. He had to be related to Mike Borchetta, who founded Curb’s Nashville office (I found out later Scott was Mike Borchetta’s son). I called directory assistance in Nashville and got Scott’s business number. After writing it down, I stared at it for a minute. I had never spoken to anyone from Nashville before. It felt like reaching out to a whole different world. Was I ready?
I dialed. After one ring I heard a voice say “Scott Borchetta.” I resisted the impulse to hang up. I didn’t hear much of a southern twang in his voice. I thought I would.
“Hi, I’m Spencer Bernard. I’m a country artist in Minnesota, and I’m wondering if I can send you a tape of my music.”
“Well, I’m a promotor, not a record company” Scott replied politely.
“I know, I but I’d sure respect your opinion of my music.”
His next words surprised me.
“Ok, sure. Send it over.”
I wrote down his address and thanked him. I hung up the phone, addressed a brown envelop with a cassette and photo, and drove it to the post office. When the envelope disappeared into the blue metal mailbox, I knew I was committed. Too late to take it back now. Only Lisa, my girlfriend, had heard my music. That was about to change.
One long week later I called. Again, it was easy to get Scott on the phone. He answered after one ring.
“Scott Borchetta.”
“Hi Scott. This is Spencer Bernard. I sent you a tape and was wondering if you received it.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve got it right here.” His voice sounded friendly. “I like this. I like this a lot. It’s different. What do you want me to do with it?”
“Do you know anyone at Curb records?” I’m surprised he didn’t laugh out loud at the question.
“Yeah, I do. I’ll drop it off.”
I thanked him and hung up. I stared out the window, watching cars drive by on the street below. If this was all the further I got, it was pretty good. Someone from Curb would actually hear my music.
Two days later I came home to a blinking light on my answering machine. The tape rewound a long time, the machine clicked and clacked, and then played the message.
“…Uh…This is Dick Whitehouse…From Curb records….”
This was the president of Curb’s Nashville office.
He struggled to gather his thoughts. That happened to a lot of people who called me because my outgoing message was so abrupt (“leave a message” – BEEEEP). First time callers were caught off-guard.
“I’ve got your tape here… It’s different” he continued. I listened, holding my breath.
He asked if my goal was to to be an artist and to do concerts. I wish I had saved that recording! I listened to his message three times and realized my life had changed. This was happening. I picked up the phone and called him back. He got right on the line and asked me if I had any other songs. I told him I didn’t have anything that was finished.
“Then send me your unfinished stuff. Send me any demos, rough ideas, whatever. Send me everything you’ve got.”
And so I did. I mailed him a cassette of rough demos and song fragments. I wonder if that was a mistake.
I waited a week, and heard nothing. Finally I called the Curb office in Nashville. His assistant put me right through.
“Dick Whitehouse” he answered.
“Hi Dick, this is Spencer Bernard. I’m following up on that tape I sent…”
“Oh yeah.” He was silent for a second or two. And then he said it. He said the words that changed my beautiful carriage back into a pumpkin.
“I’m gonna pass. You’re too left of center.”
And that was that. I don’t remember anything else from the conversation.
A few months later I traveled to Nashville. I sang at a few writer’s nights, and played my tape for any industry folks that were willing to meet with me. Most of them said they liked it, but it wasn’t something they could sign.
This music was written and recorded in 1988-1989. For 27 years I forgot about it. Recently I was transferring old VHS and cassette tapes to my computer and rediscovered these songs. I listend and smiled remembering recording in my spare room, on eight tracks and a single microphone. I also reflected freshly on my “near miss” with Curb.
I’m thankful Mr. Whitehouse made the decision he did.
After Curb passed on me, life went on. I married my girlfriend Lisa, and we’re still married today. We have two awesome kids. Lisa and I wrote and recorded her album together. After the kids came, I became a pastor at a church, and discovered I had a passion for teaching God’s Word. My wife Lisa and I still do lots of music together. I love my life, just as it is.
Had Curb signed me, I would have spent a lot of years away from my family on the road and in the studio. My marriage and parenting would have suffered. Knowing what I know now, it wouldn’t have been worth it.
“Too left of center” was a blessing in disguise.
But it was sure fun to almost be a Curb recording artist for a few days. I kept pursuing country music for a couple more years, but that phone call was the closest I got.
Thanks for reading my story, and I hope you find a piece of your story in “Starting Now.”
Blessings
Spencer Bernard
And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.
Romans 8:28 NLT
Starting Now 