​Frenchman Norman Doray plays with the big boys. Coming straight from Ibiza where he hit up the Swedish House Mafia's Masquerade Motel, Mr. Doray is dropping into Arkadia at the Fontainebleau this Thursday for the weekly Subliminal Sessions party.

Co-producer of "Chase The Sun", last summer's epic track that's been ripped in virtually every big-room DJ set ever since, Doray has just released another Beatport charter last week. And October brings a first for Norman with the drop of his debut two-disc compilation Strictly Ibiza to Amsterdam that offers some disco, funk, and club hits.

Crossfade got to shoot Doray some Qs about all his recent work, and he hit us back with his As.
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​Ricky Martin, Crossfade's favorite author, recently performed in front of about 200 people at a special mini-concert for an upcoming MTV Tr3s series called Studio Tr3s. We were lucky enough to be at the studio for the production, and saw firsthand how a bicultural, bilingual variety show comes to life.

The painstakingly long process began at around 7 p.m. when we arrived at Miami's Comtel Studios.
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Keith Richards has lived long enough to talk some smack to Lee Zimmerman

​Music vet and New Times scribe Lee Zimmerman shares stories of memorable rock 'n' roll encounters that took place in our local environs. This week, a cutting remark from Keith Richards during a chance encounter with the Rolling Stones.

With all the hoopla about the reissue of the Rolling Stones' epic Exile on Main St., I'm reminded of a chance encounter I had with Mick, Keith and company around the time of the album's original release. I was living in St. Thomas Virgin Islands when I had occasion to meet the band during a quick respite from their chaotic 1972 summer American tour.

It was a Saturday morning and my dad and I were driving down another Main Street, this one belonging to the island's capitol, Charlotte Amalie. I happened to glance at a man walking along the sidewalk who looked strangely familiar, but whose face I couldn't quite place. As he ducked into a shop, it suddenly clicked. I jumped out of my father's car and raced back to the store where I had spotted him. When he emerged, I suddenly realized I was in the company of none other than Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts, accompanied by their sax stalwart Bobby Keys.
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John "Don't Call Me Johnny" Mellencamp

​Music vet and New Times scribe Lee Zimmerman shares stories of memorable rock 'n' roll encounters that took place in our local environs. This week, quick snapshots in a book of memories.

Sometimes even the briefest encounters can leave the most lingering impressions. While I've had occasion to spend quality time with some major marquee stars over the years, oftentimes, all I experienced was an unexpected happenstance that nevertheless became forever etched in my memory.

I initially crossed paths with the rock world while attending Southern Methodist University in Dallas Texas during my freshman year of college. Iron Butterfly (whose main claim to fame was the psychedelic 17-minute side-long track "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida") was playing on campus one night and I happened to encounter the band as they were making their way towards the back of the venue.

"Hey, would you guys take me backstage with you?" I innocently inquired of bassist Lee Dorman. At which point, he politely declined. Happily, I subsequently caught some other concerts that actually induced me to purchase tickets -- the late Alex Chilton with his first band, the Box Tops, when they played SMU a semester later, as well as the Jimi Hendrix Experience when they performed at the Dallas Memorial Auditorium with opening act Chicago Transit Authority, later known simply as Chicago. I remember that particular concert fairly well, especially the moment that occurred during "Purple Haze" when Jimi pointed to a guy in the audience and adlibbed "'Scuse me, while I kiss this guy..."

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RayDavies.info

"Hey Lee, it's Ray Davies calling again. You busy?"

​Music vet and New Times scribe Lee Zimmerman shares stories of memorable rock 'n' roll encounters that took place in our local environs. This week, Lee meets a well respected man, Ray Davies.

The ups and downs of trying to get backstage were played out in three different encounters with one of my all-time heroes, Ray Davies, the erstwhile leader of one England's great Rock bands, the Kinks.

As a songwriter, he ranks up there with Lennon and McCartney, Jagger and Richards, Bob Dylan and Pete Townshend as one of Rock's most astute visionaries and cultural commentators, with songs such as "You Really Got Me," "All of the Day and All of the Night," "Waterloo Sunset," "A Well Respected Man" and dozens of other indelible classics credited to his catalogue. Despite a reputation as a somewhat quirky character, he was a showbiz original, given to extravagant behavior onstage and a shy, somewhat guarded personality when out of the spotlight -- a sentimental sort of man in his more private moments.


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Steve Winwood (front), joint not pictured

​Music vet and New Times scribe Lee Zimmerman shares stories of memorable rock 'n' roll encounters that took place in our local environs. This week: Candid conversations and the naked truth.

I relish asking my musical heroes all the obscure questions that the fan in me has always wanted to know. These days, by necessity, most of these encounters take place on the phone or via email, negating the possibility of forming a personal bond, albeit briefly. But years ago, I had the pleasure of engaging in numerous meetings of the musical kind, which for various reasons hold special memories even today.

My earliest interviews transpired when I was in college at the University of Miami, reporting on music for the college paper, The Hurricane. In fact, the very first interview I ever scored was backstage at the old Miami Jai Lai when it was a favored venue for live music, hosting the likes of Bruce Springsteen, Steve Martin, David Crosby and Graham Nash and many others.

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​Music vet and New Times scribe Lee Zimmerman shares stories of memorable rock 'n' roll encounters that took place in our local environs. This week, Jimmy gets a hit and Lee gets the nod.

Prior to May 1977, Jimmy Buffett was just another wannabe singer/songwriter who did his time in Nashville before subsequently retreating to the tropical environs of Key West to relax, regroup and plan his next assault on the mainstream. It would be another 30 years or so before he would add adventurer, author, entrepreneur and sports franchise co-owner to his resume, and so for the time being, his only goal was to have a hit that would establish his brand on the airwaves. He made some minor inroads in June, 1974, when, signed to an obscure record label, his sentimental homesick ballad "Come Monday" managed to make it to number 30 in Billboard. Not bad, Buffett figured, but hardly good enough to endear him to the masses.

Our paths crossed that May, although it took some time to actually connect in person. I was still working as a promo person for ABC Records and Buffett was a new signing to the roster, which already included megastars like Steely Dan, Chaka Khan and the soon-to-be huge Tom Petty.

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Strike while the Iron is hot-headed

​Music vet and New Times scribe Lee Zimmerman shares stories of memorable rock 'n' roll encounters that took place in our local environs. This week, an uncomfortable encounter with Iron Maiden and a mad dash to get their singer to the show on time.

Long before the arrival of Hard Rock, Bank Atlantic Center and the network of clubs and night spots that provide South Florida its various havens for live music, the area's main venue of note was a hulking, oversized iron and steel hanger known as the Sportatorium. As a promotion rep for Capitol Records in the late '70s and early '80s, I hated the place. It was a hassle simple to get there -- the then-undeveloped pasture land of West Broward -- and knowing that nine times out of ten my backstage passes wouldn't be waiting at the box office as I was promised, I dreaded having to wade through an unruly mob just to get situated.

In the fall of 1983, one of Capitol's major acts, Iron Maiden, was booked into the Sportatorium. In order to maximize the promotional possibilities, I duly arranged to take the band's vocalist, Bruce Dickinson, to local radio stations and record stores for some glad-handing and meet and greets on the afternoon prior to the concert. Dickinson agreed and so I went to their hotel - the Newport on Miami Beach - the night before to introduce myself and welcome them to town.
 
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Back in his early days, Tom Petty got a lot more sand kicked at him

​Music vet and New Times scribe Lee Zimmerman shares stories of memorable rock 'n' roll encounters that took place in our local environs. This week, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers play their first official gig and get a heartbreaking rebuke.

During a pleasant fall evening in 1976, I was in an otherwise inconspicuous shithole of a club in West Palm Beach, the name of which I've long forgotten. Indeed, its most distinguishing feature was the piles of peanut shells that littered the floor, as if a trashed appearance might otherwise pass for ambiance.

And yet, within these shabby surroundings, history was made. This was home to the official launch of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, a band that gained hometown notoriety in its native Gainesville under the name Mudcrutch before moving west, signing a contract with Leon Russell's Shelter Records label, and rebranding themselves in anticipation of the national spotlight.

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The fella on the far right is Lee Zimmerman

​Music vet and New Times scribe Lee Zimmerman shares stories of memorable rock 'n' roll encounters that took place in our local environs. This week, a daytripping tale about catching Paul McCartney and his band on the run at American Airlines Arena.

It was September 2005 and then as now, I was working for television station CBS4. Our entertainment reporter, Lisa Petrillo, tried for weeks to get a one-on-one interview with Sir Paul McCartney. He was ensconced at the Ritz Carlton Hotel on Key Biscayne the entire month prior to his American tour, which was set to launch on September 16. Being a Beatles devotee, I made no secret of my desire to tag along when -- and if -- it transpired.
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