A documentary series that focuses on the bad behavior of past and present rock stars is a surprise hit on the VH1 cable network.
Each week, "Behind the Music" confirms what people's parents used to say: Rock music is dangerous, the lifestyle is a killer and some of the industry's executives act like crooks."If I can't get to a 12-step program, I like to be reminded what drugs and alcohol can do even to people I hold in such high esteem," says standup comedian Kate Clinton, who refers to VH1 as "the Recovery Channel." She watches some shows four times over and calls the series "sort of the New Age fireplace."
The documentaries' growing popularity has helped boost ratings and ad revenue for the once-laggard VH1, sibling to Viacom Inc.'s younger, hipper MTV. On Sunday nights, when new installments of "Behind the Music" air, ratings are up 160 percent from the show's debut in August 1997. For the much-coveted demographic group of 18- to 49-year-old viewers, ratings have soared almost 200 percent since the debut. Even such blue-chip advertisers as Toyota, Xerox, BMW and AT&T have asked to be on the show.
The series appeals to baby boomers' nostalgia for the bad old days, but it also draws curious younger viewers who weren't even born when the subjects were at their height. An episode on David Cassidy, a star of nearly three decades ago, scored with viewers 18 to 49 years old when it had its premiere in June.
As for the music industry, it's delighted to be put under such a microscope despite the show's focus. When "Behind the Music" airs, it sparks record and concert sales for artists as diverse as Lynyrd Skynyrd, Madonna and Shania Twain.
Jeff Gaspin, the show's creator and executive producer, says the great attraction is the chance to be a voyeur of the glamour world of rock music. "You get to watch from the safety of your home, to ride the roller coaster," he says. "The ones who didn't make it died. But those who did make it speak with maturity and are articulate about their past."
"Behind the Music" had its inception in 1996 as a one-time documentary-style special on the scourge of heroin in rock music, spurred by a rash of drug-related deaths. Mr. Gaspin, who had just joined VH1 following stints with NBC's "Dateline" and such video shows as "The World's Worst Circus Accidents," says the special, which focused on rockers' self-destructive ways, produced ratings that were triple the average for that time slot.
Mr. Gaspin sensed that recounting similar tawdry tales could hold up as a series. As he learned at "Dateline," viewers who know stories vaguely from headlines are often interested in more in-depth coverage. The formula found the perfect match when Mr. Gaspin picked the story of Milli Vanilli for the show's pilot episode. Milli Vanilli is the duo that lost a Grammy award after it was learned they lip-synched their hits. Depression and banishment followed.
Mr. Gaspin got his next idea while reading an article in People magazine about bankrupt celebrities. It listed MC Hammer: "$33 million to zero." Mr. Gaspin sent a crew to the rapper's $10 million mansion outside San Francisco, where he was astonished that Mr. Hammer was willing to talk about his troubles for four hours before a camera.
The rock-star stories produced Shakespeare-like plots of deceit, hubris, infidelity, larceny and attempts at redemption. In an early version of the show, the lead singer of Three Dog Night was shown losing his career, marriage and family in a haze of heroin addiction. Another profiled Grand Funk Railroad, left penniless by a corrupt manager at the very moment the trio from Flint, Mich., became an overnight sensation. In a show on the briefly reunited Fleetwood Mac, band members talked freely about infidelity and ruinous love affairs. Gladys Knight owned up to her destructive fever for gambling.
In possibly the most talked-about episode to date, viewers witnessed the reunion of '70s teenybopper star Leif Garrett with an old friend who was crippled in a car accident while the doped-up and intoxicated Mr. Garrett was driving. His pal stunned the has-been teen idol by forgiving him -- on camera.
Mr. Garrett says he decided what to say after watching the show on another former teen idol, Mr. Cassidy. "David's wasn't fully open," he says. "But I wanted to do a show where I was going to let them know everything about all the drugs, all the girls, whatever."
One of the early supporters of "Behind the Music" was VH-1's president, John Sykes, but he questioned whether some acts would be interesting to viewers decades after their heydays. "Yes -- when they had a great story to tell," he decided.
Indeed, only over-the-hill rockers agreed to cooperate at first. Many of them saw the show as a means to rescue badly listing careers or decided that opening up on camera could be a valuable promotional tool. After his book was published, Boy George talked openly about how drugs and unrequited love (for his bandmate) cut short the career of the '80s band Culture Club.
While "Behind the Music" was building strong critical reviews, Mr. Gaspin recalls, the show wasn't generating the necessary "buzz" in the music industry. That changed almost instantly with the premiere of a Madonna episode in August. The singer was thriving and had just released what was to become a Grammy-winning album. Yet when she went on TV to talk about the despair she felt when critics slammed her early-'90s "Sex" book and tour, the show produced major ratings both at its premiere and in the countless reruns that followed.
More important, industry executives saw how "Behind the Music" moved the sales of her new "Ray of Light" album and her catalog of earlier recordings. Madonna was followed by Shania Twain. She told of being an orphan and talked about the pain of losing her parents in a car crash and her struggle for stardom. Sales spikes for her crossover country album were also directly attributable to being on "Behind the Music."
R.E.M., possibly the leading alternative rock band in the world, talked about losing drummer Bill Berry, medical problems and its lead singer's sexual preference. Though R.E.M.'s segment first aired in December, reruns continue. "People, to this day, will say, 'I saw you last night.' People find it when they are flipping the channels and get hooked in," says Bertis Downs, the group's attorney, who is seen in the episode tearing up as he talks about Mr. Berry's departure.
"Behind the Music" inspires devotion from viewers who aren't even fans of the musicians being featured. Ed Fingerling, a 33-year-old copywriter for book publisher Scholastic Inc., is no fan of Boy George or Andy Gibb, but their episodes enthralled him, he says. And he got his sister to tape the show on Grand Funk Railroad, a band that was huge when Mr. Fingerling was eight years old. "I never bought a Grand Funk record and I skipped over the '70s. But 'Behind the Music' is an interesting way to catch up on a decade of music that I missed," he says.
Now, VH-1's Mr. Sykes says the line of artists willing to talk about their pain and struggle on the show is "out the door." The show gives them what he calls a "sense of closure on a wild time in their lives."
Of course, some still waver about telling the world about the wild times. Peter Frampton, his career slowed by cocaine problems and poor management, said yes to doing the show, then reneged after he finally viewed the confessional format. But recently, the guitarist, who once sang "Show Me the Way," is now back on the show's shooting schedule.