Muhammad Ibadurrohman
The recent passing of music titan Clive Davis on June 22, 2026, has prompted a wave of tributes from across the music industry, reflecting on his unparalleled legacy as a record executive and talent scout. Among those sharing intimate insights into Davis’s unique approach to the business is Pete Ganbarg, a two-time Grammy Award winner who worked closely with Davis during pivotal periods of his career. Ganbarg’s tenure included serving as senior director of A&R at Arista Records from 1997 to 2001, where he famously A&R’d Santana’s groundbreaking album Supernatural, an industry phenomenon that sold over 30 million copies worldwide and garnered nine Grammy Awards in 2000, including Album of the Year. He later reunited with Davis as an A&R consultant at J/RCA Records from 2004 to 2008. Ganbarg’s recollections offer a rare glimpse into the inner workings of Davis’s legendary A&R meetings, a process he describes as a "lost art" in today’s music landscape, emphasizing a meticulous, music-first philosophy that prioritized artistic integrity and commercial viability above all else.
Clive Davis’s Unwavering Esteem for A&R
Clive Davis held A&R (Artists and Repertoire) personnel in exceptionally high regard, often treating them, as Ganbarg notes, "almost like protected species." This wasn’t merely a matter of deference; it was a fundamental tenet of his business philosophy. Davis inherently understood that the A&R division formed the bedrock of any successful record company. Without individuals capable of identifying, signing, and developing compelling talent, and then finding the right material for them, the entire machinery of promotion, marketing, and distribution would lack its essential fuel. His conviction was simple yet profound: "If you can’t do your job right and give the company the tools to work with, then the company can’t do its job." This perspective fostered an environment where A&R professionals felt empowered and valued, understanding their critical role in the label’s artistic and commercial triumphs. In an industry increasingly influenced by data analytics and digital trends, Davis’s unwavering belief in human discernment and musical instinct stands as a powerful testament to a bygone era of artist development.
The Impromptu, Marathon A&R Sessions
A hallmark of Clive Davis’s operational style was the utterly unpredictable nature of his A&R meetings. These were never pre-scheduled calendar events; instead, they materialized with a suddenness that demanded immediate attention. Ganbarg vividly recalls receiving calls as late as 9:30 in the morning, instructing, "A&R meeting at 10" or, more urgently, "A&R meeting right now." This spontaneity underscored the constant, living nature of A&R under Davis’s stewardship. For those involved, an A&R meeting wasn’t a mere agenda item; it was an immersive experience, often spanning the entire day, from 10 a.m. well past midnight. Personal commitments or other appointments were swiftly dismissed; if Clive called, everything else ceased to matter. These marathon sessions were exclusively dedicated to listening to music, often with artists calling in to discuss their work. In such instances, the A&R team would be actively engaged, passing notes, offering silent cues, and providing support, all while Davis interacted directly with the talent. This intensive, deeply personal engagement with the creative process is what Ganbarg laments as a "lost art," a stark contrast to the often fragmented and digitally mediated interactions prevalent in contemporary music production.
The "Song Folder" Era: A Pre-Digital Relic
Before the ubiquitous adoption of MP3s and digital streaming platforms, Clive Davis’s A&R process relied on a meticulously organized physical system, centered around what Ganbarg refers to as "the song folder." Given that many of the iconic artists Davis worked with—such as Whitney Houston and Aretha Franklin—were primarily interpreters rather than songwriters, there was a continuous influx of material from publishers and independent songwriters. This music, initially on cassette tapes and later on CDs, would be carefully collected and categorized. Each major artist in development would have their dedicated "song folder"—a Whitney folder, an Aretha folder, an "Idols" folder for contestants emerging from shows like American Idol who were under Davis’s purview. Every CD submitted was accompanied by its lyric sheet, ensuring that the team could follow along as they listened.
The meetings themselves, though unscheduled in terms of timing, often revolved around these folders. Davis might declare, "OK, today’s the day that we’re going to talk about Whitney. Who’s got the latest Whitney song file?" A folder might contain seven or eight new submissions, never allowed to accumulate significantly more, as these listening sessions would occur at least once a week, sometimes more frequently. The entire team would sit, lyric sheets in hand, absorbing each track. This methodical, tangible approach to music discovery and evaluation stands in stark contrast to today’s landscape, where algorithms, TikTok virality, and influencer metrics often dictate initial interest. For Davis, the core principle remained immutable: "It was always about the music." This unwavering focus on the intrinsic quality of the composition and performance, rather than external metrics, defined his legendary ear for hits.
The Art of Evaluation: A Scored System of Hits
Central to the effectiveness of Davis’s A&R meetings was his unique, quantitative scoring system. While seemingly simple, it was imbued with profound meaning and consequence. Ganbarg reveals that Davis wasn’t necessarily seeking to be swayed by his team’s opinions; rather, he viewed his A&R staff as "stand-ins for the audience." Their scores were meant to reflect a collective pulse, a proxy for public reception. The scale ranged from zero to 10, though in practice, no song ever truly registered a zero or a perfect 10. A "six" indicated a passable track, perhaps suitable for an album but not a standout. A "seven" denoted a solid "album cut"—a strong track that would contribute to the overall quality of a record. The coveted "eight," however, was reserved for a "hit."
Achieving an "eight" was rare air, a declaration not to be made lightly. "You did not say the word ‘eight’ unless you were ready to take a bullet for it," Ganbarg emphasizes, highlighting the immense pressure and responsibility associated with identifying a potential smash. Hits were the currency of the industry, the lifeblood of a label, and an "eight" was tantamount to "trumpets blaring, the gates of the kingdom opening." This rigorous standard meant that A&R executives often walked a fine line. There were no "twos" on the scale, as a "six" effectively served that purpose – signaling a track not worthy of further discussion. Occasionally, A&R executives would employ creative hedging, giving a score like "7.97275" for a song that was clearly superior to an album cut but perhaps not quite a bulletproof hit, signaling their enthusiasm without fully committing to the "eight" declaration. This precise, yet subtly nuanced, system ensured that every evaluation was carefully considered, reflecting both an individual’s musical judgment and their understanding of market potential.
Ganbarg recalls specific instances where this system played out. Whitney Houston’s late 90s comeback, for example, saw Wyclef Jean’s "My Love Is Your Love" receiving "hit scores across the board," unanimously declared a "smash." Similarly, Rodney Jerkins’ production on Houston’s "It’s Not Right but It’s Okay" also garnered enthusiastic "eight" and even "nine" ratings, signifying its undeniable hit potential. These examples underscore the effectiveness of Davis’s system in identifying tracks that would go on to achieve significant commercial and critical success.
The Art of Subtlety: Coded Signals with Artists Present
The dynamics of an A&R meeting shifted significantly when the artist whose music was being evaluated was physically present in the room. Directly telling an artist that their cherished song might not be a hit required immense tact and often proved impossible without potentially damaging the delicate artist-executive relationship. To navigate these sensitive situations, Davis and his A&R team developed a clever system of coded signals, akin to a third-base coach flashing signs to a batter in baseball.
Ganbarg illustrates this with a simple gesture: "You’d suddenly put three fingers on your cheek." Davis, ever astute, would instantly decode this signal. Knowing the scale was out of 10, three fingers meant "10 minus three is a seven." He understood exactly what the A&R executive was communicating about the song’s potential without uttering a single word that might offend or discourage the artist. This ingenious method allowed for honest, unvarnished feedback to be conveyed to Davis, while simultaneously maintaining a positive and supportive environment for the artist. It demonstrated Davis’s masterful understanding of human psychology and his commitment to fostering strong relationships with his talent, even when delivering difficult assessments.
Clive Davis’s Prophetic Vision: Willing Success into Existence
Perhaps one of the most remarkable facets of Clive Davis’s genius was his almost prophetic ability to foresee the trajectory of an artist’s career and the success of their albums. Ganbarg recounts a compelling anecdote involving Sarah McLachlan and her 1997 album, Surfacing. McLachlan had achieved significant success with her 1993 album, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, which ultimately went triple platinum in the U.S. Following a hiatus, anticipation for Surfacing was high.
Davis, with his characteristic foresight, laid out a precise roadmap for the album’s rollout and anticipated performance. He declared, "OK, this is what’s going to happen. We’ve got ‘Building a Mystery’ out now. Second single is going to be ‘Sweet Surrender,’ third single is going to be ‘Adia,’ fourth single is probably going to be the biggest single, ‘Angel.’ They’re all going to be hits, and we’ll probably end up selling north of probably 6 or 7 million." His prediction was astoundingly accurate. Surfacing indeed followed that exact single release sequence, with "Angel" becoming the album’s most enduring hit, and the album ultimately sold 8 million copies, surpassing even his own conservative estimate. Ganbarg notes that Davis wasn’t merely predicting the future; "he was willing it" into existence. This highlights Davis’s profound belief in the artists he championed, his meticulous strategic planning, and his uncanny ability to understand market dynamics and audience reception years in advance. It was this blend of intuition, business acumen, and unwavering conviction that allowed him to consistently transform potential into unparalleled success.
An Unending Thirst for Musical Discovery
Beyond his strategic genius and discerning ear, Clive Davis was defined by an insatiable, lifelong passion for music. He never tired of listening, constantly seeking out "whatever is out, whatever’s new, whatever people are excited about," driven by a desire "to understand what keeps music moving forward." This commitment to staying current was not passive; it was an active pursuit. Every weekend, his assistant would curate a cassette tape (and later, CDs) filled with all the latest new songs. This was Davis’s weekend soundtrack, a dedicated time for him to immerse himself in emerging sounds and trends.
His approach was devoid of elitism or genre bias. "Nothing was ever too new or different for him not to try to understand why it was connecting with an audience," Ganbarg explains. This open-mindedness and perpetual curiosity allowed Davis to remain relevant across multiple decades and musical shifts, from rock and pop to R&B and hip-hop. He was a perennial student of popular culture, always seeking to grasp the underlying appeal of new artists and sounds. This constant engagement, a stark contrast to many executives who might rest on past laurels, was a key factor in his sustained success and his ability to repeatedly discover and cultivate groundbreaking talent throughout his illustrious career.
The Enduring Legacy of Clive Davis and the Future of A&R
Clive Davis’s methods, as illuminated by Pete Ganbarg, represent a golden age of A&R, an era where human intuition, extensive listening, and a profound understanding of music’s emotional impact formed the core of the industry. His career, spanning decades and leading multiple iconic labels—from Columbia Records, where he signed Janis Joplin and Bruce Springsteen, to Arista Records, which he founded and built into a powerhouse, and later J Records and RCA Music Group—is a testament to his unique blend of artistic sensibility and business acumen. He not only discovered and developed generational talents like Whitney Houston, Santana, Barry Manilow, and Aretha Franklin but also revitalized the careers of established legends.
In an industry increasingly driven by algorithms, streaming data, and social media virality, Ganbarg’s reflections serve as a poignant reminder of what might be lost. While technological advancements have democratized music creation and distribution, they have also, arguably, diminished the role of the meticulous, human-centric A&R process that Davis perfected. The physical "song folder" has been replaced by digital playlists, and impromptu, all-day listening sessions are often superseded by data-driven insights.
Davis’s legacy challenges the modern industry to reconsider the balance between data and discernment. His belief that A&R executives are "protected species" and "stand-ins for the audience" underscores the irreplaceable value of human judgment and passion in identifying the next great artist or the next timeless hit. As the music world navigates its future, the principles exemplified by Clive Davis—unwavering focus on music, a relentless pursuit of new talent, strategic foresight, and a deep respect for the creative process—offer enduring lessons for fostering genuine artistry and achieving lasting commercial success. His passing marks the end of an era, but his influence on how music is discovered, nurtured, and brought to the world will continue to resonate for generations to come.
This story appeared in the July 18, 2026, issue of Billboard.
