Read Online Every Little Step: My Story by Bobby Brown, Nick Chiles - Free Book Online
Authors: Bobby Brown, Nick Chiles
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boy. That’s where it all began. After all, who would walk away from a multimillion-dollar group? And to top it off, word got out that the group had voted to kick him out because he was irresponsible and missing rehearsals and shows, trying to destroy an extremely popular group. That was the official story fed to the press.
That’s where the stigma started.
CHAPTER 3
ON MY OWN
My life changed pretty quickly when I left New Edition. It went from one extreme to the other. My first problem was I didn’t have any money. I was seventeen years old, back in Boston, and I had to figure out what I could do to survive until I made my solo record. So I started selling weed. But that didn’t last long—my brother found out. He was not happy and shut that down right away.
I then started writing and going into the studio and recording as much as possible. I would send songs to people I knew at MCA, and they liked what they heard. MCA had already asked me if I wanted to do a solo album, but I needed some time off from the grueling travel with New Edition. So I went to work on my first solo album, which would fulfill my part of New Edition’s two-album obligation to Jump and Shoot. We called my solo album King of Stage . I’ve always felt that was the most accurate description of my performing talents. I may not be the most gifted singer in the world, but once I got out on that stage I didn’t think anybody could match me. Years later my first wife would try to call me the “King of R & B,” but that was never a title I claimed.
I had a big hit on that first solo album, a song called “Girlfriend” that climbed to number one on the Billboard R & B chart in 1986. I made enough money with that song to move my entire family out of Boston to Los Angeles—my mom, dad, sisters and brother. Everybody moved out west with me. I was fulfilling that vow I made to myself after Jimmy died to get out of the projects—though I had no idea it would all happen so fast.
While it was cool to have a hit song on my first album, I wasn’t even close to satisfied. I wanted to do big things. I had a lot I wanted to say. But nothing could have prepared me for Don’t Be Cruel .
Blowing Up
At one point when New Edition was out on the road, we were touring with the incredible Rick James. I spent a lot of time with him; I was drawn to him like a magnet. How could you not be drawn to Rick James—he was larger than life. I’d always loved his music, ever since those days dancing to my grandmother’s records in her living room. But now he became a very dear friend to me. I learned so much from him, about life, about music, about women.
I would often go into his dressing room before the shows, just to absorb all the knowledge and wisdom I could. He was trying to teach me how to play the bass, that instrument I had always loved, so while we were having our lesson, he’d start talking. When he found out that we were smoking weed on the tour, he got pissed off. He was adamant—he’d say to us, “Don’t ever do drugs, it’ll kill you.” And he’d be smoking a joint while he said it!
We said, “But you smoke it!”
“That doesn’t mean you should smoke it,” he said. “You’re kids. When you get to be twenty-one, then you can talk to me about smoking weed.”
My response was, “Man, whatever.” I didn’t stop smoking weed.
But beyond the weed discussion, Rick was a huge influence on me and the music I created for my second solo album. I wanted to take a little bit of Michael, a little bit of Prince, and a little bit of Rick, and mash it all up in a ball. That’s the artist I wanted to be. From Prince, it was all about his originality. That was everything to me. And every move he made was cool, mysterious. I wanted to take Rick’s wildness. When I got up on that stage, I wanted it to be like I had been let out of a cage. Growling, stalking, like a wild animal. And with Michael, it was about his precision. His mastery of the craft
That’s where the stigma started.
CHAPTER 3
ON MY OWN
My life changed pretty quickly when I left New Edition. It went from one extreme to the other. My first problem was I didn’t have any money. I was seventeen years old, back in Boston, and I had to figure out what I could do to survive until I made my solo record. So I started selling weed. But that didn’t last long—my brother found out. He was not happy and shut that down right away.
I then started writing and going into the studio and recording as much as possible. I would send songs to people I knew at MCA, and they liked what they heard. MCA had already asked me if I wanted to do a solo album, but I needed some time off from the grueling travel with New Edition. So I went to work on my first solo album, which would fulfill my part of New Edition’s two-album obligation to Jump and Shoot. We called my solo album King of Stage . I’ve always felt that was the most accurate description of my performing talents. I may not be the most gifted singer in the world, but once I got out on that stage I didn’t think anybody could match me. Years later my first wife would try to call me the “King of R & B,” but that was never a title I claimed.
I had a big hit on that first solo album, a song called “Girlfriend” that climbed to number one on the Billboard R & B chart in 1986. I made enough money with that song to move my entire family out of Boston to Los Angeles—my mom, dad, sisters and brother. Everybody moved out west with me. I was fulfilling that vow I made to myself after Jimmy died to get out of the projects—though I had no idea it would all happen so fast.
While it was cool to have a hit song on my first album, I wasn’t even close to satisfied. I wanted to do big things. I had a lot I wanted to say. But nothing could have prepared me for Don’t Be Cruel .
Blowing Up
At one point when New Edition was out on the road, we were touring with the incredible Rick James. I spent a lot of time with him; I was drawn to him like a magnet. How could you not be drawn to Rick James—he was larger than life. I’d always loved his music, ever since those days dancing to my grandmother’s records in her living room. But now he became a very dear friend to me. I learned so much from him, about life, about music, about women.
I would often go into his dressing room before the shows, just to absorb all the knowledge and wisdom I could. He was trying to teach me how to play the bass, that instrument I had always loved, so while we were having our lesson, he’d start talking. When he found out that we were smoking weed on the tour, he got pissed off. He was adamant—he’d say to us, “Don’t ever do drugs, it’ll kill you.” And he’d be smoking a joint while he said it!
We said, “But you smoke it!”
“That doesn’t mean you should smoke it,” he said. “You’re kids. When you get to be twenty-one, then you can talk to me about smoking weed.”
My response was, “Man, whatever.” I didn’t stop smoking weed.
But beyond the weed discussion, Rick was a huge influence on me and the music I created for my second solo album. I wanted to take a little bit of Michael, a little bit of Prince, and a little bit of Rick, and mash it all up in a ball. That’s the artist I wanted to be. From Prince, it was all about his originality. That was everything to me. And every move he made was cool, mysterious. I wanted to take Rick’s wildness. When I got up on that stage, I wanted it to be like I had been let out of a cage. Growling, stalking, like a wild animal. And with Michael, it was about his precision. His mastery of the craft
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