one weekday afternoon this month, a man walked into the ace hotel’s breslin bar & dining room and ordered a guinness with a patrón silver, chilled. they didn’t have that. would a partida blanco do? it would.
jeffrey rabhan, 40, the new chair of new york university’s clive davis department of recorded music, was there to do business with the restaurant’s owner, ken friedman. they’re both music managers who’ve moved on to other things. mr. friedman asked for an iced coffee, but once mr. rabhan’s beer and tequila came, the restaurateur ordered that instead. why not? in his beautiful booth in his beautiful restaurant, he showed off hidden phone chargers. “i’m the artist here,” he said. “in a way, the chef’s really the artist, but i’m the producer, i guess.”
they drank the tequila. “i would love,” mr. rabhan said, “i would love to have you on the board.” the department’s advisory board now has about a dozen people.
“great,” mr. friedman said before he finished. “i would love it.”
“at the risk of sounding crass, i’m trying to fill roles: advice, money, contacts. you’re all of the above,” he said. mr. rabhan, enthusiastic and well groomed, has the air of a man who is going to be doing something interesting with interesting people later in the hour. but mr. friedman, relaxed and mussed, looks like he just came from somewhere. before restaurants, he managed the smiths. jay-z is one of his investors, and a friend.
mr. rabhan discovered hanson and michelle branch, and managed kelly clarkson. “and you give us some street cred, some new york city cred,” he continued. “if you want to make a donation, that’s great.” mr. friedman nodded. “what i would ask you for is introductions,” mr. rabhan concluded. “i wouldn’t ask for help with jay.”
“i’d be honored to do that,” he said. he suggested he could host a party for the department in the hotel. “see, if i did something like that? i could get jay,” he said. “here’s the thing, we control all the spaces.” lady starlight, lady gaga’s dj, happens to be doing punk rock brunches there, for example. “it was her idea. we can just do it. what the fuck.”
mr. rabhan wondered about a recorded music fund-raiser. “instead of rubber chicken at a midtown hotel—”
“do good food at a hip hotel,” mr. friedman interrupted.
“i’m jumping up and down,” mr. rabhan said.
mr. friedman hinted there could even be some sort of weekly clive davis school of music night.
“does that fit the brand?” mr. rabhan asked, meaning that the breslin would maybe be too awesome for that. he was being modest. his program, which he took over in january, and was inaugurated only seven years ago, is basically the most interesting business school in the city right now—except, instead of teaching economics, swizz beatz will be giving production lessons next semester.
it’s also one of the most singular music programs, although its new chair would not know the minor scale from the mixolydian mode if it bit him on his strong nose. in fact, he cannot read music at all. at the clive davis department of recorded music, that is not a problem. “in short,” its web site says, “we are the premier training ground for future music moguls.”
read more, please, at the new york observer’s website (or in this morning’s paper)
(and afterward you can try this brief follow-up, if you’re interested)
