1. Before the famous artist arrives, make sure your studio is clean, but not pristine. Make a little effort, but nothing that says, “You deserve the Everlasting Gobstopper of cleaning products.” I’m a slob myself, so given that my studio is a fuckin’ dump, I’ve often taken a casual approach instead of a spotless one. Truthfully, though, I’m not so sure my layers of dust have ever been a good first impression for me in any way whatsoever.

2. When the famous artist waltzes through the door, look enthused, but not creepily overeager. Don’t just stand there; do something. Remember, starstruck = death. The music illuminati have been blessed with guard dog–like nostrils that can sniff out thirst a mile away! If you lock eyes and slobber in a creepy manner one too many times, you’re done before the first chord is played.

4. If and when you decide to openly profess your love for the famous artist’s body of work, always shout out a B-side or a slept-on track as your personal favorite. NEVER harp on their hit! Don’t let the outcome of my Clive Davis meeting fool you. Only a rookie spotlights the smash. Shall we press on?

5. When you commence the writing process, in hour one it’s imperative to reassure the famous artist that their creative input is “really great,” even when it’s wack as fuck. So shines a good deed in a weary world. Honesty is a wonderful virtue and all, but you haven’t arrived there yet in your bond. Do not crush the most fragile of egos until you’ve built up a layer of trust.

6. You? You have nothing to fear, though. You’ve totally earned this moment, so don’t take a passive approach with the famous artist. Let the others wilt in the star’s intimidating presence. When I started out, the great Nile Rodgers taught me to attack every celebrity session with the furious pen of a screenwriter crafting the artist’s sequel. Quite possibly the best advice I ever received. Immediately start guiding the famous artist’s next musical transition with your very own script! The more you provide this cat with an original path, the more respect and admiration you’ll earn. It’s the only way if you want it just right.

7. Like a storyteller stepping to the mic at The Moth for the very first time, you must bring your absolute “A” game. Time is a precious thing. Never waste it. Tons of preparation is a must. There’s little wiggle room for complacency in songwriting as it is, but on this day more than any other, you better come correct. It’s tough to construct your ark when the flood has already begun!

8. Many famous artists are professional charmers, but there’s no earthly way of knowing which direction they are going. They’re masters at the art of fabricating camaraderie, so there’s a high probability that they will never become your real homie. On a good day, you just might have to face the fact that you only made a “glorified acquaintance,” but think about it: that’s not a complete whiff! As long as you receive a phone number or a social media follow at the end of the session, you did good! You’ll still be able to pull a dinner-party flex on your non-industry friends by sending a friendly text to the famous artist—and who knows, you might even get a response!

9. Okay, truth is, a few of these famous artists are just dicks. Plain and simple. If you happen to get one, send ’em where all the other bad eggs go: down the garbage chute. Don’t waste your time trying to game the outcome. Give it a solid hour or so, and then fake a pulled hamstring or some shit and send them on their not-so-merry way. Personally, I’ve found famous-artist dicks to be more of an exception than rule, but if you happen to land that occasional asshole, don’t let it smother your confidence. It’s not you; it’s them.

10. And in turn, some famous artists are absolutely wonderful. Kind, decent, selfless, first class. They’ll exceed your each and every expectation. When you deal with a real one, trust me, it’s a musical lock!

Donna Summer

Toward the end of our run together, Duke Mushroom and I got to write a couple of songs with the Queen of Disco and our pal Mike Mangini. Those Donna sessions were hilarious. We laughed our collective faces off for three days straight. Sadly, neither of the resulting tunes were particularly special, and the label rightfully left them out with the cake in MacArthur Park. A couple of years later, though, I got a 9 pm, completely out-of-the-blue call from Donna asking me if I’d be down to roll by the Hit Factory studios on Fifty-Fourth Street so she could play me some new ideas she’d been shedding. Me? Really? In all sincerity, I didn’t even think she had my phone number. But ten minutes later, Donna sent a town car to my spot that shuttled me uptown to the room where she was camped out. When I walked through the door, she greeted me with the biggest hug ever.

I asked why she’d reached out to me of all people, as opposed to someone she’d actually had a biscuit of success with. She replied, “Because I loved your vibe and I thought you were real cool.” How insane is that? Making a real impression on an artist is so crucial. Even if your song doesn’t see the light of day, you’ve left the gate open to connect again.

That night, Donna and I proceeded to bug out for hours. She was so generous and funny, and her new tunes were fabulous too. And then, when the clock struck midnight, I gave her a farewell hug and cabbed my ass back home. Sadly, that was our Last Dance. She passed a few years later, but I’m forever grateful for those few hours I spent loitering in the Queen’s court. She was the shit.

Jewel

Jewel was an absolute sweetheart and complete beast in the studio. Mega talented. She had an unrivaled work ethic with zero fear of a fourteen-hour session. Obviously, she was totally self-contained as a writer, but wide open to collaboration as well. She usually started songs over sparse changes; then, once lyric phrases began to develop, she’d develop them chordally from there. She meticulously freestyled melodies until the right lyric grabbed her. That’s when the structure took place, and the resulting song flowed ridiculously easily. In sum, we probably logged a couple of weeks writing together. Couldn’t have dug her more.

Q-Tip

One evening, I actually got to throw down with Q-Tip, courtesy of my pal Ron Perry (now Columbia Records chairman and CEO). We wrote a Chiddy Bang tune and discussed obscure jazz and rock samples and all sorts of record nerd shit. That night was so amazing, in fact, that as we wrapped, he invited me to catch his impromptu DJ set at some Flatiron hipster spot later that same evening. When I landed in front of the guest-list clipboard toter, I learned Tip had generously reserved me a VIP booth. A few minutes later, he entered the room with a tray of celebratory shots. Collaborating with one of my biggest peer musical inspirations was pretty surreal. Drinking Flaming Dr Peppers with him was even weirder. Feeling that I actually belonged in that room? That was priceless.

If the famous artist is a lead singer of a band, that means that, ninety-nine times out of one hundred, they are the ruling czar in the group’s creative palace. Since the singer has most likely been the group’s primary writer to date, they will fight to the death to keep the dynamic as is. He or she will never risk throwing the balance off axis. That’s why you should always pass when you get a call from a label offering you the opportunity to work with the singer’s bandmates sans the singer. The front person will always reject all songs written by the rest of the members without their involvement. It happens every time; they all become blueberries! Honestly, a complete outsider, a significant other, or a groupie has a better shot at landing a song on the record than the group’s very own rhythm section!