We Are the World

In this episode – We Are The World . . .

“I lived less than three blocks away from A&M studios and didn’t even know what was happening,” Lori said to me while we watched the recently released Netflix special “The Greatest Night in Pop” - the documentary of the making of “We Are the World.”

"Check Your EGO At The Door!" Read the sign posted by Quincy Jones.

“We Are the World” is a 1985 charity single for African famine relief that included the voices of Michael Jackson, Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan, Ray Charles, Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, Paul Simon, Tina Turner, Dionne Warwick, Lionel Richie, Billy Joel and Bruce Springsteen.

The Greatest Night in Pop is the story of how it all came together, told by the people who made it happen, including the camera crew, engineers, assistants, and musicians like Lionel Richie, who served as an executive producer of the film. And despite its popularity, there are still origin stories that you probably didn’t know.

Written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, the song was co-produced by Quincy Jones, and all came together with a large ensemble of popular musicians and artists under the name USA for Africa to perform the song. The recording occurred the night of January 28, 1985, and the single was released on March 7, 1985.

Have you ever wondered how two creative artists like Lionel Richie and Michael Jackson write a song together? The process they used was fascinating to watch. Richie began by tapping out a rhythm, while Jackson filled in the song by humming the tune, even though no lyrics had been written.

“We Are the World" is a charity single recorded by the supergroup USA for Africa. Its main objective was to raise funds for humanitarian aid to Africa, specifically to alleviate famine in Ethiopia. This single was a huge success commercially and in raising awareness and funds for the cause. It raised over $75 million for humanitarian aid in Africa. The funds were distributed to various organizations working to combat hunger and poverty in the region.

If you don’t recall this release, please follow the link provided to watch the video. It's amazing how tapping out such a simple tune can have such a powerful impact on the world. That’s the power of music!

I'm Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

On Becoming Real

Some things get better with wear: old shoes, old friendships, and old books. Especially old books. A new volume arrives with crisp corners and a spine that hasn’t yet learned to bend. An old one has been somewhere. It has traveled through time in the hands of people who may no longer be around to tell us what they found inside. The copy of The Velveteen Rabbit (first published in 1922) on my desk is one of those books. My friend Don Hanley gave it to me. This late-1950s Doubleday edition features William Nicholson’s original illustrations and cream paper boards softened by age. Worn corners, a split spine, and colored tabs mark passages worth revisiting. Don didn’t hand me a keepsake. He gave me homework. When we talked about the book recently, he pointed me straight to the nursery conversation between a young rabbit and an old Skin Horse. The rabbit had noticed the mechanical toys around him—the ones with internal gears, bright paint, and stick-out handles that seem terribly impressiv...

The Gopher Problem and the High Powered Solution

Vacationing in Maine this week, just a short drive down the coast from Freeport, it is hard not to think about the outsized impact one frustrated outdoorsman had on the gear we all use today. Bad equipment can ruin a perfectly good day on the water or the trail, but it takes a special kind of vision to turn cold feet into a century-old empire. This is the story of the company we now know as L.L.Bean, but more importantly, it is a masterclass in integrity, learning from failure, and standing behind your work. In 1912, Leon Leonwood Bean faced a persistent problem: returning from expeditions in the Maine woods with cold, wet feet. Instead of complaining, he got creative. He had a local shoemaker stitch waterproof rubber soles onto the flexible leather uppers of a hunting boot. He called it the Maine Hunting Shoe and mailed a flyer promising perfect satisfaction. Then reality arrived. Ninety of his first 100 pairs failed when the rubber separated from the leather. Not an effective product...

Engineering Beef Stew

On July 2nd—Day Two of what I call The Great Un-Working —I sat down with my morning notebook to map out this new chapter of my life. One goal made the list in bold ink: Learn to Cook. At seventy, I was adding a skill most people master before they’re old enough to drive. Before you judge me, understand our household ecosystem. Lori is a phenomenal cook. For decades, she’s made meals so effortless and delicious that restaurants seem unsatisfying . My contribution to the culinary arts during my bachelor years–tuna mixed into Kraft Mac & Cheese. Let’s just say I wasn’t threatening her spot on the Food Network. But retirement changed the equation. I’m officially off the clock while Lori is still working. And I had a lovely thought: Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she came home after a long day to find dinner waiting? She loved the idea. Then came the question that haunted me for weeks: “What do you want to make?” I had no idea. Apparently, the first step in learning to cook is deciding wh...

When the Universe Calls in Sick

Take Thoreau’s Advice . . . Four weeks ago, we stood on the shore of Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts, trying to channel Henry David Thoreau. Before leaving, I bought a pocket-sized copy of his essay, Walking . It’s slim because nineteenth-century transcendentalists didn’t have notifications interrupting their urge to wander. Thoreau’s counsel is disarmingly simple: step away from modern life's machinery and let the landscape recalibrate your perspective. Back home in Vista, I took that philosophy straight into the backyard. Thursday morning, ink-black, pristine skies arrived. I aimed my refractor at Jupiter, whose light has bathed Earth since mastodons roamed the plains. It felt cosmic. Profound . I left the telescope mounted overnight, convinced the heavens were on retainer for an encore at daybreak. Naturally, the universe called in sick. By sunrise, a wall of coastal fog had rolled in off the Pacific, sealing the valleys beneath a damp, gray Tupperware lid. After about th...

On The Fly

Search This Blog