Rick O’Brien, who bequeathed his nickname to the show we now call “The Parnellis,” would be astonished to look back on its 20-year history. Ever the student of baseball, he would probably pronounce it an industry no-hitter. For some, it’s about bringing the plaques back to the office, for others, a night of drinking and bonding interrupted by a bunch of speeches. For others it’s a job fair.
It is fitting that Rick’s strongest influences — Gerry Stickells, Brian Croft and Chris Lamb — were amongst the first Lifetime Achievement honorees. He would be shocked to see the shift from sharing a San Diego restaurant with a bunch of punters to selling out a ballroom without partitions. He would surely get a kick out of observing the stage fright that comes from speaking to 700 industry peers, who have temporarily muted their cell phones to hear your life story.
The term “board meeting” is without a doubt a bit too grown up to describe the haphazard gatherings at Patrick Stansfield’s house at the turn of the millennium. The nomination process was marginally more democratic than that of a small African country. The voting protocols came later, along with a slew of additional awards that, like your waistline, threaten to expand. Despite that, the right people received the right stuff. The earliest honorees fell into the “no brainer” category. Lighting Woodstock, breaking the Rolling Stones in South America, or creating the first concert lighting company were sure-fire backstage passes into the newly formed Parnelli pantheon.
Thank you to the board members past and present who are tasked with nominations in the three major categories. The bar is set high — legends and innovators are an endangered species. Just getting past the 4 H’s (Humanity , Humility, Honesty , and Humor) set by awards co-founder the late Patrick Stansfield, is tough enough. Throw in the element of peer endorsement, and it starts to look like the rock ‘n’ roll Nobels.
No task is harder than finding a suitable host for the show, ever since Keith Kevan (remember him?) was fired by the good taste police. Each year, the names of rock luminaries are pitched breathlessly. “I have a friend whose roommate was Joe Walsh’s guitar tech,” says one. “I’m sure we can get Jackson Browne next year — my sister-in-law is his neighbor,” says another. Somehow, from the mire of dashed hopes and unreturned phone calls, despite the best efforts of agents and managers, a host emerges, and we’ve had some doozies. Who can forget Alice Cooper’s exit line: “This is the longest I’ve been onstage without blood;” or Tom Petty’s heartfelt paean to Richard Fernandez and the industry we all love? Let’s not leave out Micky Dolenz’s Bloody Mary fueled stories of the 60’s and Adrian Belew’s ouster by stage manager Jeff Van Duyn. Paul Anka serenaded Al Siniscal, Kenny Chesney high fived Ed Wannebo, Brooks and Dunn sat through the whole show and Garth Brooks gave Michael Strickland a near heart attack.
So how far have we come? The shows are slicker, the drugs are cheaper (but less popular), and now we read spreadsheets more than tour itineraries. What hasn’t changed is the buzz in the room at cocktail hour before the doors open on another Parnelli dinner. Let’s all look forward to that joyous moment.
—Marshall Bissett, TMB Founder; Parnelli Awards Board Chairman
