Over the next year Terje Fjelde has agreed to listen to nothing but David Foster on his iPod. He’s loaded the thing with over 1,200 songs produced, arranged, composed, and/or played by David Foster. A deal with the devil? He keeps wondering.

I received the new David Foster CD/DVD in the mail yesterday along with his autobiography, Hitman! Forty Years of Making Music, Topping Charts & Winning Grammys.

I wasn’t ecstatic in any way - I jumped up and down a couple of times and did a pirouette in front of my bewildered wife - nothing major. The CD concept was a bit of a disappointment — no studio recordings, merely a selection of audio files from the PBS Special Tribute Concert featured on the DVD. I didn’t expect this Vegas extravaganza to affect me in any way, and a small part of me didn’t even want to see it. After all, what could Eric Benet, Michael Johns, or Katharine McPhee bring to the table? Sure, I used to adore David Foster, but I’m not that guy anymore - I haven’t been for the past 15 years. David Foster’s syrupy ballads doesn’t move my heart these days; John Coltrane and Bill Evans do.

And even though I always tell people I’m so uncool, it’s really just a way to downplay people’s expectations. I’m secretly convinced that I’m about the coolest person on this side of the North Pole. I have a giant ego and no doubt a seriously disturbed positive self-image. And most importantly, David Foster, Peter Cetera or “I Swear” have no place whatsoever in this delusion. So, when I sat down to watch the DVD, I was prepared to laugh at Peter Cetera’s spasmodic performance jerks. I was prepared to tsk and groan in despair as this poperatic catastrophe evolved before my eyes and ears.

Then something funny happened. I was about to turn away as Kenny G entered the picture two minutes into the concert, but once again the seductive tones of “Love Theme from St. Elmo’s Fire” had me transfixed. I suddenly took in the beautiful autumn leaves flowing over the background screen, I found myself smiling at Foster’s playful glances at his audience. And good, old Kenny G — he looked pretty great for a 52-year-old, didn’t he? NO! I did not think that thought! But I did. (more…)

Over the next year Terje Fjelde has agreed to listen to nothing but David Foster on his iPod. He’s loaded the thing with over 1,200 songs produced, arranged, composed, and/or played by David Foster. A deal with the devil? He keeps wondering.

I’m procrastinating. I really don’t want to think about David Foster today, Neither do you, of course, but I’m bound by my promise to write about the guy every week for a year, so I’m kinda stuck here.

The weather’s really beautiful — and that rarely ever occurs in Norwegian summertime. I’m hangin’ out with my friends and family by the mountainside, and all I really want to do is to join them for a beer or maybe play some soccer - but I’m stuck in my room with freakin’ David Foster. Am I sensing fatigue? Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s just a phase. I’ll be back at the top of my game next week, I promise — when the weather has returned to its usual cold, grey self. Autumn is just around the corner.

Anyway, we’ve covered the ’70s pretty well so far, wouldn’t you agree? It’s worth mentioning that Foster’s career got its first big boost in 1979, when he won a Grammy for co-writing Earth, Wind & Fire’s “After the Love Is Gone” with Jay Graydon and Bill Champlin. This award set him up for all kinds of wonderful adventures in sound as the ’80s dawned, but I figure everyone knows the tune, so we’ll just skip it gently. (more…)