By Jacob Katel
By Karli Evans
By Jose D. Duran
By Pablo Chacon Alvarez
By Kat Bein
By Abel Folgar
By Laurie Charles
The other development was no less memorable, albeit for utterly different reasons. The end of the Seventies also marked the Great Payola Scandal, which shocked the public and rocked the music industry. Although Perry was untouched professionally, the fallout contributed to his departure from the fast lane. "People were offering great amounts of money to get their product on the air," he says. "It was, `Man, get it on this week!' Everything got out of control."
Enter Blue Note. The collector come home.
As proprietors go, Perry is extremely personable, gregarious on all points musical. The majors still call him, Luke Records recently set up a promo at Blue Note, members of NRBQ recently dropped by. As Perry tells his life story, he skips right over the self-aggrandizement. There is something of import to relate, chew on, relive. He is in his glory extending his vitality to the eclectic peoples and titles claiming one another at Blue Note. Arturo Gomez, a DJ on WDNA-FM for the Saturday Night Funk Box, sums it up nicely by saying that Blue Note is like "the St. Peter's of Miami. This is hallowed ground."
From Perry's office then, a mother's nightmare of clutter but a collector's wet dream, with its Marley weekend photos, haphazardly hung gold and platinum discs, an autographed, burlap-wrapped Rastaman Vibration signed "One Love" by Rasta Bob himself, a signed John Fogerty Centerfield poster. It's back to the fray. Perry extends ear and voice to the novice, the atavist surging with each phrase. The first-timer has entered the Perry Universe. He'll be back.