Oh, Happy J

Image credit: Clive Davis: Platon

CLIVE WIRE Davis' polymathic taste ranges from R&B (Vandross) to boy bands (LFO)

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Alicia Keys

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The launch of Alicia Keys is the clearest example of Davis' all-encompassing desire to succeed. At 20, Keys is a veteran of one aborted deal (at Columbia). As a teenager attending a New York performing-arts high school, she loved both classical piano and hip-hop. In 1998, Arista executive Peter Edge screened a tape of a Keys show for Davis. ''I knew what he was looking for and lined it up,'' recalls Edge. ''He wants stars.'' Keys, whose exotic looks stem from her half-Italian-American, half-African-American pedigree, met Davis that year. ''He had this big office with this big oak desk and it was all shiny,'' she recalls. ''And he had all these pictures on the wall of him and artists -- Earth, Wind & Fire; Janet Jackson; Miles Davis.'' Only then did Keys realize that the man sitting before her had a career that preceded his recent work with Monica and Biggie Smalls. At Davis' Pound Ridge, N.Y., estate last year, after Keys' Arista contract had been transferred to J, he and his staff began mapping out a plan to make her a contender. Although her album was still unfinished, Davis had Keys perform at a radio convention last October. Then came one event after another designed to ingratiate her to the industry: early-2001 private club showcases in New York and L.A. for press, video and radio execs, as well as a performance slot at Davis' Grammy party. (The result: a booking on ''The Tonight Show.'') The $450,000 video for ''Fallin''' then went to BET, MTV, and VH1 brass. In May, the label rented out W Hotel suites in a half-dozen major cities and invited media and retail types to hear Keys sing and have photos taken with her.

When Keys' album was released June 26, both the industry and the public had been ingeniously primed. In its first week, the record, with its blend of mild hip-hop and balladry, sold 236,000 copies, enough to enter at No. 1. If that wasn't surprising enough, Keys' album then fended off the debut of Eminem's side project D12 to hold on to that slot for two more weeks. An Internet rumor claimed Davis ordered his staff to buy two copies each of the album. J execs dismiss the story as industry jealousy. Both seem plausible.

Schedules again in hand, various staffers hunker down in J's dark-brown windowless conference room to finalize the summer and fall release schedule. Rhymes' unveiling needs to be bumped, partly because Jay-Z's album may be out the same day. Neo-soul diva-to-be Angie Stone's anticipated second disc is also pushed back; she's still recording. LFO's sophomore effort is stalling on the charts, so it's decided to forgo a commercial single. ''We need to sell some albums,'' says VP Tom Corson. A remix of Vandross' ''Take You Out'' includes a chunk of a Snoop Dogg track, so the songwriters, including Snoop and Dre, need to sign off on it -- if only someone can find them. ''It's hip-hop,'' shrugs VP Ron Gillyard. ''Dre will get to it when he gets to it.'' Besides, he cracks, ''Snoop's in gin-and-juice mode.''

There is no time for celebration -- well, perhaps a little. In late spring, the J staff is set to congregate for a daylong presentation of new releases. But even Davis knows all work and no play makes Jack a tired boy, so the day before, he invites department heads to his estate for some R&R. They take in the main house with the marble floors and framed Picasso, the guest quarters with the minitheater, the tennis courts. Over lunch, Davis and his inner circle chew over not just lobster salad but the standings of certain projects -- like Soil, a Chicago band that marks J's entry into the bellow-rock sweepstakes. Davis is eager to remind us that Arista was also home to Patti Smith and the Grateful Dead. So, Soil's single, ''Halo,'' is already being pitched to radio months before their album drops. With J hard at work, prepare to start hearing ''Halo.'' Soon. A lot. As the afternoon sun peaks, one executive informs Davis that Jimmy Cozier's single is the most requested at New York's WBLS. ''Great. Wow,'' Davis says. Then the exec glances at the basketball game in progress in Davis' driveway and says, ''There are gonna be a lot of sore people tomorrow morning.'' Looking over, Davis squints. ''Yeah,'' he replies, ''and we have to start early, too. We have a lot of music to listen to.''