Celine Dion takes on America

From David Foster's perspective, Spector failed to take one thing in particular into account: David Foster. ‘‘He comes out saying that this is the project that he's chosen for his comeback, as if the rest of us have nothing to do with it,’‘ Foster says. ‘‘That's a little pompous.’‘

Indeed, clashes over how the record should sound may have put the sessions on ice. After a protracted effort to reach Spector for comment, ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY received a three-page fax from him — one of only a handful of public statements he has issued in 16 years of reclusion. Spector — a man famous for obsessing over every facet of the studio process — offers lavish praise for ‘‘the extraordinary talent of Ms. Celine Dion’‘ but says he backed out when he got the sense that her handlers ‘‘simply wanted to record 'hits' even if they were contrived and repugnant — or nothing more than Whitney Houston- and Mariah Carey-rejected, soundalike songs and records.’‘ Spector says he didn't want to remake ‘‘River Deep,’‘ nor did he yearn to rub elbows with other producers — people he calls ‘‘amateurs, students, and bad clones of yours truly.’‘ (Steinman's retort? ‘‘I'm thrilled to be insulted by Phil Spector. He's my God, my idol. To be insulted by Phil Spector is a big honor. If he spits on me I consider myself purified.’‘)

‘‘It became apparent,’‘ Spector goes on, ‘‘that the people around Ms. Dion were more interested in controlling the project, and the people who recorded her, than making history.’‘ As for the tapes — tapes the mysterious producer predicts ‘‘should put her on the covers of both TIME and Newsweek magazines’‘ — Spector vows to release them. ‘‘Should you wish to hear the amazing and historic recordings I made with Ms. Dion,’‘ he writes, ‘‘have no fear, because you will. I am presently finishing them up, and since I paid for them, and own them, I am planning to release them on my label, for the entire world to hear, and compare to her current recordings, or whatever you call those things they've released.’‘

Spector saves a final flourish for Dion's management team. ‘‘One thing they should have learned a long time ago,’‘ he says. ‘‘You don't tell Shakespeare what plays to write, or how to write them. You don't tell Mozart what operas to write, or how to write them. And you certainly don't tell Phil Spector what songs to write, or how to write them; or what records to produce, or how to produce them.’‘

It's Wednesday, two days after the Tonight Show appearance, and Dion's weeklong promotional blitz has reached its finale. Backstage at the Pantages Theater in Los Angeles, she runs through a handful of high notes, rubs her throat, frowns. Seconds ago, ‘‘Because You Loved Me’‘ brought the house down at the Blockbuster Awards. The applause keeps coming, the stage director keeps mouthing the word beautiful, but the singer looks glum. ‘‘I'm a little tired,’‘ she says. ‘‘I'm afraid I did not have my full capacity.’‘

No time to brood. Unfettered by doubt, Dion exits the Pantages and makes a beeline for a fence where about 50 fans are lined up for autographs. ‘‘She always does this,’‘ laughs tour manager Suzanne Gingue. All day, movie stars have rushed by with nary a glance at these fans, but Dion stops. She signs books, records, pads, hands, the sleeve of someone's red silk shirt. After being thwarted and ignored all afternoon, the crowd isn't sure how to respond, but Dion presses forward, leaving her mark on everything in sight. Then she does something that divas — even burgeoning ones — aren't supposed to do: She searches the crowd for more.