Eulogy for Foz

Eulogy for Barry Fasman

By Molly-Ann Leikin

During my scuffling days, when I zigged and zagged around Hollywood in a dented red VW with a leaky sunroof, the good people at ASCAP introduced me to lots of possible writing partners.  One of them was Barry Fasman.

At his woodsy home in Laurel Canyon, we wrote one song, In Care of the West Wind.  It was gorgeous.  We both cried because it was so emotional, as only a Fasman melody could be.  But then our demo disappeared.  Bam.  Gone, and Barry got a gig producing Dusty Springfield, who, ironically, had just cut one of my other songs.

I always wondered where our demo went.  And why we never wrote song two.   

Three decades later, Ellis Sorkin re-introduced me to Barry, now the producer, who arranged all my songs and tracks, making great records for me, for fifteen years.  He found my missing chords, but would never accept co-writing credit.  That was the Foz.   

Nobody knows this, but several years ago, I was stricken with a horrific foot thing, keeping me in bed and unable to walk for two years.  When I couldn’t fight anymore, Foz insisted I call him every morning at 5:30 so we could meditate together.  I know that’s what healed me.   

I wish I could have done the same for you, Foz.  All of us do.  But your string lines and melodies are always floating around us, like a shining cape.  And as long as we’re singing, you’ll never be gone.

I’m sure everybody in Rock ‘n Roll Heaven is happy to have you conduct the band.  But during your next ten, could you ask around for our demo of In Care of the West Wind?

Start with the chorus:    

I wrote to you in care of the west wind

I wrote it at midnight

Crying out to the sea

And though the wind has been back every night

There’s never an answer for me.

‘Bye, Foz.  I miss you more than Snickers.

Love,

Molly