'I had to ask myself
'Do I want to be known as 'Stevie's man', or do I want to carve a niche of my own?"
him out (while being demoted back to promotions) as he's settling in?' I almost had to laugh.
Mo: By this point it became clear to you that in the UK at least, there was no progression for Black people in the record industry. Did this make it an easier decision to move to the States to work with Stevie?
Keith: In a way I was lucky that it was so overt. Racism is often more subtle, you don't really get the message and it causes you to waste time. I met Stevie in 1977 when he and Yolanda needed someone to show him around London. We were a year apart in age, and really hit it off. He asked me to come work for him then, but I took it with a pinch of salt, as I'd heard it from American artists before. Once he went back to the States, we'd talk regularly on the phone, and he'd mention it every time. Being honest, I was scared. America was a long way away in those days, and all we knew from over here was that it was a tough place for Black people. But after that second direct snub, I took the leap and called him up.
Mo: The American music industry certainly hadn't eradicated racism, but it was a world where Black people had power, particularly at a label like Motown, and particularly for an artist like Stevie. It must have been a welcome change.
Keith: Berry Gordy was a visionary in a lot of ways. Not only as a songwriter and a businessman, but he truly believed in the right person for the right job. As well as Black people, there were a lot of women in senior positions at Motown, which just didn't happen in those days. He, and Smokey and Stevie laid the foundation for so much that followed.
Mo: You spent four years as part of Stevie's inner circle, a period of great critical and commercial success. I'm sure we could fill an entire article with Stevie stories, but I wanted to ask you about something your niece Remi (Harris MBE) mentioned. You were involved in the campaign to make Martin Luther King's birthday a national holiday, and the global smash it produced in Happy Birthday. What was it like to be part of such a historic moment?
Keith: Having Stevie on my arm, quite literally a lot of the time, gave me access to the highest tier of Black American society. It was an amazing learning experience. I remember when he called me to say he'd had the idea to resurrect the MLK campaign, I thought it was a great idea but I didn't expect him to then ask me to help organise it!
The next year and a half was dedicated to strategising. alongside Ewart Abner (former Motown president and part of Stevie's circle), Rev. Jesse Jackson and Martin's wife Coretta Scott King. I didn't have time to think about the historical impact of travelling to DC for meetings, or being in the presence of such great people, but I do remember advising him to use the inner sleeve of the vinyl to spread the central message. Alongside a picture of Martin, and of the civil rights riots, there's a real call to arms, in a similar vein to Martin's speeches (that featured on the B side).
In any campaign for equality, you need allies. Getting Black and white people together was very important, and Stevie's fans cross all sections of society, so there was no better method. That message was the centrepiece of the campaign, and I'm proud to say that I helped create it.
Mo: What was the catalyst to leave the States and come home to start your own management company? Keith: By this point I'd become central to Stevie's operations, but I had to ask myself 'Do I want to be known as 'Stevie's man', or do I want to carve a niche of my own?' I wanted to see if I could use what I'd learned to have an influence in the UK, which was still my home. I served my notice with Stevie and came back on Christmas Day 1981. I don't think anyone had left him before, so he was quite shocked. Luckily, we have a strong friendship and I still work with him whenever he's in Britain. I didn't have anything planned, but I was willing to go back to square one to start something of my own.
Mo: The UK in the '80s was a real struggle for Black British artists. I've heard you discuss previously about building a Black economy, based around pirate radio, independent shops and live events. Talk to me about that experience. Keith: Back then we felt there was one rule for Black artists and another for (white) pop artists. If a pop artist had a hit, radio automatically supported their next release, with airplay and exposure. That didn't happen for Black artists. We'd release a record and no matter how good it was or how well it did, we'd be back to square one. This was alongside the 'one at a time' policy, if there was already a UK R&B group, or Black female singer, there couldn't be another one. It was a huge frustration because talent-wise, we were at least the equal of those pop artists, but no one was listening.
Erskine Thompson had been working at building that platform for Black artists long before I arrived, and he taught a lot of us how to do it. He was a DJ on BRMB but also worked for Island records and had the connections to bring it all together. There was also Wilf Walker - the first Black promoter- and the British Black Music Association, run by Root Jackson & Byron Lye-Fook (Omar's father) who built a Black music network, and ran seminars for Black people in the industry. I spoke at a lot of those, and