Former Talent Scout Manages the Record Industry Managers

Steve Moir, a long-haired former talent scout who works out of an office in an Encino strip mall, is getting under the skin of the record industry’s top executives.

Artists have long been suspicious of the companies they work for, hiring personal managers to duke it with music executives over money and creative control.

Moir has discovered that many of the mid- and low-level executives mistrust their corporate bosses as much as musicians do those middle executives. He has invented a unique niche managing the careers of these executives.

In the process, some record industry sources say, he has single-handedly transformed the way contract negotiations are conducted and driven up the price of executive talent.

Although this has made Moir one of the industry’s hidden power brokers, it hasn’t made him popular in all quarters.

“Steve Moir’s job is completely self-created,” said one record company chief who requested anonymity. “Before he came up with this concept, nobody ever perceived a need for it. It’s not surprising that artists hire representatives to manage their business. That’s the reason we have a record industry. The entire system is founded on the premise that musicians need companies to manage the marketing, promotion and distribution of their art.

“But the idea that an executive should need a manager is patently absurd,” he continued. “An executive is supposed to be a manager. The job entails managing people and managing budgets and managing negotiations. If an executive has to hire somebody to manage his career, it makes you wonder how good of an executive he actually is.”

Moir now represents dozens of rising executives, including Interscope President Tom Whalley, DreamWorks SKG partner Michael Goldstone, Warner Bros. Records General Manager Jeff Gold and Geffen marketing head Robert Smith.

Moir’s swift ascent speaks volumes about how some executives view their roles in the fast-changing music industry, where discovering and marketing artists are considered as much an art as creating the music itself. In a $40-billion global business in which some company chiefs employ personal publicists to raise their profile in the media, an increasing number of executives have turned to Moir to beef up their contracts and manage their careers.

Record executives typically draw higher salaries than their counterparts in non-entertainment industries. These days, annual salaries can run from as low as $75,000 for a bottom-tier vice president to more than $3 million for a label chairman--not counting bonuses, stock options or expense accounts.

Critics blame Moir for inflating the price of executive salaries over the last three years by shopping executives to competing firms--a tactic borrowed from the artistic world in which managers have long used bidding wars to boost the value of a recording act. Some critics also accuse Moir of duping clients by taking credit for the outcome of negotiations that he had little to do with.

Moir, a soft-spoken man in his mid-40s, has developed a reputation among clients as a discreet confidant. He avoids having his photograph taken and does not talk to reporters, friends say, because he believes he can be more effective as a manager for his clients by operating quietly behind the scenes. Moir declined numerous requests to be interviewed for this story and refused to provide a photo.

Moir entered the record business in the late 1970s, working in the publishing and artist and repertoire divisions of Chrysalis Records. About 1984, he was hired as a talent scout for MCA Records, where his career was unremarkable outside of signing teeny-bop pop sensation Tiffany, sources said.

In the late 1980s, he quit talent scouting to manage record producers--a field with few competitors. While representing producers, Moir encountered many talent scouts and eventually began to also manage their careers. His dealings with producers and talent scouts led him to come into contact with numerous low-level record executives, whom he also began courting as clients.

His management company, which is housed in a small third-story office in a strip mall on Ventura Boulevard, handles the careers of more than 50 executives and producers, sources close to Moir say. He also runs a tiny artist management firm in Santa Monica, with partner Gary Borman, that represents just two recording acts: Garbage and MC 900 Foot Jesus.

In the past, the industry’s top record chiefs have hired powerful law firms and accounting companies to extract the best possible deals during contract renegotiations with the conglomerates for whom they work. But lower-level executives have long been left to fend for themselves.

Moir has no legal or accounting background and his clients are required to retain an attorney to translate negotiated deal points into the proper legal documents. But supporters say he has been able to secure surprising results.

Moir’s negotiating style, supporters say, has forced record companies to raise salaries for low-level officials who frequently do much of the work for which the top executives and corporate bosses take credit.

In deals where money isn’t the primary concern, sources say, Moir has been able to exact unique concessions that can satisfy a specific client’s career strategy.

“It’s an ugly corporate world out there, and my interests may no longer exactly line up with the interests of my boss,” said one Moir client, who requested anonymity. “I see Steve as a buffer between me and the corporation, a comfort zone. He looks out for my future. He’s honest and fair, and he operates like a stealth bomber. Steve makes me feel protected.”

Supporters say Moir played a pivotal role in the recent battle for the services of Tom Whalley, the coveted executive who helped Interscope co-founders Jimmy Iovine and Ted Field build their tiny Westwood label into an industry powerhouse. After Whalley’s contract with Interscope expired in April, Moir quietly negotiated a multimillion-dollar deal for Whalley to run Walt Disney Co.’s Hollywood Records division. Whalley ultimately rejected Disney’s proposal and re-signed with Interscope to a five-year deal that beefed up his annual salary and expanded his equity position at the hot label, sources said.

Besides negotiating contracts, Moir also provides each of his clients with personal counsel and career advice over the course of their employment contract, which typically run from three to five years.

For his services, Moir charges clients between 2.5% and 5% of each compensation package he negotiates, sources said. That fee is significantly less than the 10% share most movie agents and artist managers charge their clients. Moir pockets not only a portion of each executive’s wage, but also a slice of any bonus, stock option or other perk paid to the client during the course of the contract.

Moir’s executive management concept may pay off in another way. In recent months, he has started cashing in on record company acquisitions.

In July, Moir helped Mammoth Records owner Jay Faires sell his tiny independent label to Disney for $25 million. Last month, he was hired by Almo Sound owners Jerry Moss and Herb Alpert to help shop their fledgling label to potential suitors. It’s not known what fee Moir charged for those transactions.

Moir and Borman also manage Almo’s hottest rock act, Garbage--which has raised questions even in an industry that often appears riddled with conflicts of interest. Even some of Moir’s biggest fans wonder how he will deal with potential conflicts as his booming practice expands to include more executives and possibly the companies for whom they work.

“What you’re talking about here is a very shrewd guy who has access to a tremendous amount of privileged information,” said one record company chief. “Whether you consider this management niche he has invented to be valid or not, there is no doubt that Steve Moir has a lot of clout. It will be interesting to watch what he does with it.”