He’d snuck into the front row to see one of his favorite groups perform when the ticket holder arrived. As he marched down the aisle back to the cheap seats he felt a beer can, the one the singer had been holding a moment earlier, land between his shoulder blades and spew its contents on him. Under the mistaken impression that my brother Rick was walking out on the concert Ray Davies snarled “Wha’, you don’t like the show?”

"Hold on a second, would you?" Four minutes later, Herbie Hancock is back on the phone. "Sorry, I'm eating sushi." But no one has ever accused this master musician of lacking a sense of time. Along with an exquisite harmonic language that piles on extended structures without obscuring the gospel triads that were such a strong, early influence, Hancock possesses touch, phrase, and figuration.

He started out as a trumpet player, spent some time on the road with Larry Elgart’s band, and then returned to LA, his hometown, to begin a career in the recording industry. Recent projects include arranging strings for a new Stevie Wonder song, “Passionate Raindrops,” penning four arrangements for Ray Charles’ Genius Loves Company, and a bunch more for American Idol. In between lies a road that stretches for forty years, and a journey that has put David Blumberg in the company of some of the greatest names in the history of popular music.

Steve Tyrell has been a part of the music industry for nearly forty years but there's gas in the tank and open road before him. On the day we spoke Steve was getting ready to welcome All For One and some of the crew from Hanging Up, the new film starring Lisa Kudrow, Meg Ryan and Diane Keaton (who doubles as director) into his studio. The recording session scheduled that night would feature Tyrell singing “Georgia On My Mind” with the young vocal group. More about this aspect of his career in just a minute.

In 1983 Herbie Hancock released the album Future Shock. Rockit, the hit single off that disk, brought a generation of fans who hadn't been aware of Hancock's pioneering work with Miles Davis and other jazz greats into the fold. At a time when most major jazz figures avoided rock and beat box influenced idioms altogether or approached them with ill concealed disdain, Hancock jumped in and had fun.

Marshall Mathers, better known to his legion of fans as Eminem, is the music industry equivalent of basketball star Jason Williams. The Sacramento Kings point guard breaks down racial stereotypes and defenses with razor sharp passes and and a barker's showmanship that's atypical of white players, while Mathers uses withering wit, slamming rhythm and tons of 'tude in a fashion not generally associated with pale faces. Along the way he's forcing hip hop fans and industry insiders to reconsider some fundamental assumptions.