Music mogul wants EMI on world stage

THEY make a good pairing, Eric Nicoli, chairman of EMI, and Alain Levy, head of the company's recorded music division. Balding and mean-looking Nicoli is the bustling boss, talking 19 to the dozen. Tousle-haired Levy is more softly spoken, French, but equally resolute.

It's as if they've both got something to prove. We meet for lunch at EMI's Kensington headquarters and over a big bowl of chicken salad, no starter, no pudding, they kick the behinds of anyone and everyone in the music business. Nicoli, the former chief executive of a biscuit company whom the luvvies have never quite taken to; Levy, who once ran PolyGram and resigned when it was sold because he wanted to keep the top job for himself.

There's no doubting their aggression or ambition. They want to pitch EMI up with the big boys who dominate the sector: Time Warner, Sony, Bertelsmann, Vivendi. Unlike them, EMI's business is solely music and it's not part of some giant, sprawling, multinational combine. Nicoli and Levy have approached Time Warner of the US about buying Warner Music for £980m. The City is not sure how EMI will fund the deal but Nicoli and Levy are confident of success.

One way will be cost savings. Since coming together at EMI two years ago, they've cut 20% of the workforce, taken out another £100m in overheads and done the unthinkable - dropped 400 artists from the roster. No ego is too large, no reputation immune. One of Levy's moves, made with Nicoli's support, was to terminate Mariah Carey's contract, at a cost to shareholders of £38m.

They tell the story of Carey's fall and failure to hit the top spot with her new label with relish. It's not the sacking they enjoyed but proving the pundits wrong. Likewise with Robbie Williams. Sceptics say they've made a colossal gamble in backing the star: in the biggest deal of its type in British music history, the singer could earn between £60m and £70m.

The ideal is for Williams to conquer America, but so far he's failed to deliver. However, he remains huge here and besides, they stress, they've got Coldplay and Radiohead making an impact over there.

Trying to steer someone like Williams must be a nightmare. If he doesn't want to do the obligatory round of talk shows and if Americans find some of his antics offensive, there's not much they can do about it. Running biscuit factories, by contrast, must be a doddle.

From his days at United Biscuits, Nicoli gives the impression of a man reborn. There's nothing wrong with biscuits, of course, but when all said and done, a Jaffa Cake is, well, a Jaffa Cake. He was running UB when he was asked if he'd like to be a non-executive director of EMI. He'd always loved music - his passion is guitars and earthy blues - and it seemed like an interesting but none-too-taxing brief. Next thing, in 1999, EMI chief Sir Colin Southgate is off and he has anointed Nicoli his successor.

Suddenly, Nicoli, holder of a nuclear physics degree, found himself, at 50, a music mogul. He was chosen not for his expertise in the industry but for his energy and drive - and his ability to encourage others. You can sense that on meeting him. From the off, there are no fancy airs and graces. His casual manner belies a determination. He's relentless, taking the discussion by the scruff of the neck and giving it a good shake, before moving on to get his next point across.

His volubility must stem from the Italian in him. His father was a prisoner of war who liked Britain so much that he returned with his bride and settled as a farm labourer in East Anglia. The local children gave Eric and his brother a hard time but they prospered, Eric passing the 11-plus and going to Diss Grammar. Sadly, his brother died young of liver failure. After his degree, Nicoli plumped for commerce. For eight years, he worked for Rowntree Mackintosh, part of the team responsible for, among other things, the creation of the Yorkie bar.

He left chocolate for biscuits and was groomed by Hector Laing for stardom, joining the UB board, then being named as his successor, making Nicoli, then 40, the youngest chief executive of a FTSE 100 company at the time. An irrepressible optimist, he talked a good talk at UB but for some in the City who judge people entirely by the amount they add to a share price, it wasn't enough. In 1995, UB made a loss of £100m and cut its dividend. Knives were sharpened but Nicoli mounted a robust defence, pointing to difficult trading conditions and the fallout from two acquisitions made before his time.

Results later improved and, largely buoyed by the prospect of being taken over, so did the share price. By the time UB succumbed in 2000, Nicoli had moved on to EMI. The verdict on his period at UB should be of a job done as well as could be hoped under tough circumstances. Music, though, may be less forgiving. It's a bitchier, more cut-throat, more high-profile industry, where results depend as much on the vagaries of youngsters as they do on real quality.

Nicoli is no thick-skinned bulldog, however. His style is inclusive. He likes to delegate. He doesn't shirk awkward decisions - one of his most notable at EMI was replacing Ken Berry, head of recorded music and a senior industry figure in his own right, with Levy. Another hard call came when Levy wanted to fire Berry's glamorous wife, Nancy, also an executive for the group in the US. Nicoli backed Levy and the removal of the Berrys has gone down as a watershed for the new management team.

They agree on most things. They want a company of world superstars, nurtured and developed by EMI, not has-beens brought in at vast expense. In that respect, the Williams deal may appear odd but, they argue, it's structured so that he only gets the money if he delivers, in which case the company benefits as well and he's young and has got years ahead of him.

Hearing them on their pet subjects of the excesses of the industry - on the executive side as well as among some performers - can be a bit Victor Meldrewish and can seem like the pot calling the kettle black (they are both doing very nicely, thank you) but their intention seems well-placed. He really is different, Nicoli. Just how different, Warner Music may soon find out.