Issue 118

Busker James Anthony Johnson playing a broken-in Martin. Taken on Congress Street, Austin, Texas.

In the spring of 2018, an historic event took place in Newark, New Jersey: the Misfits, a local and legendary punk band that disbanded in 1983, reunited for a single area show at the Prudential Center. Nearly 18,000 people travelled from all over to witness founding members Glenn Danzig, Jerry Only, and Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein temporarily set aside their differences. The Misfits bridged a gap among fans of metal, horror punk, and hardcore, and we were united again with a blazing set of twenty-seven two- to three-minute songs.

Between tunes, the stage went black, the band yelled out song titles to each other, followed by a count-in, and then the boys from Lodi tore into vintage gems like “Mommy, Can I Go Out & Kill Tonight?,” “Die, Die My Darling,” “Horror Business,” and “Who Killed Marilyn?” It was loud, pure, and fast. Judging by the sold-out venue, punk was alive and well ─ more than I realized.

Also in the attendance was my 40-year-old nephew who came up from Maryland. In 2017, he started Snubbed Records, a label dedicated to punk rock. Who would dare do that in the age of downloads and big corporate media? Well, lots of people. In fact, there are scores of punk-centric labels dotting the landscape. Meet just one of the torch-bearers, Ron Saccoccio.

Tom Methans: I would ask you what the first album you ever purchased was, but since lots of punk kids traded homemade cassettes, what was the first commercial recording you ever bought?

Ron Saccoccio: The first piece of music I ever bought was the Def Leppard Hysteria album on CD, but once I got into punk, it was mostly local bands on tape. I was in fifth or sixth grade. There was a metal chick on my bus, a high schooler. When I was living on an Air Force base my bus stopped at several schools off-base to pick up kids. She had a jean jacket with a Def Leppard patch. I had a crush on her, so I went and bought the CD. It must have been 1988-ish, maybe ’87, which means I was 11 or 12.

TM: So we were in the same age range when we both got really into music. Although we share an interest in some standard “crossover” punk and rock bands like the Ramones and the Misfits, and maybe Agnostic Front and the Cro-Mags, we are definitely from different musical generations. The first piece of music I bought myself was Queen’s A Night at the Opera back in 1976, followed by lots of mainstream radio-fare. Besides the Sex Pistols, I had no idea there was a full-fledged punk movement, let alone in New York City just a subway ride from my house. How and where did you find your local scene?

RS: That’s cool. I love Queen. In my opinion, Freddie Mercury has the greatest voice in rock n roll. I’m just outside of Annapolis, MD, about 20 minutes from DC and Baltimore. When I was a sophomore in high school I met my best friend Tom. He runs [Snubbed Records] with me today. He was a metal kid, and at the time, I was in this weird Madonna phase. All I listened to was Madonna, seriously. Hanging out with Tom, I started listening to some metal bands and began playing bass guitar. He was friends with some of the punk kids in our high school, and I started hanging out with them.

Tom gave me a tape of a local punk band called Citrus Ego, [who were] the first punk I ever heard. Then he let me borrow his Dead Milkmen CDs, and I totally fell in love. The Dead Milkmen were my gateway drug into punk rock. Around that time, some other people I knew started bands. We had a local fire hall and a church hall in the area where bands would play what seemed like every weekend. Since we were so close to DC and Baltimore, we’d head into one of those cities whenever a more popular band was on tour. I was too young for the DC hardcore scene, but I was a big Minor Threat fan.

TM: You shouldn’t be embarrassed about loving Madonna. Every young boy had a thing for her. My fleeting moment was when she performed “Like a Virgin” in a lingerie wedding dress on the 1984 MTV Video Music Awards.

The DC area was ground zero for some iconic bands, about half of them started by Ian MacKaye of Minor Threat, but then you had the Bad Brains, Dag Nasty, and the then up-and-coming Henry Rollins. The Dead Milkmen are out of Philadelphia.

You could draw a line from DC through Philly/Jersey, New York City, and Boston to create a greater East Coast punk region of young people picking up instruments, starting bands, and trading tapes. I grew up on arena rock and so I never really bothered to seek out any of these mostly unknown and unsigned groups. You, on the other hand, created your own label in 2017, Snubbed Records. Who are you, a basic 9-to-5er, to play god?!

RS: Ha ha, yeah, most of the bands I started listening to were unknown [at the time], but I think that’s what drew me to them. Literally, anyone can play bass in a punk band. In 2015, I ran into my friend Shaun who I had played in bands with during my college years. He was in a group, and they were looking for a bass player. I agreed to go to one of their practices and ended up joining. I was shopping our first CD to different indie/punk labels but wasn’t getting any responses, so I decided to start my own label.

To be honest, I started [the label] at first just to be able to say that our band was signed. We were looking to get better shows at some of the larger venues in DC and Baltimore. I found that clubs are way more likely to respond to an e-mail from a record label owner sent on behalf of the band instead of an e-mail from the sh*tty bass player. It worked. We got a gig with Agent Orange at the Rock & Roll Hotel in DC ─ they’ve closed down since then. We even had a green room that night, which was pretty cool, and it was stocked with candy bars, which only I was excited about.

As soon as I founded Snubbed, bands hit me up to join. So, it quickly became a real-ish label.

TM: Agent Orange is big! You were driven to make music, and you just did it without any formal training. Is that DIY part of punk (i.e. “anyone can play bass in a punk band”) what attracted you, or was it a specific performer or sound?

RS: I think what connected me the most was the sense of fitting in. I played sports growing up and into high school, but I didn’t really feel comfortable around the jocks and preppy kids. I got along fine with them, but we just didn’t have anything in common outside of sports. Whenever I’d go to a punk show, I’d feel comfortable, welcome, and I’d always have a good time. I also loved that I could see a favorite band and meet them after they played. When you’d go to a show you were part of the event. That’s still true today. Some of my best friends now are people I’ve met over the last five years playing shows.

TM: You speak to a sense of camaraderie and inclusion not found in classic rock. There are films of old punk shows, and there’s barely a stage sometimes ─ just everyone at the same level. Anyone could help load the band in, watch them, drink beers together after loading out, and perhaps even ride in the drummer’s dad’s van to the next town. It was a little different from vaunted bands like Led Zeppelin. There’s no way Jimmy Page was inviting some random dude back to Aleister Crowley’s house.

Now, you’re building your own community with local acts, bands from the South and California, and even groups from Brazil and Germany. You recently added The Queers and Savage Remains to the label roster. Are you courting bands, or are they coming to you? And part two of this question’: Do you wish you had been doing this your whole life, given the apocalyptic era we’re living in?

RS: I think every band has come to me to tell you the truth. I courted the first band I signed, but they broke up right after releasing their album, which sucks for me. Bands still contact me, but I’m not signing anyone right now since everything has come to a stop. I do wish I started this a lot sooner, like in the ‘90s. Back then, everyone bought music, whether it was tape, vinyl or CD. Now, everyone is streaming, so it’s almost impossible to make money selling music no one has heard of, especially while there are no shows going on.

TM: It is a rough time for everyone in entertainment. My friend in Italy finally started playing gigs again but that’s Italy. Meanwhile, a buddy at Live Nation is still furloughed. It looks like it will be a while until we attend indoor shows. Nevertheless, I see you have branched out into some eye-catching merch and even coffee. How did that come about? 

RS: Yeah, everybody thinks the entertainment industry is made up of super-rich artists, but tons of other people depend on live shows, whether it be music or stand-up comedy, to pay their rent.

Just over a year ago, I went to see The Undead. Their guitarist Bobby Steele was the original guitarist for the Misfits. Anyway, they were selling their own [brand of] coffee, and everyone at the show seemed pleasantly surprised to see coffee for sale. I hung out with Bobby that night; he and his wife Diana are both super-friendly people. They gave me the name of the coffee company they went through, Deadly Grounds Coffee from Connecticut. They do horror-themed roasts, pretty cool stuff. I talked to Tom, the owner, and we developed a roast that we call “Punk Roast.” It actually sells better than the music, but we add music to the deal as well ─ you get free downloads when you buy a bag. So many people like coffee, and it’s helping us stay afloat during this period of no shows.

TM: Punk and coffee do seem to go together.

Now, there’s no way we can have a Copper interview unless we discuss your playback equipment.

Just for context, I have a collection of decent mid-priced US-made gear, while some of my colleagues have phono cartridges worth as much as my entire rig! What’s your stereo like?

RS: So this is the point in the interview where I lose all credibility, ha ha! I have a smartphone. The end. Oh, and a $75 record player with a built-in speaker, probably one or two notches better than a Fisher-Price. But my friend and singer in our band, Alex, has a recording studio, and I have access to some really nice equipment when I need to listen for recording purposes. He also records Snubbed bands that are in the Maryland area.

TM: My music biz friends have the sh*ttiest stereo equipment. If your aunt Angie [my wife] gave you a $5,000 check instead of the usual $25 Target gift card, how would you spend it, on stereo equipment or a new bass guitar or amp?

RS: I’d probably use it to go after a well-known punk band, not sure which one exactly, but I’d try to talk them into doing a 7-inch [single] with us so we could get more exposure.

TM: What are your thoughts about high-end audio nerds and all the money we pour into gear just to hear the barely audible parts of a record?

RS: I think it’s cool, I have a friend who’s an audio nerd, he always tries to play me stuff, but my ears are untrained.

TM: If I had 5K, I would buy lots of used records. It would take me years to clean, organize, and listen to them. Maybe I would get a subwoofer. At 54, it’s not like my hearing is getting better after decades of shows, and equipment upgrades aren’t going to change that. All I care about is mood, music, and memory. No special pressing of the Ramones, New York Dolls, or Iggy Pop albums could improve the original groove. In fact, the imperfections make them more perfect. Is it even possible to seize punk’s essence and immediacy on a recording?

RS: This may sound crazy because everyone always tells me it is, but I prefer live recordings/albums. If I listen to the Ramones, it’s almost always either It’s Alive (1979) or Loco Live (1992). One of my favorite record labels, Fat Wreck Chords (they spell it that way, it’s not me trying to be clever), puts out a Live in a Dive album for just about every band on their label. I like hearing the f*ck ups, the banter between songs, and the crowd response. Punk is usually [played] a lot faster live as well, especially The Ramones. It’s impossible to capture the immediacy of it all, but live albums capture enough of the essence of a live show to keep me more entertained than just hearing the song “clean.”

TM: Live in a Dive sounds like the best concept ever! To this day, one of my favorite records of all time is Aerosmith’s Live! Bootleg (1978). It’s gritty and unpolished with imperfections all over the place. Some of it was even transferred from cassettes. Anything done to fix the dirt would destroy the record.

No more softball questions. Now, the lightning round:

TM: How much do you love Diana Krall, come on?

RS: I had to Google her. That should answer that.

TM: Will you press double-length 45 RPM 12-inch vinyl?

RS: No.

TM: How about a 200-gram record?

RS: No.

TM: You gotta give me at least 180 grams.

RS: No.

TM: Any super hi-def limited pressings?

RS: No.

TM: I’m guessing… no SACDs are coming my way?

RS: No…not because I wouldn’t want any of that stuff, but it’s super expensive to have [it] pressed. And it’s super hard to compete with the bigger labels ─ and [when you do things like that] the higher your prices go.

And, I mean, it’s punk rock.

TM: I just couldn’t let the interview end without poking fun at audiophiles.

If you would like to check out some new bands, buy coffee, or grab a cool t-shirt, visit Ron at Snubbed Records.

It often comes as a surprise to music fans when they hear that their favorite artists, in any category, are themselves fans of other musical genres. Even more surprising is when they learn that their heroes actually play those other music styles. Yet when an artist goes in a different direction, such as when Billy Joel releases a classical record or when Lionel Ritchie does country music, it’s often from an affinity for that music that may stem from as early as the artist’s childhood.

Sometimes, the spark may come from befriending another musician, such as when Gram Parsons introduced Keith Richards to country music. Other times the inspiration can come from hearing a record; for example, Paul Simon hearing The Swan Silvertones’ “Oh Mary Don’t You Weep” gospel track, which would spark him to compose “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

Musical collaborations have sometimes led to landmark recordings. The duets of George Jones and Tammy Wynette, or Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, or Prince and Beyoncé opening the 2004 Grammys are globally-adored favorites.  Eric Clapton’s guest guitar solo on The Beatles’ “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and Sting’s self-mocking guest vocal on Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing” are both part of music history.

One of the more interesting live music TV shows is CMT’s Crossroads, which has run for 18 seasons. The concept of the show combines famous country artists with artists from other music genres. Cross-genre music collaboration occurs constantly in private jam sessions, and thanks to the internet and YouTube we can now actually find some of the more interesting or obscure ones, occasionally with less-than-stellar results but more often with results that are greater than the sum of their parts. Here are a few:

“Another Star” – Stevie Wonder and George Benson

1976 was a huge year for George Benson. After years of paying dues as a talented but moderately successful jazz guitarist, he released Breezin,’ his first album to feature his previously hidden vocal talents. Spearheaded by the Leon Russell-penned hit single “This Masquerade,” Breezin’ went triple platinum.

1976 was also the year Stevie Wonder came out of a self-imposed retirement to deliver what many consider to be his magnum opus, Songs in the Key of Life.

By the mid-1970s, Berry Gordy’s Motown had lost much ground because of disco and changing musical tastes. Smokey Robinson had broken up the Miracles. The Supremes, The Temptations and The Four Tops were undergoing personnel changes, Epic Records had swiped Michael Jackson and the Jackson 5, and Marvin Gaye was getting restless (and ultimately was lured away by Columbia Records).

Stevie Wonder had become Motown’s remaining hit record behemoth, with the grand slam of Music of My Mind (1972), Talking Book (1972), Innervisions (1973) and Fulfillingness’ First Finale (1974). With Clive Davis of Arista among several suitors looking to lure Stevie Wonder away, Berry Gordy was desperate to keep his star in the Motown stable.

Starting as a child musical prodigy Stevie Wonder had had an amazing string of hits, yet his artistic vision had grown by leaps and bounds as he entered his 20s: playing all the instruments on his records, experimenting with synthesizers and incorporating jazz and classical harmonic layers into his music, all without alienating his fans and continuing to sell millions of records.

Weary of pop music fame and Motown’s star-making machinery, Wonder threatened to abandon the music industry to focus on helping disabled kids in Ghana – unless Gordy agreed to new contract terms. These would include a $13 million (close to $60 million in 2020 dollars) advance with up to $37 million if Wonder reached his album quotas; a 20 percent royalty; full songwriting publishing rights; the right to choose singles for release; and more. Wonder also reserved the right to record wherever and with whoever he pleased, and he wanted two new Yamaha GX-1 synthesizers, a rare $60,000 (over $200k in 2020 dollars) special order instrument only owned at the time by Keith Emerson, ABBA and Led Zeppelin’s John Paul Jones. The deal was unprecedented in the music industry and was valued to be worth more than Elton John’s and Neil Diamond’s contracts combined. Gordy had no choice but to agree.

Over 130 artists including jazz keyboardist Herbie Hancock, flautist Bobbi Humphrey, and New Riders of the Purple Sage pedal steel guitarist “Sneaky Pete” Kleinow contributed to the recording of the 2-LP Songs in the Key of Life. Stevie Wonder asked George Benson to play lead guitar and sing on the closing song, “Another Star,” which would become the fourth single from the album. Benson leapt at the opportunity, even though his own star was in its ascendancy.

Benson’s lead guitar kicks in at 3:09 and he scat sings lead in counterpoint with Bobbi Humphrey’s flute at 6:37. In interviews, Benson considered the invitation to be “a great honor” and thought Stevie Wonder to be a musical genius whose sophisticated harmonic arrangements and infectious melodies were way above his peers’. Benson felt it was a challenge to come up with a guitar part that could add something to the song. In retrospect, taking over the lead vocal part on a Stevie Wonder recording before Benson’s own singing fame was established might have been the more intimidating assignment.

The infectious “la la” refrain, salsa-influenced percussion and jazzy instrumental track marked yet more steps in Stevie Wonder’s artistic development, and followed the success of the previous Duke Ellington-inspired single, “Sir Duke.” “Another Star” reached #32 on the US Billboard charts.

 

 

 

The diamond-selling (10x platinum!) Songs in the Key of Life proved that Berry Gordy’s gamble on Wonder was worth every penny. Ironically, Benson’s Breezin’ wound up in competition with Songs in the Key of Life in several 1977 Grammy categories. Wonder came away with Album of the Year, while Benson won Record of the Year and Best Instrumental Album.

“One” – Metallica and Lang Lang

The Chinese face of classical music – controversy about showmanship over artistic integrity notwithstanding – is unquestionably that of pianist Lang Lang. With flashy, yet impeccably precise keyboard skills and a youthful bravado in performance that some have compared to that of his hero Franz Liszt, Lang Lang’s glittery outfits and showmanship have earned him a “rock star” tag that those who have not listened to his playing in depth might dismiss as more Elton John than Vladimir Horowitz.

However, Lang Lang’s musical abilities are undisputed among critics and other musicians. His  technical brilliance and ease of performance in the notoriously difficult Bartok Piano Concerto No. 2 with the New York Philharmonic in 2012 wowed critics. Herbie Hancock himself gushed over the emotional connection that Lang Lang’s playing has made with many listeners.

His classical music standing and acclaim secure, Lang Lang enjoys all kinds of music, and what better way to prove it than to play with icons from another music genre…like heavy metal?  And why not biggest name in metal – Metallica? If nothing else, Lang Lang’s numerous televised appearances and branding ventures have proven that his marketing acumen may be as adept as his piano playing.

Introduced when one of Metallica’s managers met a promoter in China who worked with Lang Lang, the collaboration between classical virtuoso and thrash metal pioneers was first realized at the 2014 Grammy Awards, where they performed James Hetfield’s anti-war song “One” from …And Justice for All (1988). (Based on the Dalton Trumbo novel Johnny Got His Gun, the depressing yet accessible “One” earned Metallica its first Grammy in 1989 for Best Metal Performance.) Three years later, Metallica and Lang Lang would once again perform “One” together, this time in Beijing.

Not merely a Metallica performance with Lang Lang adding piano, this rendition of “One” is a completely new arrangement. It opens with a Lang Lang piano introduction and features a piano break in the middle before the famous harmonized guitar solo from James Hetfield and Kirk Hammett. Lang Lang plays throughout the song, punctuating Hetfield’s vocals and Hammett’s guitar lines with piano flourishes in reply, and adeptly maintains sync with Lars Ulrich’s, ahem, rubato sense of rhythm.

This performance of “One” is a clear expression of fun and mutual admiration between the musicians, a true musical and cultural collaboration.

 

 

 

Metallica seems much more comfortable collaborating with Lang Lang here than in their somewhat forced-sounding and critically panned 2011 project with Lou Reed. Perhaps the combination of virtuoso gamesmanship and sense of fun that Lang Lang exudes created a more relaxed atmosphere than that of the notoriously acerbic Reed.

As for Lang Lang? He is reportedly good friends with Kanye West and has gone on record that they will work together in the future, so perhaps something like gospel hip-hop will be Lang Lang’s next musical adventure.

“Come With Me”  from the Godzilla soundtrack – Sean “Puff Daddy” Combs and Jimmy Page

In 1997 Sean “Puff Daddy” Combs wrote and recorded “I’ll Be Missing You,” a hip-hop tribute to his friend, murdered rapper Chris “The Notorious B.I.G.” Wallace, using sampled music from The Police’s hit single “Every Breath You Take” as the backing track. The record went triple platinum in the US and UK and is one of the top selling singles of all time. However, Combs never requested nor received permission from Sting to use the track. Police guitarist Andy Summers was unaware of the song until he heard it on the radio. Combs was sued and Sting won 100% of the music royalties in court.

A savvy branding entrepreneur, Combs jumped at the chance to combine another rap with a classic rock staple when approached to provide a song for the 1998 Hollywood reboot of  Godzilla. Directed by Independence Day’s Roland Emmerich, Godzilla received a huge marketing budget from Columbia/TriStar and this time, Combs asked for and received not only permission but production cooperation from none other than Jimmy Page. Combs’ new rap was called “Come With Me” and was written to be performed with Led Zeppelin’s iconic song “Kashmir.”

A notoriously keen businessman in his own right, Page saw the financial and marketing opportunities that would be afforded by exposing Zeppelin’s music to an entirely different audience, leveraging a connection to Combs to make his presence known in the hip hop arena, and to involving himself again in film soundtracks, an area in which he had previously dabbled with the Charles Bronson action feature Death Wish II.

Jimmy Page recalled: “I recorded my guitar at CTS Studio in Wembley, London via an ISDN line to Sean Combs at the Record Plant in LA and a video link between the two venues. After the guitar recording, a director was on hand to film my part of what was to become the promo video for the song. I was working to a blue screen on this and I thought they did a clever job the way they included the performance in the final cut.”

Page reworked the music from “Kashmir” and added other guitar parts and a melodic interlude which featured Combs’ singing in between the main rap sections. The music video was heavily promoted on MTV and other outlets.

 

 

 

Page and Combs would perform “Come With Me” live on several occasions, including the season 23 finale of Saturday Night Live and the 1999 NetAid concert at Giants Stadium.

 

 

 

Much to TriStar’s chagrin, Godzilla was a box office flop. “Come With Me” became one of the project’s few bright moments, going platinum and reaching #1 on Billboard’s Hot Rap Songs and UK R&B charts. “Come With Me” became the theme song for New York Yankees’ shortstop Derek Jeter, much as Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” was the theme song for Yankees relief pitcher Mariano Rivera.

“You Do Something To Me,” “Chasing Pavements,” “Need Your Love So Bad” – Adele and Paul Weller

Whenever an OG gives the stamp of approval to a young blood, it is a huge sign of respect. This has been a rite that transcends all cultures and avocations.

In December 2008, the UK program Hub Combo on BBC6 Music Live featured a unique British singer-songwriter pairing:

A young up-and-coming Adele, whose album 19, released earlier that year, would proceed to win Grammy Awards in 2009 for Best New Artist and Best Female Pop Vocal Performance;

And “The Modfather” himself – Paul Weller, founder of The Jam and The Style Council and an artist so beloved in the UK that he is the only British musician to top the UK charts in five separate decades, apart from John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Given that his musical stature in the US is smaller than that of Oasis’ Noel Gallagher, who cites Weller as a primary influence, one cannot underestimate the intensity of Weller’s UK fan base.

Accompanied by a small combo and string section, the rising star and punk rock/neo soul elder statesman collaborated on a three-song duet performance that is luckily available on YouTube.

Weller has a history of lending his considerable gravitas and talents to up-and-coming artists in the UK, with Oasis, Blur, Ocean Colour Scene and Amy Winehouse among his beneficiaries. In a 2012 interview with The Daily Mirror, The Modfather spoke of the thrill of first hearing Adele sing.

On the surface, pairing Adele with Paul Weller would seem incongruous. Adele at the time had been ridiculed by critics for unabashedly citing The Spice Girls as a musical influence in interviews, and was maligned in social media for her weight, including a snarky comment from designer Karl Lagerfeld. Weller, known for his brutal honesty and uncompromising stubbornness in maintaining artistic integrity over hype, must have been hearing Adele’s other musical influences, including her love for Etta James, Mary J. Blige, Lauryn Hill and Alicia Keys.

Additionally, Adele grew up in a single-parent working class household in Brixton. Her refreshing lack of pretension and refusal to compromise to the sexy glamour image of her peers also must have sparked a kinship with the Woking-bred Weller, whose songs about working class British life are a big part of his endearment to generations of UK fans.

Bearing this in mind, Weller, who disbanded The Jam at the height of its popularity to chase his Motown R&B muse with The Style Council (and who still performs Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” in concert), could certainly find common ground with a singer like Adele if they were going to pursue a blue-eyed soul angle – which is what they did.

On the Hub Combo show, Weller, sitting at the piano, plays the introduction to the haunting “You Do Something To Me,” his UK Top 10 single from 1995’s Stanley Road. With Adele and Weller trading half-verses, this ode to unattainable love, a pervasive theme in Adele’s best-known songs, is certainly a simpatico one for her, and her emotion-laden mezzo-soprano matches Weller’s husky, world-weary baritone note-for-note and tear-for-tear.

 

 

 

A quiet acoustic guitar and an electric piano open Adele’s gorgeous “Chasing Pavements.” Adele throws down the gauntlet in the first verse, with Weller taking the second, both singing in unison in the chorus. Weller sings the third verse, and then Adele takes the song into its bridge and channels Etta James’ heart-wrenching “I’d Rather Go Blind” in her bluesy wails and powerful crescendos, with Weller rejoining for the final verse and choruses.

When asked about singing “Chasing Pavements” with Adele, Weller replied that he’d been singing it to himself in his touring van for months. Conversely, and somewhat star-struck, Adele talked about the experience of singing with the legendary Modfather: “It feels really a bit weird. I was scared to try to do anything different with it because of who [he] is…it’s just surreal.”

 

 

 

The final Hub Combo song is the Little Willie John blues standard made popular in the UK by Peter Green-era Fleetwood Mac: “Need Your Love So Bad.” Again trading half-verses, Weller and Adele round out their mutual song theme of unrequited love with a simultaneous nod to both their shared hardscrabble British roots and their reciprocal love of R&B.

 

 

 

Afterword: When Paul Weller won the 2009 BRIT award for Best Male Solo Artist, it was presented to him (in a pub) by none other than Adele.

 

 

 

Future articles on unusual musical collaborations and cameos will include artists of genres including music of other countries and even people outside the music industry.

 

Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/John Athayde.

Completed in 1840, Robert Schumann’s song cycle Dichterliebe (Poet’s Love), Op. 48, sets 16 poems by Heinrich Heine for solo voice and piano. Today it is considered one of the great examples of German art song and a challenge required of any tenor or baritone hoping to make his mark in the genre. A few recent recordings show a range of approaches to this masterwork.

30-year-old German baritone Samuel Hasselhorn is among those with a new Dichterliebe (GWK Records). He is accompanied by Boris Kusnezow in a beautiful and intense recording.

“Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome” (“In the Rhine, in the Holy River”) is Heine’s description of a painting of the Virgin Mary in the Cologne Cathedral, likening her face to that of his love. Hasselhorn does a wonderful job of expressing the worshipful quality of this text.

 

“Ich grolle nicht” (“I Bear No Grudge”) has a much different mood, evoking someone wronged by a lover’s cruelty. There’s a kind of triumph in Hasselhorn’s rendering, as if he’s willed himself to move beyond the terrible pain of heartbreak. He also demonstrates a spectacular upper range, a gift that should be prized in a baritone.

 

Keep an eye out for Hasselhorn’s new Schumann disc, this time with pianist Joseph Middleton, coming out from Harmonia Mundi in September.

Another attempt at Dichterliebe came out recently from Öberg Recordings, featuring Swedish baritone Karl-Magnus Fredriksson, accompanied by Stefan Klingele. In a bizarre error, the company labeled the song cycle as Op. 40 instead of 48 on each individual track and every sales platform. Fortunately, that lack of professionalism is not reflected in the performance, which is lush and spirited.

Fredriksson shows his stylistic range, from jaunty to tragic. The first can be found in the tiny song “Die Rose, die Lilie, die Taube, die Sonne” (“Rose, Lily, Dove, Sun”), a mere six lines of poetry extolling a woman’s virtues beyond those natural phenomena in the title.

 

On the other hand, in “Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen” (“On a Shining Summer Morning”), Fredricksson sighs his way through heartache. His husky voice might not match Hasselhorn’s bell-like shimmer, but it brings a believable weight to these texts.

 

As was normal for German art song, Schumann did not specify a vocal range for Dichterliebe, and both tenor and baritone versions have long been available. The first performance, in 1844, was by a baritone, but many a great tenor has mastered the work, for example Fritz Wunderlich’s recording with Hubert Giesen in the 1960s. Wunderlich’s delicate, supple voice set the standard for every tenor who followed.

Daniel Kim may not be Fritz Wunderlich, but this experienced lyric tenor, who’s been performing on major world stages for 20 years, has a gentle, expressive voice that suits Heine’s poetic style. He is accompanied by Hugo Kim on this release from Seoul-based Audioguy Records that also includes Schumann’s Liederkreis, Op. 39.

Even in the very short “Aus meinen Tränen spriessen” (“From My Tears Spring”), you can hear the patient, clear phrasing. Kim’s voice occasionally suffers from worn edges, but his sensitive musicianship is the more important factor. Some of the credit for the recording’s sonic success goes to the Audioguy team, led by engineer and founder Jung-Hoon Choi, who created a naturalistic sound appropriate to this repertoire meant to be performed acoustically in the parlors of private homes.

 

Over the past couple of decades, there’s been a trend in classical music to rethink the whole business, blurring the lines between classical and other genres and pushing for greater accessibility and popularization. It’s also partly about shaking the dust and cobwebs off a body of work that’s moldering in sameness and giving it a new breath of life. Some of these experiments in revitalization are dreadful and some are revelatory, but I believe they’re all important if this music is going to survive into many future generations. Not surprisingly, a piece as canonic as Dichterliebe has earned the attention of such projects.

One group that has experimented with Schumann is the Erlkings, named after the Goethe poem “Erlkönig,” famously set as an art song by Schubert, Beethoven, and others. The Erlkings, to quote their own PR, strive to rediscover great art song “through the lens of a modern musical vocabulary.” This includes English translations and an unusual instrumentation: voice, guitar, cello, tuba, and drums. Their recording of Dichterliebe on Rhythmic Dog Records deserves a listen. Purists, steel yourselves!

Right. So, they’ve turned the suggestive “Ich will meine Seele tauchen” (“Let Me Dip My Soul”) into a samba. I urge you to push through the natural horror you feel as your brain adjusts, and then just listen to this as a whole new piece. The Erlkings haven’t changed a note of Schumann’s melody or harmony, but only shifted the meter, instrumentation, and style. If you take it on its own merits, it’s an effective Latin jazz tune.

 

On the other hand, their version of “Die alten, bösen Lieder” (“The Old, Evil Songs”) has a cabaret-style drollery flavored with a touch of syncopation. The arrangement is clever, if a misfire. My objection is not so much the deconstruction of Schumann as the discombobulation of Heine, whose poem is part of a centuries-old tradition of expressing a jilted lover’s longing for death. I guess the Erlkings are trying to find irony in this, or play up the song’s melodrama, but I think it loses more than it gains.

 

A related 21^st-century phenomenon is the melding of cultures outside of Western Europe with the Classical canon, as composer/conductor Christian Jost and the Horenstein Ensemble have done with Dichterliebe in their new recording on Deutsche Grammophon. Tenor Peter Lodahl and pianist Daniel Heide are merely the guest artists in this rethinking inspired by everything from East Asian timbres to the Golden Age of Hollywood. Here is Jost’s conception of perhaps the best-known of the Dichterliebe songs, “Im wunderschönen Monat Mai” (“In the Wonderful Month of May”):

 

Does Schumann need to be rewritten? Strictly speaking, no. But if nobody ever rewrote the classics, then West Side Story would not exist because Laurents, Bernstein, and Sondheim would have left Shakespeare alone.

Just to recalibrate back to the Schumann we know, let’s end with a moment of the great Fritz Wunderlich:

 

Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

I have found a book written by one of the best bass players on the planet about how to study Music and Life. I capitalize Music and Life because Victor L. Wooten does so in his book, The Music Lesson: A Spiritual Search for Growth Through Music, first printed in 2006.

Tony Levin, a venerated bass man himself with a 40 year session pedigree and long stints with King Crimson and the Peter Gabriel Band, said of this work, “Victor Wooten has been doing things on the bass that nobody dreamed of, and we bass players can’t help but hunger for some insight into what inspires him and how he does it. Here, as in his Music, he surprises us and gives us more depth than we expected, more of himself than many would dare.” You may know Wooten from his work with Bela Fleck and the Flecktones.

I know. Normally a reviewer would put a quote like that at the end of a review to emphasize what the reviewer had been expressing. However, I trust this is not a review but a celebration.

I cannot give you my opinion on this incredible story. I can’t because the concept of an opinion with regard to this work is trifling. The experience of reading this book changed my playing, my approach to practicing (which I never relished but regarded as necessary drudgery), and yes, this read indeed changed my life. We could talk about all that but who cares, right?

So, let’s talk about the story. Early on Victor talks about a strange man named Michael who shows up unannounced in Victor’s apartment. Not at the door but inside his locked apartment. Michael became a friend, a prophet, and a seer in Victor’s life. On my first read I made a mental note to ask Victor someday whether Michael was real, or a tool Victor was using to get his point across. By the second read I realized that did not matter and I was letting that discussion in my head get in the way of what Victor was trying to show me. If Michael was a literary tool then Wooten is a brilliant writer and teacher in his own right. Wooten was able to separate himself from the Michael character and come across genuinely as confused as the reader. If Michael was real than Victor is one of the luckiest guys on the planet.

One of the most powerful statements comes in the Prelude chapter (sort of a Chapter 2; open the book you’ll see what I mean) that ultimately validates everything that comes after.

“I’m not sure if [Michael] ever outright lied to me, but I know that he frequently stretched the truth. Whenever I questioned him about it, he would answer with, ‘Truth? What is truth? Did you learn from the experience? Now that is important. And by the way, if I always tell you the truth, you might start to believe me.’”

Think about that statement.  What Michael was showing Victor was not entirely how to play Music as much as how to play Life. What he was trying to get Victor to understand, and thus the reader, was that Michael couldn’t teach him truth. If I got this right, he was trying to get Victor to see he needed to absorb everything he was being shown to develop his own truth. Once the reader embraces that, he or she can follow the examples of Michael and file them away for themselves.

 

 

In an early chapter Michael challenges Victor to come up with ten key elements of Music. Admitting there are thousands, they made a list. They named these elements Notes, Articulation, Technique, Feel, Dynamics, Rhythm, Tone, Phrasing, Space and Listening. Victor spends the next ten chapters, which he calls Measures, discussing and dissecting each. At the beginning of each Measure is a statement that hits you with a sense of what the Measure will be like. For instance, in the beginning of Measure Two titled Notes is the line, “If you stopped playing notes Music would still exist.” Victor sets up your thinking up to be open to the message of each Measure.

A recurring theme is understanding how we learn skills. When we are learning a language as youngsters we learn by immersion and participating. I am 66 years old and I can conjure up the sound of each my children’s beginning attempts at language. They were mimicking the sounds they heard from us. What came out once they started didn’t make any sense, but they were grooving.

A personal aside. We are all guilty of mimicking them back with baby talk, but that probably doesn’t help this process.

No one put us in language classes and graduated us up levels as we grew. Kidlings are surrounded by language and it looks so cool they want to participate. Then by three they can communicate pretty well, and we can’t get them to shut up.

With Music, we need to study and practice theory to advance to high levels, much like a college language student, but to play Music all you need is to surround yourself with players. Practitioners of styles like jazz and classical benefit from theory study and long hours of practice, but that work is not as crucial as playing along with those better than themselves. There are just as many styles where listening and playing along are all that is required, such as folk, blues and bluegrass. I can practice blues scales and the effort is dry. I put on a Buddy Guy record, pick up my Strat and magic happens. Sure, doing the scales helped but there are millions of self-taught players who couldn’t tell a pentatonic from a carburetor and play like the wind.

My mother never used a measuring cup making her spaghetti sauce and she made the second-best sauce west of Sicily. (The best of course, is my wife’s.)

Victor uses his experiences with Michael to articulate all the elements, each with their own Measure. Michael uses nature, a cast of characters all very Michael-like but each with a different message, and the occasional jam session where Michael would play guitar with Victor following on bass. The deep dive into each element has lessons in Music but are also about Life. I am beginning to believe the two cannot be separated.

Victor has a remarkable story in which Michael takes him to a park outside Nashville after they played together at a gig. As you can imagine this happens at three in the morning. After talking about the sounds of the lake and forest around them, Michael begins to sing in a low mesmerizing tone. After immersing himself in listening Victor felt a wet lump hit his lap. It was a bullfrog who happened to be a friend of Michael’s. Then looking around Victor sees they are surrounded by frogs, deer, racoons, and all manner of the night community. Victor closed his eyes and immersed himself again. He felt Michael stop and he opened his eyes. Michael lifted a sleeping snake from Victor’s lap and led the snake to the ground.

Michael then discussed how creatures could hear; after all the nocturne cacophony is all about them singing and talking to each other. But they could feel his Music as well. Feel is one of the elements and musicians immediately identify that with their feel on an instrument. It is also about the feel of the Music around you, not just with a band but all around us every day. All band musicians have had moments when something snaps in a tune and a zap flows through the band. Everyone feels it and looks at each other in awe. The misguided believe their talent causes that, but Michael will tell you it has nothing to do with talent. One must be ready for the moment.

 

 

In 1975 I was in a band that played rock reminiscent of Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. The lead guitarist scored a gig for New Year’s Eve. We were thrilled; New Year’s gigs were always a blast and beat the crap out of sitting home and watching a ball drop. When David told us where we were playing, we literally did not believe him. David was a bit of a prankster.

The American School for the Deaf is the oldest such school in the country and still in West Hartford, CT. Apparently, the entertainment director had caught us playing somewhere and contacted David. We were certainly skeptical, but a gig is a gig.

That night was incredible, a memory I cherish. Those kids danced their asses off. We were talking this over at a break, marveling at the tempo of the dancers matching the songs. Our opinion was they could feel the beat through the floor, and that certainly had to be true. We could feel that. One of the teachers we were talking with told us the floor was a part of it, but didn’t we notice the kids stopped immediately at the end of the song? She pointed out the floor was still shaking from the kids stomping around but they stopped because they could Feel that the Music had stopped.

The Music Lesson is an incredible journey into the mind and Music of Victor L. Wooten looking into your mind and your Music. You do not need to be a musician to appreciate the lessons of this story. My belief is if you read this, and you definitely should, a high percentage you will look for an instrument you’ve always wanted to try but believed you couldn’t pull off. This book will show you the way.

Tony Levin stated that ‘Victor Wooten is the Carlos Castaneda of music.” A very apt comparison. I would add, Alice in Wonderland.

Enjoy. Then enjoy it again. Then get a copy for your best friend.

 

Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Jason Mouratides, cropped to fit format.

They never had a Top 10 album, but Sonic Youth amassed legions of devoted fans during its nearly three decades together. That makes them an ideal subject for Off the Charts, as a band that enjoyed steady popularity and influence while staying just this side of superstardom.

In 1977, when he was 19, aspiring guitarist and songwriter Thurston Moore left his family home in Connecticut and moved to New York City to join the punk scene there. Soon he met punk singer Kim Gordon, and the two of them started a band. They changed their name every few months; by the time they’d settled on Sonic Youth, the couple had moved in together. They recruited guitarist Lee Ranaldo and took turns playing drums at gigs. Eventually they gave the drumming job to Richard Edson.

Ranaldo’s former bandmate Glenn Branca, who happened to be starting a label called Neutral Records, jumped at the chance to sign Sonic Youth as one of his first artists. His vision was to assist the more experimental side of the post-punk movement, particularly noise rock. The band’s first LP, Confusion Is Sex (1983), certainly fits the bill. Their sound was sometimes referred to as “no wave,” a dissonant, atonal reaction to the tropes of first-generation punk.

All the songs on the debut are by either Gordon or Moore, except for a cover of the Stooges’ “I Wanna Be Your Dog.” Edson left to pursue an acting career, so most of the drumming is done by Jim Sclavunos. However, Bob Bert, who would stay with the band for a couple of years, played drums on “Making the Nature Scene.” This is one of Gordon’s songs, a cry of resistance against society’s systemic disunity. She doesn’t sing, but calls the lines out in a single, clear pitch while the instruments grumble and rage in support.

 

The second album, Bad Moon Rising (1985), was named after the Creedence Clearwater Revival song from 1969 – choice irony, since that song is not covered on the album. However, the track list does include a song by Moore and no-wave poet Lydia Lunch called “Death Valley ’69.” (Lunch would later collaborate with Robert Smith of The Cure.) Sonic Youth experimented on this album with using what you might call connective tissue between songs.

Moore’s “I’m Insane” is one of many tracks focused on psychological darkness in American life. The distorted guitar effects, acting as a long intro to this seven-minute piece, are grounded only by Bert’s primitive thuds on the drum. Again the lyrics are spoken instead of sung, although Moore uses a more off-hand style that swoops downward every couple of words.

 

EVOL came out in 1986, the band’s first release on California indie label SST Records. That wasn’t the only change ushered in with this album. Steve Shelley replaced Bob Bert on drums, and Moore, Gordon, and Ranaldo began trying out a more accessible sound.

Take Gordon’s “Shadow of a Doubt,” which she whispers over a decidedly tonal and surprisingly delicate collection of plucked strings and light percussion. It deepens into stress and noise at 1:45, but quickly comes back under control.

 

That tendency toward pop-friendliness continued with Sister (1987); by the time Daydream Nation came out in 1988, the band had really found its new identity. Critics loved this two-disc album, and fans agreed, rewarding it with two fairly successful singles, “Teen Age Riot” and “Silver Rocket.”

This is not to say that Sonic Youth lost its edge or experimental vibe. “The Wonder” is the first part of a set of songs called “Trilogy,” which ends the album, co-written by Gordon and Moore. The LA-based crime fiction of James Ellroy inspired the title and texture of this song. Under the guitar distortion and harsh dissonances, the underlying chord progressions are more tonally based than earlier works, and Moore and Gordon are actually singing, sometimes even in harmony with each other.

 

Sonic Youth’s most successful album was Goo (1990), whose single “Kool Thing” made it all the way to No. 7 on the alt-rock charts. Of course, this was the era of grunge, which owed a lot to the sonics and attitude of no-wave and other post-punk movements. The band, now with the Geffen-owned DGC label, had that muddy guitar sound in mind when it recorded the album Dirty (1992). Although only one of the singles, “100%,” charted well, they did land a tour with young upstarts Nirvana the following year.

Bruce Vig, producer of Nirvana’s blockbuster Nevermind, was hired to produce the 1994 Sonic Youth album Experimental Jet Set, Trash and No Star. The wager worked, and the album captured the No. 34 spot, the highest for the band up to that point.

From that album, “Winner’s Blue” laments the things that fame steals from a person’s life. You can hear the influence of Nirvana’s Kurt Cobain in this lyrical melody accompanied on acoustic guitar. This song is unrecognizable as Sonic Youth.

 

The band members built their own studio after a wildly successful appearance at Lollapalooza in 1995. A Thousand Leaves (1998) was the first album to be recorded there. Critics complained about the balance and Gordon’s voice. As you can hear on “The Ineffable Me,” she employs a diaphanous style, floating around the angular melody. Note that the harmony backs away from pop accessibility. (Warning: Explicit lyrics.)

 

Sonic Youth continued into its third decade and the new century, putting out a studio album every two years. They might have gone on until today, but the core relationship of Moore and Gordon began to disintegrate. The Eternal (2009) turned out to be Sonic Youth’s final album. Moore and Gordon ended their marriage in 2011. Although Ranaldo held out hope for a band reunion, it never happened.

Nevertheless, they went out on top, with The Eternal reaching the No. 18 spot, their strongest sales ever. The three original members were still on board, plus Shelley on drums and Mark Ibold on bass. And unlike the last studio gasps of many long-lasting bands, this album is a solid piece of work that pleased the critics.

Moore, Gordon, and Ranaldo shared credit for “Poison Arrow” on that farewell. The most notable difference from their early years is that the dissonance and distortion are now presented in a more diffused, softened sound palette. Moore seems to be channeling Lou Reed’s somber, half-sung style, as if he’s reaching back to his proto-punk roots.

Besides being the name of the legendary high-end audio magazine, the phrase and the magazine The Absolute Sound was created by the late Harry Pearson (founder of said magazine) in order to explain its goal. The attainment of this elusive and always-moving target was based on the theory that an audio system’s purity of reproduction was related to its ability to re-create the illusion of acoustic instruments playing in real space, reproduced in your living room.

To begin with, I thought this was sheer nonsense, because anyone who has ever made a record or attended a recording session knows that the final sound that is reproduced on vinyl, CD, cassette, downloads, streaming…is what is simply an interpretation of an event in which a whole bunch of ears (not yours) think that what is good and what they think is being recorded should sound like. That is what a record producer does.

These events, for the most part, are recorded by using mostly average gear, through mostly average wires, listened to in the studio by mostly horrendous playback monitors connected mostly by the cheapest zip cord and cables through compressors, limiters and EQ circuits made up if mostly cheap electronics…I could go on but I think you get the point. Even with all this mediocrity, a lot of great music has been recorded and reproduced with enough ambience and technical skills to actually give one a great “in-home” experience.

As many of you may have read, recording studios (including some legendary ones) are closing down due to the high overhead, as well as the ability for many artists to now record at home with inexpensive digital recording equipment. I am aware that some of the studios that have remained open have upgraded to better cables, speakers and gear. I would bet, however, that most of the vinyl that the readers of this column cherish was recorded under less-than-stellar conditions. I find it so ironic that we spend so much effort and money on the final reproduction of the music, when so little care was taken at its creation. Very few producers and engineers I have met are audiophiles.

This does not include direct-to-disc recording because they may comprise 1/1000th of an average record collection! (That experience, however, has come at a higher and higher price tag over the years.)

Well, I’m here to give you some good news on “the absolute sound” front.

Maybe it’s because I’m never short of opinions or afraid to wade in on most things, but I’m asked about music-related issues frequently. Everything from, what is the best show I ever saw, to what was the first concert I ever went to, who is the best this, that and the other thing…

“Will you listen to my kid’s band’s demo tape? They’re amazing!”

“No, really, I wouldn’t waste your time but the guitar player sounds just like Jimi…or Stevie Ray…Or Keith…” blah, blah, blah. I try to be nice. I do listen.

Mostly it’s truly excruciating. But I try to keep this in perspective because I was young once and I’m sure most of the bands I was in were pretty bad.

When friends of friends come over and hear my reference audio system I get these kind of questions: “How much is that turntable…WHAT? Can it really make a difference?” “How much are those speaker cables? You’re kidding, right?” On and on. On the other hand, someone told me their Sonos system is really good but compared to what I have…OMG.

So then the next series of questions often revolves around what it would cost to buy a system that the wife won’t kill me over, and how close can one get to a great-sounding stereo system that plays vinyl.

This made me think back to my early days in audio.

1968 to be exact.

Back then I owned a Sony STR-6050 receiver, an AR-XA turntable with a Dust Bug pivoted record brush, a Shure M91 cartridge and a pair of KLH Model Six speakers, all wired with lamp cord from the hardware store.

I thought it sounded pretty d*mn good actually. (I was also pretty high most of the time but still…)

When I ask my friends what they think they could or would consider a financial investment in a good vinyl-playback system today, the figure comes up around $2,500 – $3,000.

Let’s put this then in perspective relative to 1968 dollars and what I got for the money then and what one can get for the money today.

In 1968, $100 is worth about $750.00 today, $200 is worth about $1,500.00,

$300 is equal to $2,250.00 today and so on.

In 1968 my cost of the stereo listed above was about $910. $110 for the turntable and cartridge, $400 for the speakers and $400 for the Sony receiver. That comes to about $910.00, which is close to $6,900.00 today!

For less than half that (say $2,500.00 today) you can buy a pair of speakers, a turntable/cartridge, an integrated amp and cables that would totally destroy (outperform) anything from my hippie era.

The value of good-sounding hi-fi needn’t cost an arm and a leg for a casual listener (one who is now accustomed to a Sonos life style). Great-sounding audio (with vinyl at the epicenter, but which could easily be replaced by a digital front end) is now better than ever. I know. I recommend products and put together these kinds of systems for my friends.

Imagine if your friend actually wanted to invest 7K?

Well, all I can say is, not only could they get something that would really blow them away, but they could settle in with the beverage and companion of their choice and if it’s legal in their state, get some edibles to make the experience complete.

Note that this is all about analog for the moment. This is also not about the kind of person who can just throw money around.

Hell, if you could afford to just spend $50,000 as an entry point then you are seriously missing one of the joys of this hobby.

The greatest satisfaction I got from all the changes and upgrades to my systems over the years is that the passion to listen to the music I love, and the ability of the gear to uncover more sonic information, especially on material I know so well, are what make this such a great hobby.

If either you or someone else you know who is asking for advice on where to start would like some recommendations, here are some suggestions for very good sounding but very reasonably priced gear, made by companies who want you as a lifetime customer and know how to build the really big stuff.

PS – I have no financial interest in any of these companies (or any audio companies for that matter). I do know the lineage and know some of the people and the reputations these companies have. I have also owned over 200 pieces of audio gear over the last 50 years and I know value. There are surely other options besides my suggestions. I just know that you can’t go wrong with any of these if tight budgets are an important part of your decision making.

A word about speakers…

Speakers have the single greatest effect on an audio system. The one caveat is that, given a good basic design, a speaker will reveal much of what is fed from downstream. It doesn’t matter how much they cost or their size as much as how they work in the room they are placed in. Also, you need to have an understanding of their power handling and sensitivity rating in order to have a good match with the amplifier (or integrated amp) driving them and ensure they’ll play at the volumes you’d like in your listening room.

I would not install a $500 turntable in a system that retails for $20,000 and up because you are doing the remaining components (amp, preamp, speakers) a disservice to their ability to reproduce all that the source can extract. On the other hand, I would connect a great $500 speaker to an otherwise crazy-high-budget system and it would show you how good all the associated gear is.

I know because I have done it.

One last mention.

Once you get into the range of $2,500 and up, little things start to matter, meaning they can be upgrades to a better experience. That is the fun part of all this. The turntables listed can show what a better cartridge can do, the amps can always be upgraded, and separates like more expensive phono stages and outboard D/A converters will also sound better.

There is a ladder here. Many people will stop at the first step and be happy. The great part of these components is that they give you a glimpse of the “absolute sound” without causing the absolute destruction of your bank account.

Turntables (approximately $1,000 range including arm and pre-mounted cartridge)

Rega Planar 3
Pro-Ject X1
VPI Cliffwood

Outboard phono stages

Pro-Ject phono box S2, moving magnet/moving coil (MM/MC)-capable, $199
Parasound Zphono (MM/MC), $200
VPI Cliffwood (MM only), $499

Integrated amplifiers (under $1,000)

Musical Fidelity M-2si
ELAC Discovery DS-A101-G integrated amplifier/server
PS Audio Sprout100 (includes built-in phono stage, DAC and Bluetooth)

Speakers (under $600)

Elac Uni-Fi UB5, $499 per pair
Vanatoo Transparent Zero ($319 – $359) and the Transparent One Encore ($499 – $599, both with built-in amplifiers)
Monitor Audio Bronze 100

Cables

I suggest the WIreWorld Oasis speaker and interconnect cables because I have them and because the price point is important. (A 2-meter speaker cable pair runs about $280, and it’s about $100 for a pair of 1-meter Interconnects.)

There are lots of good choices from Nordost, AudioQuest and StraightWire, to name a few that are also reasonably priced. I advise keeping the total cost of the speaker cables and interconnects at no more than 10 percent of total purchase price. The cable game is a very controversial (the better the system, the less controversial) and costly part of this hobby. Cables really can make a difference but mostly in highly-resolving (meaning expensive) systems and spending a lot on them is not for the faint of heart.

Even when artists write manifestos, they are (hopefully) aware that their exigent tone is borrowed, only echoing and mimicking the urgency of the activist’s protests. . . . The people sometimes demand change. They almost never demand art.       —Zadie Smith, Intimations (2020)

That’s from an essay, “Something to Do,” that Smith wrote apropos of the frustration that urban creative types experienced during the lockdown. What do you do with all that time? Bake bread? Write a novel? Both need to be shared. Although it wasn’t her intent, she reminded us that most art is ultimately public, meant to be enjoyed (or at least tolerated) by the whole community – everyone who walks by “The Picasso” inside Chicago’s Loop, or through-and-under the “Bean,” Anish Kapoor’s Cloud Gate in Millennium Park.

The same holds true for symphonies! Around the middle of the 18th century, they gradually became the most public of genres, and as such they began to speak not only to but also for their audiences. Slowly, in Paris, London, Mannheim, and elsewhere, the symphony grew up. Consider how one musician active in the 1770s, Johann Abraham Peter Schulz, described an ideal first movement for such a work:

[It should] contain grand and bold ideas, free handling of compositional techniques, apparent irregularity in the melody and harmony, strongly-marked rhythms, powerful bass melodies and unisons, sudden transitions and shifts from one key to another, bold shadings of forte and piano, and particularly the crescendo.

Symphonies, Schulz wrote, “are especially suited to the expression of the grand, the solemn, and the sublime.” He didn’t live long enough to hear Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3, “Eroica,” but he might well have been describing it. Beethoven made sure to give audiences what they expected: “grand and bold ideas,” “free handling,” “strongly-marked rhythms,” and more.

With No. 3, Beethoven also attempted to offer his era a politically conscious symphony; that caused him a bit more trouble. He had begun with the intention of dedicating his new work to Napoleon, Liberator of Europe. But before he could even finish it, his hero had crowned himself Emperor, signaling to the composer (and not only the composer) that Bonaparte was just another tyrant. Beethoven scratched out his dedication so forcefully on the score that he tore right through the paper.

My favorite “Eroica” movement is the second, a funeral march in which Beethoven invites us to imagine a memorial oration, tracing a hero’s struggles and ultimate legacy. As the music progresses, venturing far from its initial minor-key tonality, it attains real nobility and depth of feeling, no longer merely echoing or mimicking.

 

To find another Beethoven symphony with a similarly pointed message, we are forced to head toward the other end of Beethoven’s life – from the “Eroica” of 1804 to the Ninth of 1824. Its last movement is a grand setting of Schiller’s Ode to Joy, a song in praise of love and friendship, of all that unites us as humans. Critics have pointed out that Beethoven’s musical frame is better than the poem itself. Fair enough, but the real point of the Ninth may be that you first endure three long movements of Life Itself, a stretch of often dissonant, disordered instrumental music, before you get to the good stuff. And then the bass soloist just gets up and says, “Oh Freunde, nicht diese Töne!” (Oh friends, not these sounds!) Kind of a Zen moment.

[Scherzo at 19:52; Adagio at 35:50; Finale at 52:14]

 

And this is where we leap ahead, hoping to encounter new, improved musical manifestos.

Consider Dmitri Shostakovich (1906 – 1975). Exactly none of his fifteen symphonies comes to us without an intended (or inferred, or imputed) political message. Although he didn’t actually join the Party until quite late in life, he became an artistic vassal of the Soviet system the instant he drew creative breath. How did he manage to survive the Stalin era while writing music that fulfilled his masters’ dictates (sort of) and yet revealed his own joys and sorrows (after a fashion)? My writing-hero Michael Steinberg nailed it when he called Shostakovich “a man who could [neither] commit himself to heroism or to moral and intellectual slavery.” Every time we dip into his music, we are confronted by the enigma of someone who created much and outlasted everything, but at enormous personal cost. Did he serve his audience – his community – well?

He may have served them best when he was most true to himself: for example, his Ninth Symphony aggressively poked holes – with a smile – in audience expectations. After Beethoven, fans assumed every Ninth to come would be a major milestone, filled with Deep Thoughts and Valedictory Remarks. Shostakovich would have none of that. (Oh friends . . .) Instead he came up with something short and frisky. “Musicians will love to play it,” he said, “and critics will delight in attacking it.” He was right on both counts. Soon after the work’s 1945 premiere, Soviet critics found fault with its “ideological weaknesses.” It had utterly failed “to reflect the true spirit of the Soviet people.”

You can almost hear Shostakovich anticipating those critics in the first movement, its merry progress punctuated from time to time by gassy blasts from a trombone (presumably a jackbooted Trombone of the Soviet People):

That was from Petrenko’s complete Shostakovich cycle for Naxos. Shostakovich’s symphonic output was wildly uneven, but it can be divided into ostensibly personal (= wayward, “bourgeois”) and public (= sends a social message) works. Of the latter, surely the best-known is No. 5, which, like Beethoven’s Fifth, utilizes a (now familiar) struggle-ending-in-triumph narrative. And what, you ask, is “social” about that? Coming soon after he had been scolded by Stalin and his minions for writing bourgeois, “formalist” music, Shostakovich allowed the Fifth to stand as an apology, “a Soviet artist’s response to justified criticism.” (See intended, inferred, imputed, above.)  If you’ve never heard the Shostakovich Fifth or listened to it lately, here’s a most excellent taste:

 

The finest of Shostakovich’s public symphonies are not those that mimic the outward structure of Beethoven’s Ninth, like Nos. 2 (“To October”) or 3 (“The First of May”). Those are simple-minded, and their poetry is even worse than Schiller’s. A more perfect union of music and moral/cultural suasion (let’s not call it propaganda!) came with No. 7 (“Leningrad”) and – especially – No. 11 (“The Year 1905”), both of which took a transformative community experience and electrified it with orchestral narrative, creating story-soundtracks that united the audience in visceral understanding.

By the time he composed No. 11 in 1956–57, Shostakovich was an old hand at film scoring. Now he used his sure sense of cinematic technique to mount a widescreen portrayal of the infamous “Bloody Sunday” massacre, in which the Tsar’s troops killed hundreds of peacefully protesting workers gathered at the gates of the Winter Palace. The composer wove nine familiar revolutionary songs into the symphony’s thematic material, which meant that its melodic content – and the words of the songs – would be instantly recognizable to most Russians. (They might still have quarreled over what the symphony was actually “about.” Was it a straightforward commemoration of an important pre-revolutionary event? An allusion to the recently suppressed Hungarian Revolution? Or a response to Khrushchev’s February 1956 “secret speech” to Party officials, denouncing the Stalin era’s terrorism? Why not all three? These were political concerns, not artistic ones. Intended, inferred, imputed.)

Symphony No. 11 was acclaimed by audiences and Soviet officials alike. It’s also been well served on recordings, not least because it explodes with orchestral power and color in all the right places. I recommend an attractive new release from Chandos (CHSA 5278; booklet here) featuring John Storgårds leading the BBC Philharmonic; it’s spacious, detailed, and impactful. Since YouTube doesn’t offer Storgårds’ performance, you’ll find a link to Andris Nelsons’ recent Boston Symphony Orchestra recording below. The last two movements, a funeral oration (at 36:01) followed by a noisy call to arms (at 48:29), are particularly engaging. (And if you’d like a bit more background, here’s a link to a BBC Proms performance that begins with additional history.)

 

The remarkable survival and recycling of these “message” symphonies suggests that, as they say, history may not repeat itself but it certainly rhymes. One hopes the future will bring forth more odes to joy than calls to arms.

I am indebted to Mark Evan Bonds’s  History of Music in Western Culture (Pearson, 2013) for the discussion of J. A. P. Schulz.

Header image: V. E. Makovsky, Study for “January 9, 1905”

Founded in 1979, Audio Classics, located in Vestal, New York, is one of the world’s foremost dealers of vintage, used and new audio equipment. They specialize in classic McIntosh components and are experts in repair and restoration. Here we interview Steve Rowell, president of Audio Classics.

All photos by Howard Kneller unless otherwise indicated.

Frank Doris: How did Audio Classics get started?

Steve Rowell: The beginnings of Audio Classics started when I was just a kid. My father loved music. The sound of Mitch Miller, Patsy Cline, Lawrence Welk and others were playing in our house all the time.

He brought home a General Electric stereo system and it sounded great but it didn’t have enough bass for me, so I bought a 12-inch speaker from a local electronics store, built a cabinet for it and had more bass. This was the early 1960s and I became interested in the music of the era like the Beatles, The Kingston Trio, The Beach Boys and Jan and Dean. I learned to play guitar, joined a band and my interest in sound reproduction grew.

At college I studied communications and worked as an assistant to the engineer at the college radio and TV station. When I should have been studying my college courses I spent my time reading the Audio Cyclopedia and every audio magazine available, and started building and assembling audio systems.

FD: Tell us about how the company progressed from the early years to today.

SR: The business actually started with the April 1979 Issue of Audio. We ran a small ad in the classifieds promoting the fact that we bought, sold, traded and repaired audio gear. This was our primary form of advertising along with sending out catalogues on newsprint, right up until we went online in 1993. We had one of the first audio websites and it was just a duplicate of our Audio ad.

In 1987 the business moved from the basement of my home to the basement of the US Postal Service building in Walton, NY. Other than the stairs we all learned to hate, because heavy audio equipment had to go up and down them, it was a great location. We had a wonderful landlord, the US government. It was a Federal offense to tamper with our building!

I’ve been lucky to have great people join me along the way. Mike Sastra, now vice president and general manager has been with us for over 30 years. Listening to music is a lifelong passion of Mike’s. At age eight Mike swept the floors and emptied the garbage at the local music store to earn enough to buy his first hi-fi system, an early stereo setup with detachable fold-out speakers. Over the years Mike developed an affinity for panel speakers and has owned several from Magnepan, Acoustat, Sound Lab and MartinLogan. In 1989 Mike began helping out part-time at Audio Classics, eventually joining full time.

In addition to sales, Mike specializes in the physical detailing and mechanical functions of pre-owned equipment. He also evaluates new audio products and performs critical listening trials to match components that work well together.

Ryan Kilpatrick, service manager and sales consultant, joined us when he was just 19 and he’s been with us over 20 years. Ryan began to play guitar at age eight and now plays bass. Ryan has 20-plus years of experience and is one of our most knowledgeable sales consultants. Ryan also manages our service department and personally oversees all work brought into Audio Classics. He acquired service knowledge from working alongside McIntosh technicians and engineers and from manufacturers’ training.

Frank Gow, the son of former McIntosh president Gordon Gow, joined us to fill in one time while my wife and I took a trip to Europe – and he never left. He said he would work for us until the day he died and he was true to his word. He left work around 2:00 pm on June 2, 2011 and passed later that day. Frank was extremely knowledgeable and friendly and took all the time necessary to help customers. He regularly racked up the costliest phone bills in the days when we were charged for long distance service.

Richard Modaferri is an inventor and consultant to Audio Classics. Rich has established himself as one of the world’s foremost authorities on tuner and loudspeaker design. He was a senior engineer at McIntosh Laboratories from 1968 to 1974, and designed the acclaimed MR77 and MR78 tuners and the famous “RIMO” filter used in McIntosh tuners. Rich has been granted US patents for loudspeaker phase shift bass-loading and for the infinite slope crossover.

George Melnyk is an independent service consultant to Audio Classics. He is a retired IBM senior engineer with eight patents and 15 publications to his credit. George headed a group of individuals who restored and rebuilt a Robert Morton pipe organ at the Broome County Forum Theatre in Binghamton. If it’s electrical, mechanical, metal, wood, analog, digital, solid-state or tube, George can make it work.

Kevin Schmalz began playing the French horn when he was 12 and started building audio equipment and speakers while in high school. Considering the improvements in the quality of electronic components that have happened over time, Kevin realized that older equipment could often be tweaked to sound better. He was a member of the Caracas Philharmonic Orchestra during the 1980s. Kevin recently retired from NYSEG (New York State Electric and Gas) and now is having a blast working for Audio Classics. His specialty is restoring vintage tube and solid-state equipment. We also have Chris Bailey, Derek Dranchak and others on our staff including Aaron Race,  Audio Classics’ shipping manager. He joined us in 2008 and makes sure your purchase is packed well and shipped safely.

FD: How did you get so adept at finding and repairing vintage gear? I’ve seen some amazing pieces in your shop – how do you find them?

SR: Since we’ve been in business for over 40 years, sellers find us thru our advertising, word of mouth, our website, Facebook and our weekly e-mail newsletter.

We have invested more than $30,000 in test equipment and use the correct factory-authorized parts and procedures. We also turn work around quickly thanks to our incredible shipping department.

FD: How did you develop such a close relationship with McIntosh?

SR: For years we were the largest unauthorized McIntosh dealer, but Maurice Painchaud, McIntosh’s vice president of operations and Sidney Corderman, vice president of engineering at the time, realized the importance of what we did. We created value for their new products by supporting and promoting their pre-owned products. They would send customers looking for those items to us.

FD: Have you moved over the years?

SR: Yes, to Vestal, NY on November 17^th, 1997. We didn’t know better, so we closed the location in Walton on a Friday afternoon and opened in Vestal on Monday morning. Two 50-foot tractor trailers moved on Saturday and Sunday. We’ll never do that again.

FD: What are some of your favorite vintage components?

SR: Well of course the classic McIntosh components: the C11, C20 and C22 preamps, the MC275 and MC240 power amplifiers, and others that have grown in interest as the years have gone by. We can’t keep McIntosh preamps and amps in stock. USA-made Marantz components are great and always in demand, as well as Infinity IRS and Quad ESL loudspeakers.

FD: How about products available today?

SR: We look for components that have enduring excellence and “authority,” outstanding performance, value and reliability, and timeless design. Potential classics are being developed by high-end audio manufacturers today. Time alone will tell which will endure. I could list many companies, among them Mark Levinson, Legacy Audio, Luxman, Bowers & Wilkins, Klipsch, Marantz, Magnepan, Revel, JL Audio, Yamaha, JBL, Audio Research, Ortofon and more.

FD: How much of your vintage gear sales are to the US, and how much goes overseas?

SR: The US market represents the major portion of our business. In the early days there were far more vintage collectors in the Pacific Rim and Europe. That business seems to have dropped off over the years.

FD: How much used versus new equipment do you sell?

SR: Today it’s probably close to 50/50.

FD: I understand that around half of the vintage components in Ken Kessler’s book, McIntosh “…for the love of music…” were photographed from your store. Can you tell us a little bit about that? For those who haven’t seen the book, it’s a gorgeous, in-depth, lovingly-researched work about McIntosh, from the founding days, to first-hand details behind the historic Woodstock sound-reinforcement system, and beyond.

SR: Ken had a professional photographer come up from New York City and they set up a photo studio in one of our listening rooms. They simply pulled items from our museum and inventory shelves, took the components into the room and shot them.

[Audio Classics has an honest-to-goodness vintage gear museum at the front of the store. If you’re into this stuff, your eyes will pop out. – Ed.]

FD: Can you tell us a little about some of the old-guard people you’ve met?

SR: I only met (company founder) Frank McIntosh once. I had made arrangements to interview him in Scottsdale, Arizona once and made it to Scottsdale, but they had just taken him to the hospital and he passed shortly thereafter, before I had a chance to interview him.

Sidney Corderman and Maurice Painchaud were both gentlemen and the true brains behind McIntosh. Sidney could recall things from memory like transformer winding data that would send others scurrying for files. He was a humble giant in the industry, but few know about his engineering accomplishments.

Maurice was the individual that kept the factory running and product going out the door. Again, little is known of his importance to McIntosh except for who worked close to him.

FD: Have you experienced a resurgence in analog equipment sales – turntables, cartridges, even open-reel machines?

SR: Yes; interest in analog seems to be coming back. I think listening to a good record is more engaging, both in the process of playing the record and in having the ability to look at and read the large album cover.

FD: How do you meet the challenges of staying in business when brick and mortar audio stores are having a tough time?

SR: We started out as a mail order company and became a retail store, so we’re well-placed to offer the advantages of “click and mortar” to our customers. It’s easier for many to shop by phone or on the web rather than take the time to physically visit a store. But if you want to audition components in person, we’re set up to do that as well.

Audio Classics is more than just a store. We have a museum of audio equipment spanning the years, right as you walk into the building. We are a group of musicians, music lovers and audiophiles who like making new friends.

Audio Classics
3501 Vestal Road
Vestal, NY 13850
800-321-2834
www.audioclassics.com

In Issue 117 Ken talked about his involvement with the LA and Broadway productions of Hair and how it led to the spinoff Peace Parade musical show…and romance. The story continues here in the years 1972 and 1973.

Rehearsals for Peace Parade are on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons the week of a show. I am the co-producer (with Bruce Sachs) and director. Tuesdays have the band and individual performers coming in to rehearse their solo songs. It takes about an hour for a performer and the band to rehearse each song. On Thursdays, we would have everyone in and run through the whole show, stopping whenever we had a musical adjustment or cue to add. We only rehearsed on the weeks we had a show and we did not have a show every week. It was fun and there was never any drama.

At the moment we have Cornell University and Amherst College on the docket. That covers the coming month as we can only do shows on Sundays. My thinking is that each cast member does the song that they do in Hair and we do some of the full-cast (known as the “Tribe”) songs and I add and assign some hits of the day. This was a gentle process with everyone agreeing on the material. Peace Parade was high-energy and loaded with talented performers like Susan Morse, Paul Jabara, Roy Bittan (who later joined Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band) and many others. The band was excellent. The money was good, and it was worth everyone’s while.

Thursday evening, we finish up with the performers. I instruct everyone to meet up at 9:30 Sunday morning at the bus stop on 8^th Avenue and 48^th street. After rehearsal, the Hair folks head across the street to the Biltmore Theatre (now the Samuel J. Friedman Theatre) for that night’s show. The band stays with musical director Gil Slavin to go over how to handle the space between the songs. The idea is that whole show flows and there is continuity. Some of the musicians have played together before so the band is tight in no time at all.

We all meet Sunday morning and get on the bus. Paul Jabara is trying to flirt with me while I am sitting with Susan. He tells me he was voted the most well-endowed performer (like that matters to me) in Hair. Susan and I laugh, it is a good time and people are joking around and having fun.

We arrive at Amherst College. The chairman of the homecoming committee meets the bus and directs us to the field house where the concert will be held. It is getting near showtime. The place is packed with around 5,000 college students. This is both a concert and a protest. Every male student in the house knows that within weeks of graduating or leaving college they would most likely be drafted and sent to Vietnam.

The band starts up and we all go on stage. The audience greets us with a huge roar and we break into “Aquarius.” We be rocking. In the moments between songs, Paul Jabara jokes with the audience. He is spontaneous and hysterical. When solo songs are sung, the rest of us do backup vocals, making the songs sounding rich and full and almost like the recordings.

At the end of the show during the last song, “Let the Sunshine In” we go out into the audience and bring some of them up on stage to join in. The audience response is fantastic, and the show is great. It was quite a rush for me and good fun for all. There are more college dates sprinkled though out the year.

One night the whole Broadway cast was sent to Madison Square Garden to participate in a fundraiser for George McGovern, the Democratic nominee for president. It was a long night made even longer by Jimi Hendrix being on the bill. (I have hung out with Jimi. He was very cool. I’ll tell the story in an upcoming issue.) At the beginning of Jimi’s performance, he stumbled backward into his amplifier. His band stopped the show and helped Jimi off the stage and back to his dressing room. I was standing right on the side of the stage and it was apparent to me that Jimi was really stoned. (This was the last time I ever saw Jimi; he died a few months later.)

The thing was that Hair was due next and we had to wait because Jimi’s people said he wanted to come back and finish his set. We waited for what seemed like an hour and a half before they retook the stage. By then it was after midnight and most of the audience had left. The cast members were pissed off because it was late and more importantly, because they had a performance the next day. When Jimi finished his set the Tribe took the stage and a couple of them grabbed my wrists and dragged me up with them – my last time ever on stage as a so-called performer – for “Let the Sunshine In,” the one song they had time to do. We sang to a sparsely-occupied Madison Square Garden.

As the year moved forward Hair became less popular, Vietnam wound down and the Peace Parade bookings fell off.

Bruce and I didn’t even realize there was a remarkably successful number one album out named Jesus Christ Superstar, by British songwriters Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber. The double album featured Murray Head and Yvonne Elliman. It was released in the states on Decca Records and ultimately went on to sell over eight million copies worldwide. The album is loosely based on a musical dramatization of the last week of the life of Jesus Christ. At the time it was considered by some religious groups to be outrageous.

The album had been out for a while when booking agent Mike Martineau called Bruce. “I got a guy from St. Louis, a high school teacher named Bob Ede who wants to do a show based on the album.” He needs performers, talent…can you help him, Bruce?”

Bruce calls me and says, “we are back in business Kenny!” With the help of Susan, I rounded up all the Peace Parade folks and we added a few more (including actor Billy Barnes and Denny Belline of Denny Belline and the Rich Kids (and Perry Como’s nephew) and I book our rehearsal space because Bob wants auditions. All good; after just one day everyone from Hair and Peace Parade including the band gets an offer. Bruce and I become the artist representatives – it was Bob Ede’s show, but soon afterward he went back to St. Louis to teach. The road was not for him.

It was decided that there would be a Black Jesus and a white Judas. (The later Broadway show did the opposite with a white Jesus and a Black Judas, my dear friend the late singer/actor Carl Anderson). No one ever had a problem with our choice except one promoter in Myrtle Beach who had an issue with the fact that the Black and white cast members stayed in the same house. We did not get pushed around by that and Bruce and I never told the cast about it.

Mike Martineau booked a ton of shows, mostly college dates. The money was rather good; not quite Peace Parade money, but this was a full-time bus and truck tour and for the most part stayed on the road doing five or six shows a week. The weekly totals combined were much better than for Peace Parade.

For us to present this show certain changes had to be made. We changed the name from Jesus Christ Superstar to Superstar, The Original American Touring Company (OATC). We took the position that this was not a show but an oratorio. That meant no props or costumes, just the music, and of course we had a lighting designer, Ken Anderson, who created a fixed and followspot lighting script that dramatically enhanced the stage performance.

On the road again. We are in Lubbock, Texas (home of Mac Davis and Buddy Holly) and Ken Anderson must go home for five days on family business. He gives me a script marked up with lighting cues and draws a picture showing where the fixed lighting should hang and where they had to be focused. I am calling the lights – and there are 167 timing cues that must be called correctly. I have three high-intensity carbon arc light follow spots, forty-eight hanging Fresnels and other fixed and adjustable-focusing lighting. (Focusing on fixed lights is done with flaps called barn doors.) In the afternoon, the crew hangs and focuses the lights on certain spots on the stage while I direct them.

A half-hour before the show the spotlight operators and I don the headsets and do audio and lighting checks. Ready, steady, the show starts, and I am calling the cues. Shoot, boy, this is fun! I get caught up in the timing and the drama of the show. There is an involvement and participation I’ve never felt before. I get through the show with only one minor miscue. Hot dang, that was a cool experience! Five days and three shows later Kenny comes back and takes over the lights. No way I could really replace him though; at best I was a somewhat satisfactory but temporary replacement.

We toured for about a year and a half and then the Robert Stigwood Organization finally opened Jesus Christ Superstar on Broadway and in roadshows. Our bookings slowed down and as we sputtered to a stop, we all appreciated the wonderful experiences we had. Bruce and I went on to other successes in the music business as did most of the performers. A few of them, like Joe Morton, had really big success in movies and television. It was bound to be with a group that talented.

Susan and I stayed together for another year or so. She was in the Broadway show Godspell, and then she sang on Ron Dante’s single “Sugar Sugar” by the fictional Archies. By then I was on the road with Labelle (as told in Issue 113), and we drifted apart. She and Ron Dante got involved and later moved to Los Angeles. We stayed friendly, occasionally seeing each other, talking on the phone, and communicating on Facebook. She later married Woody James, a well-known Jazz musician and college professor.

Everyone who knew her was shocked when she passed away a couple of years ago. Susan kept her cancer a secret to the end.

This is how it is in show business; you’re brothers and sisters for a time and then go your own way.

All of this talk about the new NFL season has me thinking back to my days as the publisher of Rolling Stone magazine. Each summer the business and editorial sides would huddle as a team, and brainstorm on new ideas for special issues and feature stories. In 2007 we spent part of that time kicking around some ideas for the NFL. During an advertising sales call with the league we had learned that they were running out of ideas for the Super Bowl halftime show. For those who have watched that festivity over the last few years you can probably see that their concerns were valid. As bad as some of these performances have been, the ones before 2000 were pretty unwatchable.

When I was growing up, halftime show headliners were people like the Spirit of Troy, the University of Southern California Trojan Marching Band. In fact, up until 2001 the halftime shows were all thematic, tied loosely to the market in which the big game was being played. Maybe the most cringeworthy was 1983’s “Kaleido SUPERscope (A Kaleidoscope of Color and Sound).” I recently watched a video of that performance and the debate that was underway in the YouTube Comments section was about whether the performance was worse than the actual game it interrupted. That debate continues on but the theme-driven approach to the halftime show would end in 2001.

In 2002 the NFL locked down U2 (the band) to host the next halftime show and for a moment it was like the world stood still. U2 delivered an arena-like performance that moved not only the folks in that stadium but anyone watching across the globe. It was such a hit that it got other established bands to rethink football. The Super Bowls that followed would feature Paul McCartney, The Rolling Stones, and perhaps the greatest halftime performer of all time, Prince. These cats owned that midfield stage and delivered performances that were often more engaging than the game they halved.

 

 

 

As great as this was the league knew it couldn’t last. The list of potential performers who were of this magnitude was limited and would soon reach its end. The NFL also knew that they needed help. They couldn’t do this all on their own. The thought was to move away from single acts and build out a viable “concept” concert as opposed to a literal run-through of any bands’ half-dozen best-known hits. This couldn’t be a return to the goofy concepts they had embraced before. This had to embody a genuine coolness that was easy for anyone to “get.” That opened the door for Rolling Stone to not only think about a special issue with a few bells and whistles. It prompted us to think REALLY big.

I’m not sure who came up with the idea first. I’m not even sure how close the final product was to the original concept. But I do know that when the idea surfaced everyone started nodding in unison. This was a winner and it was greenlit right then and there. I don’t even think we had to run it by the owner, Jann Wenner, before we got underway with building it out.

The idea was simple: “The 100 Greatest Guitar Songs of All Time.” It was a clean and easy concept, and less difficult to execute than you would imagine. An all-star panel of judges could easily be convened to kick around their thoughts and the list could probably be nailed in a matter of days. In fact I think that the entire edit package was actually completed that quickly.

As the readers of Copper probably know, lists work. They spark spirited debate and are easy PR sells to the media. Advertisers quickly get the concept and move fast toward finding a part of the content they can own, their own private beachhead. But as is the case with every “simple” idea there’s a chance that it might get hung up on a snag or two in the execution. That snag usually involves talent and ego. When you start to rank guitarists, ego comes quickly into play and things can get chippy right quick. Boy did they ever do just that here!

One of the key features of any magazine special issue is the cover. If you want to make a special issue really special you can do a gatefold cover. Gatefolds open off of the main front cover to fold out and create a larger canvas for the art director to play with. They also create a larger billboard for the lucky advertiser whose ad runs on the cover’s flip side. It’s usually win-win, draws a lot of press, and ensures that the issue will become a collectible one day.

For the 100 Greatest Guitar Songs issue we knew right from the start that we wanted to do a gatefold cover. It just seemed like a natural, and everyone thought that it should be an ensemble shot. We would fill the space with a photo of some the best guitarists in the game. This kind of shoot, however, can present some speed bumps, most of which involve logistics. But in this case the challenge didn’t just slow things down. It brought everything to a halt.

For these big ensemble shots, a lot of people assume you are lucky enough to get everyone together in one room to pose for a group picture like you might do at a wedding or reunion. Instead, you shoot individual photos and snap together something that’s like a finished puzzle. With schedules as they are you never want to exclude anyone. You especially don’t want to pass over someone that you believe is a must-have because they couldn’t meet your deadlines. So we shot them separately. Usually, this works.

In this case the wish list of folks we wanted on the Rolling Stone cover emerged almost immediately. B.B. King and Buddy Guy were everyone’s top choices. Then there were the old-guard rockers: Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, and Carlos Santana. And of course, guys from my generation like Eddie Van Halen, Prince, and Kirk Hammett had to be there or it would seem disjointed. Lastly there were the young guns, the cats who were quickly making a name for themselves through their virtuosity and fun, fresh approach. It was decided that John Mayer and Omar Rodríguez-López from The Mars Volta would get those two open slots.

This was the A List. A backup list was assembled in case someone was unavailable or just didn’t want to play along. Once everything seemed in place the outreach began. Every conversation has its own story and these exchanges in and of themselves could make their own Copper article. But the big one was this:

When Prince was contacted he asked who else would be on the cover with him. The editor ran through a sampling of names that Prince could expect and when they got to John Mayer, Prince promptly replied, “I’m out.” He was dead set against being on a guitar greats cover with John Mayer. In short, he didn’t think that Mayer had the kind of talent to belong on that “stage.”

I’m pretty sure that the editors at that point were saying to each other, “well, we’re not going to forgo having Prince on this cover for a guy who sang ‘Your Body Is A Wonderland!’”

Next: fast forward to our conversation with Eric Clapton. He had been an early advocate that Mayer be included in the ranking. When he heard that Prince would turn down the cover if Mayer was on it, Clapton responded by saying, “Really? Well then I won’t do it if John Mayer isn’t on the cover!”

Soon the issue began to lose a lot of its steam. The debate over whether we needed Prince or instead Eric and John burned through valuable time. After a lot of hand-wringing the decision was made to just go with Clapton and Prince.

But by then their schedules wouldn’t allow it. So in the end, Mayer made the cut and got onto the cover.

 

That decision left a sting I guess that stuck. Prince would later watch Mayer perform at the next Grammy awards. In a brief moment during a pop music medley the television cameras shifted to Prince watching Mayer play. As I watched the telecast I wondered if anyone outside of our circle had any idea what was behind Prince’s obvious scowl. Man!

This kind of discord is exactly what you don’t want when you are pitching a big idea to someone like the NFL. They want everything to be as smooth as glass. That’s what you need to demonstrate if you are going to help them pull off an event of Super Bowl magnitude.

So what was the big idea we had for the NFL for their next Super Bowl? We developed a concept that we thought would  change the dynamic of the halftime show. Our idea was tied to the 100 Greatest issue’s theme. Imagine that the stage assembled mid-field is shaped like an electric guitar. The one difference is that this electric guitar has multiple necks, say eight. The backing band sits on the part of the stage that’s the body of the guitar. Then one by one, various guitar legends take to the stage and walk down their own guitar neck, and there they play a lead from a song that they made famous and that’s on the Rolling Stone 100 Greatest list. The last song would bring the band together into one large all-star jam with wailing for the ages.

The NFL loved it. The record labels loved it. The musicians loved it. We will never know if the fans loved it because it died. But it would have been something to witness. Imagine the guys who ended up on that cover of Rolling Stone sharing a stage so magnificent, on television’s biggest night? It would have broken through a construct that everyone at the league was afraid to dismantle. It would have opened up a lot more performers to participating in an event that’s such high risk/reward. Performers certainly don’t make much money taking that stage. But it can be a game changer, for all involved. Oh well…

The 100 Greatest issue took longer than expected to come together and the NFL quickly developed cold feet. Sensing that they had moved on, Rolling Stone pushed the issue back and it ultimately fell in the month of May. In the end the NFL’s decision to “pass” was likely helped by their ability to secure Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers as that year’s halftime act. Though I have to say TP and the gang delivered an incredible performance. The following two years brought forward Bruce Springsteen and The Who. Both ripped the roofs off of their respective stadiums. But that would be that. From there forward, the show would often be overshadowed by mishaps and controversial artists and performances. What a lost opportunity.

 

 

 

In the end this “100 Greatest Guitar Songs” issue declared Chuck Berry’s 1958 rock classic “Johnny B. Goode” to be the best guitar song of all time. I can dig that. That’s where it all began for so many of us. The list that follows is at times hard to grasp. It’s quirky and debatable. However, that’s what these things ought to be. They spawn the kind of great debates that friends of mine and I have managed to go back and forth with throughout our lives. Some still have gas to this day. Ultimately, that’s the real gift of a special issue of this kind.

 

 

 

Rolling Stone hasn’t always gotten it right. But this is one of those moments where I gotta say, our heart was in the right place. The issue did OK but it lacked the firepower that an association with an organization like the NFL usually provides. That would have catapulted the entire experience to legends status. There would have been download programs, promos on Coors Light 30-packs, in store, on premise, at checkout signage, radio live reads and more. Those did happen for that Super Bowl. They just didn’t involve Rolling Stone or the 100 Greatest issue. The good news? There’s still time to pull this idea off and boy do I hope that the NFL tries to score while there’s still time left on the clock and they have the ball in the red zone…

 

Header image: Coldplay performing at Super Bowl 50. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Arnie Papp.

Rumer has one of the most beautiful and captivating voices I’ve ever heard, a sublime mix of purity and expression. Her 2010 debut album, Seasons of My Soul, went platinum in the UK and earned a MOJO magazine award for Best Breakthrough Act. Since then she’s released a number of albums of originals and covers.

Her latest (released August 14) is Nashville Tears, featuring songs by Nashville Songwriter’s Hall of Famer Hugh Prestwood. Some have been previously covered, most notably “Hard Times for Lovers” (the 1979 Judy Collins smash), “Ghost in This House” (Shenandoah, Alison Krauss) and “The Song Remembers When” (Trisha Yearwood), while others haven’t been recorded until now. You could file this under “country,” but Nashville Tears sounds more timeless than tied to the genre.

This is songwriting at its absolute finest, melding memorable melodies and poetic lyrics as if they were inevitable and inseparable. I have a habit of mentally rating songs from A-plus on down, but consider certain songs to be “off the meter.” Songs like, say, “Like A Rolling Stone,” which transcend mere and ultimately arbitrary rating systems.

There are songs like that here. “Ghost in This House” is a heart-rending story of a lost love: “I’m just a whisper of smoke/I’m all that’s left of two hearts on fire/That once burned out of control/And took my body and soul.”

 

“The Song Remembers When” tells of a person who thought they’d forgotten about an early love, until hearing the lovers’ favorite song again and realizing the memory is encoded in the song forever. If you’re afraid of dying, “Bristlecone Pine” will bring you consolation, and I wish I was a skilled enough writer to convey how profound this song really is. And you might think a song about adopting a stray cat would be trivial, but “Oklahoma Stray” is almost unbearably moving.

 

Though Nashville Tears is full of country heartache, it’s not monolithic in mood. “Deep Summer in the Deep South” a quintessential upbeat rockin’ country song. “Hard Times for Lovers” sounds oddly celebratory considering the subject matter, and of course there’s that irresistible refrain. That said, “Heart Full of Rain” is as stone country as it gets.

The musicianship is insanely good, as you would expect from a gathering of A-list Nashville players. Kerry Marx’ guitar solo on “That’s That” is concise incandescent perfection, and Scotty Sanders’ Dobro intro on “Hard Times for Lovers” makes you wonder why they didn’t do it that way in the first place. The album blends classic country instrumentation like acoustic guitar, Dobro, pedal steel and acoustic piano with a real – a real! – string section (arranged and conducted by Rumer’s husband and long-time musical collaborator Rob Shirakbari), for a seamless blend that wonderfully complements Rumer’s sweet, soulful – no, heavenly, voice. This is an every-note-in-place today’s Nashville production, but not overly manicured.

 

The sound quality (I listened on 24-bit/44.1 kHz on Qobuz) ranges from really good to excellent. Although recorded in different studios, there’s a richness of musical texture and a pleasing consistency of sonic presentation, though some cuts have more bass warmth. And Rumer’s voice is just gorgeous, and placed up front in the mix where it belongs.

I am reveling in Nashville Tears. And yeah, maybe shedding a few when nobody’s looking.

******

I interviewed Rumer (via e-mail) about the album and other subjects.

FD: How did you get in touch with Hugh Prestwood, and what made you decide to do an entire album of his songs? The melodies, combined with his emotionally resonant lyrics, almost feel like they were written specifically for your voice and style, but they weren’t. What would you say about that?

Rumer: Perhaps that was the reason I was attracted to the songs in the first place, that there was something in me that resonated with these songs.

FD: The new album has a timeless quality – not surprising considering the pedigree of the songs. Did you intentionally go for that, as opposed to trying to create a more “contemporary” Nashville country sound?

R: I always try to aim for a timeless sound, to create something special that people will want to come back and listen to again and again and that stands the test of time.

FD: Many of the songs are extremely moving – my particular favorite is “Ghost In this House.” “Oklahoma Stray” is simply heartbreaking. Which songs on the album are your favorites or move you the most?

R: “Oklahoma Stray” was the first song I heard by Hugh Prestwood and it is probably the most moving song on the album. All the tracks move me in different ways. I love “June It’s Gonna Happen,” because that song has such a beautiful magical melody and lyrics that seems to sweep you away with it.

FD: “Hard Times for Lovers” must have been an obvious choice. When Judy Collins had a hit with it in 1979 it seemed kind of lightweight to me, though admittedly irresistible. 41 years later it sounds much more profound. What was it like to do that song?

R: “Hard Times for Lovers” is a fun song to sing. Originally my vision was to have Carly Simon sing it with me as a duet which would have been amazing, but in the end I was too scared to ask her.

FD: Nashville Tears has a warm, rich sound – in fact, all of your records do. This seems like a deliberate artistic decision, and the sound of your records, from Seasons of My Soul onward, complement your voice. Do you, Rob Shirakbari and the people you’ve worked with have a deliberate “sound” you strive for?

R: I think the sound we strive for always is only to make it timeless and beautiful. I think the warmth comes from all the elements and all the attention that’s put into the production and the mix. A lot of time is put into making sure the final sound has a great balance and isn’t too harsh on the ear. I think the warmth of the sound is probably down to my personal taste.

FD: The caliber of the musicians on the album is insanely good. What was it like to work with them?

R: Yes, the musicians were absolutely incredible. It was probably the best experience of my life working with these musicians. I have never before experienced working with such talented musicians who not only play brilliantly and effortlessly but who understand songs and play to the lyric.

FD: You seem to like slower-tempo songs. Why?

R: I’m not really consciously attracted to slow songs. I think it might be because I can communicate the emotion with my voice better that way.

FD: To go outside talking about Nashville Tears for a few questions: I was at Damrosch Park (in Manhattan) when you did that 2017 concert with Dionne Warwick. What was it like working with her?

R: It’s great working with and knowing Dionne Warwick. Because my husband is her longtime music director I have also had the opportunity to see her in concert many times. She has such an old school approach to performing and entertaining that really doesn’t exist anymore. The sheer number of performances she has done in her lifetime is staggering. Her work ethic is incredible.

FD: I have to squeeze in a question about the La Honda (band’s) album, I See Stars, which is one of your first efforts, sounds like a great lost sixties record from Laurel Canyon and was released a while after it was recorded. How did that come to see the light of day?

R: The La Honda album was never released back in the days when we recorded it because I left the band at its height to look after my mother who was dying of cancer at the time. So, years later, because we are all still very close friends, I thought it would be fun to release it.

FD: How comfortable are you with the demands of fame? Would you rather have a lower profile and be a “musician’s musician,” or have Beyoncé-level status?

R: I don’t consider myself to be a famous person at all. I’m very proud of the work that I’ve done and I am very grateful for the fans I have and for their loyalty over the years but I’ve never had the desire to be famous. I’ve never felt comfortable doing interviews. I want to be recognized for my work, but I like being a part of my community where I live.

FD: Even before the pandemic you didn’t tour a lot, and of course now you have a new addition to the family to give you more incentive to be home-bound. Once touring starts again, what do you foresee as your plans for live performances?

R: I think everyone who works in music is wondering what the future will hold regarding live shows. I do have live shows planned for the spring of 2021 and I’m also planning a global live stream event. It’s good in a way, to learn how to do more high end global live stream concerts – not just because of the pandemic but also because not everyone can attend a tour date in a particular country at a particular time.

In a way I am glad to be learning about best practices in regards to live streaming concerts now because I will get a chance to play for fans in the Far East and South America, Europe and even places in England that are not on the beaten path. Also, there is an assumption that people can attend concerts and some people may not be able to due to old age, serious illness or infirmity. So I welcome these changes and hope that I will be able to reach more people with high quality live stream concerts.

******

I asked Fred Mollin, Nashville Tears’ producer, for details on how the record was made.

FD: Let’s start with an audio geek question, but an important one: what kind of mic did Rumer use?

Fred Mollin: As producer, I made a choice based on comparisons of other old tube microphones and we wound up using the top of the line Blue tube microphone, [and] we then compared their capsule choices until we found our best match for Rumer’s voice.

FD: Did you record Nashville Tears mostly “live” in the studio, or more conventionally, doing basic tracks and then overdubs? Could you describe the recording process?

FM: The album was recorded with the musicians live in the studio over the course of three days. 10 am to 5 pm. This is a very standard way to work in Nashville and we have the finest musicians in the world. They are the most instinctual and brilliant players, and lovable.

Rumer sang guide vocals, live with the band, which really inspired the players on the floor, and as our norm, we saved all vocal passes and many of those vocals were used along with other passes we recorded at a smaller studio later as overdubs.

The recording process for the tracks lasted three days; we then went to a smaller studio at Sound Emporium, and Rumer did vocal passes and some background ideas over the course of the next week or so. After that, we went to my home studio to put the best vocals together carefully in my normal efforts to make sure the best moments were on each final lead vocal.

After vocals were locked, we added a few instrumental overdubs that weren’t done on the tracking days. After that a few outside background vocalists came in and overdubbed their parts.

The string [parts] were written by Rob Shirakbari, [except for] one string arrangement done by my old partner and best friend, Matt McCauley, and they were recorded shortly after at Sound Stage studios in a new expanded room. My long-suffering engineer, Dave Salley, did his absolute best in recording the album and then mixing began at his home studio. It was then on to mastering with Greg Calbi at Sterling Sound.

I personally just produce to facilitate what I feel is the artist’s vision. We had a lot of discussions and I understood exactly the kind of record we were going to make, so I cast very carefully to make sure the musicians who were on the floor were a perfect combination for this artist and the songs. I don’t listen much to contemporary country radio. We wanted to honor the songs of Hugh Prestwood in doing them in a classic fashion.

We recorded everything on Pro Tools at 96 kHz.

FD: The album was recorded at a number of different studios. Why?

FM: Starstruck Studios is a large [one], perfect for tracking, but after the three days of tracking, we needed to make sure we weren’t spending unnecessarily on a large tracking room for Rumer alone. We went to Sound Emporium Studios, as they have a small and cozy vocal room where we did overdubs.

We decided to do any instrumental overdubs and vocal listening and compiling at my home studio for obvious economic and comfort reasons. I always like to do this.

Some other studios were used because we couldn’t get back into Sound Emporium for overdubs, and we used Sound Stage for our string [recording] day. There are so many tremendous studios in Nashville, but I loved my first string session at Sound Stage and, that’s another reason that makes Nashville so important as the live recording capital of the US.

FD: The album was primarily engineered, and mixed by Dave Salley, and mastered by Greg Calbi. Were they a big part in giving the album a unified sound, even though it was recorded in different studios?

FM: I try to always use Greg Calbi to do the final mastering; besides being a dear friend for so many years I think he is the best there is.

With Dave Salley as engineer and mixer, the sounds are going to be beautiful and he knows how to mix for me. Rumer was very involved in each part of the album, even more than many other artists I work with, and Dave worked closely with Rumer to get the mixes right for her, as well as for me. The studios truly aren’t important when you have a great engineer, great musicians and a great vocalist. If the same engineer is recording all of it, and I’m helming the project, it’s going to have a unified sound. I can imagine the only way it wouldn’t would be if there were different producers for different songs.

******

Frank’s Top 10 Rumer Playlist (in no particular order):

1. “Take Me as I Am” (Seasons of My Soul)
2. “Slow” (Seasons of My Soul)
3. “Dangerous” (Into Colour)
4. “Am I Forgiven” (Seasons of My Soul)
5. “Ghost in this House” (Nashville Tears)
6. “Reach Out” (Into Colour)
7. “June It’s Gonna Happen” (Nashville Tears)
8. “It Could Be the First Day” (Richie Havens cover from the album Boys Don’t Cry)
9. “Are You There (With Another Girl)” (Burt Bacharach/Hal David cover from the album This Girl’s in Love)
10. “Where Does It Go?” (from the La Honda album I See Stars)

I have found a book written by one of the best bass players on the planet about how to study Music and Life. I capitalize Music and Life because Victor L. Wooten does so in his book, The Music Lesson: A Spiritual Search for Growth Through Music, first printed in 2006. Tony Levin, a venerated bass man himself with a 40 year session pedigree and long stints with King Crimson and the Peter Gabriel Band, said of this work, “Victor Wooten has been doing things on the bass that nobody dreamed of, and we bass players can’t help but hunger for some insight into what inspires him and how he does it. Here, as in his Music, he surprises us and gives us more depth than we expected, more of himself than many would dare.” You may know Wooten from his work with Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. I know. Normally a reviewer would put a quote like that at the end of a review to emphasize what the reviewer had been expressing. However, I trust this is not a review but a celebration. I cannot give you my opinion on this incredible story. I can’t because the concept of an opinion with regard to this work is trifling. The experience of reading this book changed my playing, my approach to practicing (which I never relished but regarded as necessary drudgery), and yes, this read indeed changed my life. We could talk about all that but who cares, right? So, let’s talk about the story. Early on Victor talks about a strange man named Michael who shows up unannounced in Victor’s apartment. Not at the door but inside his locked apartment. Michael became a friend, a prophet, and a seer in Victor’s life. On my first read I made a mental note to ask Victor someday whether Michael was real, or a tool Victor was using to get his point across. By the second read I realized that did not matter and I was letting that discussion in my head get in the way of what Victor was trying to show me. If Michael was a literary tool then Wooten is a brilliant writer and teacher in his own right. Wooten was able to separate himself from the Michael character and come across genuinely as confused as the reader. If Michael was real than Victor is one of the luckiest guys on the planet. One of the most powerful statements comes in the Prelude chapter (sort of a Chapter 2; open the book you’ll see what I mean) that ultimately validates everything that comes after. “I’m not sure if ever outright lied to me, but I know that he frequently stretched the truth. Whenever I questioned him about it, he would answer with, ‘Truth? What is truth? Did you learn from the experience? Now that is important. And by the way, if I always tell you the truth, you might start to believe me.’” Think about that statement. What Michael was showing Victor was not entirely how to play Music as much as how to play Life. What he was trying to get Victor to understand, and thus the reader, was that Michael couldn’t teach him truth. If I got this right, he was trying to get Victor to see he needed to absorb everything he was being shown to develop his own truth. Once the reader embraces that, he or she can follow the examples of Michael and file them away for themselves. httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gg4hrXgTvsI In an early chapter Michael challenges Victor to come up with ten key elements of Music. Admitting there are thousands, they made a list. They named these elements Notes, Articulation, Technique, Feel, Dynamics, Rhythm, Tone, Phrasing, Space and Listening. Victor spends the next ten chapters, which he calls Measures, discussing and dissecting each. At the beginning of each Measure is a statement that hits you with a sense of what the Measure will be like. For instance, in the beginning of Measure Two titled Notes is the line, “If you stopped playing notes Music would still exist.” Victor sets up your thinking up to be open to the message of each Measure. A recurring theme is understanding how we learn skills. When we are learning a language as youngsters we learn by immersion and participating. I am 66 years old and I can conjure up the sound of each my children’s beginning attempts at language. They were mimicking the sounds they heard from us. What came out once they started didn’t make any sense, but they were grooving. A personal aside. We are all guilty of mimicking them back with baby talk, but that probably doesn’t help this process. No one put us in language classes and graduated us up levels as we grew. Kidlings are surrounded by language and it looks so cool they want to participate. Then by three they can communicate pretty well, and we can’t get them to shut up.

Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Jason Mouratides.

With Music, we need to study and practice theory to advance to high levels, much like a college language student, but to play Music all you need is to surround yourself with players. Practitioners of styles like jazz and classical benefit from theory study and long hours of practice, but that work is not as crucial as playing along with those better than themselves. There are just as many styles where listening and playing along are all that is required, such as folk, blues and bluegrass. I can practice blues scales and the effort is dry. I put on a Buddy Guy record, pick up my Strat and magic happens. Sure, doing the scales helped but there are millions of self-taught players who couldn’t tell a pentatonic from a carburetor and play like the wind. My mother never used a measuring cup making her spaghetti sauce and she made the second-best sauce west of Sicily. (The best of course, is my wife’s.) Victor uses his experiences with Michael to articulate all the elements, each with their own Measure. Michael uses nature, a cast of characters all very Michael-like but each with a different message, and the occasional jam session where Michael would play guitar with Victor following on bass. The deep dive into each element has lessons in Music but are also about Life. I am beginning to believe the two cannot be separated. Victor has a remarkable story in which Michael takes him to a park outside Nashville after they played together at a gig. As you can imagine this happens at three in the morning. After talking about the sounds of the lake and forest around them, Michael begins to sing in a low mesmerizing tone. After immersing himself in listening Victor felt a wet lump hit his lap. It was a bullfrog who happened to be a friend of Michael’s. Then looking around Victor sees they are surrounded by frogs, deer, racoons, and all manner of the night community. Victor closed his eyes and immersed himself again. He felt Michael stop and he opened his eyes. Michael lifted a sleeping snake from Victor’s lap and led the snake to the ground. Michael then discussed how creatures could hear; after all the nocturne cacophony is all about them singing and talking to each other. But they could feel his Music as well. Feel is one of the elements and musicians immediately identify that with their feel on an instrument. It is also about the feel of the Music around you, not just with a band but all around us every day. All band musicians have had moments when something snaps in a tune and a zap flows through the band. Everyone feels it and looks at each other in awe. The misguided believe their talent causes that, but Michael will tell you it has nothing to do with talent. One must be ready for the moment. httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9XDUBDMNuk In 1975 I was in a band that played rock reminiscent of Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. The lead guitarist scored a gig for New Year’s Eve. We were thrilled; New Year’s gigs were always a blast and beat the crap out of sitting home and watching a ball drop. When David told us where we were playing, we literally did not believe him. David was a bit of a prankster. The American School for the Deaf is the oldest such school in the country and still in West Hartford, CT. Apparently, the entertainment director had caught us playing somewhere and contacted David. We were certainly skeptical, but a gig is a gig. That night was incredible, a memory I cherish. Those kids danced their asses off. We were talking this over at a break, marveling at the tempo of the dancers matching the songs. Our opinion was they could feel the beat through the floor, and that certainly had to be true. We could feel that. One of the teachers we were talking with told us the floor was a part of it, but didn’t we notice the kids stopped immediately at the end of the song? She pointed out the floor was still shaking from the kids stomping around but they stopped because they could Feel that the Music had stopped. The Music Lesson is an incredible journey into the mind and Music of Victor L. Wooten looking into your mind and your Music. You do not need to be a musician to appreciate the lessons of this story. My belief is if you read this, and you definitely should, a high percentage you will look for an instrument you’ve always wanted to try but believed you couldn’t pull off. This book will show you the way. Tony Levin stated that ‘Victor Wooten is the Carlos Castaneda of music.” A very apt comparison. I would add, Alice in Wonderland. Enjoy. Then enjoy it again. Then get a copy for your best friend. Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Jason Mouratides, cropped to fit format.

QSC GX7 power amplifier.

It was a good decision that led to decades of steady growth and put the company in a position to invest in digital technology and eventually back into loudspeakers.

JS: With John and Barry on board, with John handing the financial aspects and Barry the sales and marketing, it allowed you to focus on design and engineering.

PQ: I was struggling to simultaneously run the company, design new guitar amps, manage inventory, and all that…I have my moments as a designer, but I’m not particularly good at maintaining everyday things like inventory or finances. “What do you mean our checks are bouncing? I just put money in the account two weeks ago!” (laughs)

So, Barry took over the customer [relations] side of the company and his brother John, who was finishing his business degree, joined us with some actual business knowledge. And it turned out that the three of us had complementary skills and temperaments, so we worked well as a team.

JS: As someone with a foot in both the musician and engineering camps, one of the more fascinating perspectives you have from being in sound reinforcement is the challenge of letting an audience hear what each musician is playing, as opposed to just presenting an overall ensemble “sound” to a large audience.

Given that most live music using acoustic (that is, non-electric) instruments, even full orchestras sometimes, are now projected through PA systems, do you think that calling them “acoustic” performances is now a misnomer?

QSC KW153 1000-watt powered 3-way sound reinforcement speakers.

PQ: OK, a complicated question. Let’s go all the way back to the 1920s. I have an extensive collection of vintage 78 RPM records, [and] I’m an amateur student of popular music history. The main purpose of what today we would call a “bar band,” was to be a dance band.  People wanted to go out to a dance hall, and there needed to be a good loud band to get the feet moving. Back in the day, that required what we now call a “big band.” Trumpets, trombones, saxes, drums, bass and so on, all playing acoustically. And if you’ve ever had the experience of listening to a live big band, they’re plenty loud. You have to yell to be heard over [them], just like with an amplified band.

The onset of PA systems in the 1930s allowed singers with comparatively soft voices to croon into the microphone and fill a hall. That technology carried into the era of popular singers like Frank Sinatra or Bing Crosby, who were then backed up by a smaller band. And then in the 1950s you had the onset of amplified guitar and bass [playing] along with amplified [singers] like Chuck Berry and people like that. And in the late 1960s we kind of turned everything up to 11.

But all through that time, you were principally hearing the live acoustic sound of each instrument, even if it was an amplified guitar. It was expected that the guitar amp was going to do the job of filling the hall. The PA system was only intended for a voice, or possibly an acoustic guitar or something that could not fill a hall on its own.

When I was getting into the music business, that was the model I had in mind. I didn’t really want everything to come through one big PA, because, heck, if that’s what you wanted, why not just play the studio album at high volume? It would be a cleaner recording.

QSC Wideline 10 WL 2102-w line array.

I wanted the experience of hearing live music and being able to focus my ears on whichever performer I was most interested in. But there’s a limit, of course, when you get to stadium-sized concerts, as to just how loud you can be on stage and still have a hope of covering the audience. So inevitably, PA systems became the way to do it. Even though there were those fascinating experiments that the Grateful Dead tried, where each of them had a giant slice of PA for their own use…I have to say, I went out of my way to hear that rig at one time and…it wasn’t really any better sounding than a well done PA of similar size.

So now we’re in an era where everything does come through the PA. Fortunately, the sound quality is much better than it was in the 1960s, so we can get much more headroom, more clarity; there’s a lot more science [involved in live sound reinforcement].

Nowadays, “acoustic” is basically the word for “unamplified.” An acoustic guitar or acoustic piano produces a usable amount of sound by themselves – not enough to fill a stadium, but [enough] to fill a living room – and I’ve even heard four South American guitar players fill the  Irvine Barclay Theatre, a 750-seat concert hall, with four unamplified Spanish guitars. Yes, you had to be respectful and listen quietly, but they produced a perfectly adequate amount of sound.

But today we’re in an era where you have an electric guitar plugged into an amplifier that produces a good sound, that is then miked or connected somehow to a PA which produces even more sound, and then points [the sound] in a number of different directions, including back at the performer.

JS: Taking the subject a step further – in what ways do you think that “pure” acoustic concert venues, such as Carnegie Hall or the Ryman Auditorium (home of the Grand Ole Opry from 1943 to 1974), and the construction of acoustically-proper musical performance spaces are no longer relevant because of the sophistication of today’s sound reinforcement systems and the demands and expectations of the concert-going public?

PQ: There are traditional forms of acoustic music – opera, symphony orchestras, chamber orchestras — and part of the deal is that you’re [going] there to hear the pure, unamplified sound. That’s just part of the art form. We will always have those performances and they will need to be done in acoustically well-designed halls to provide a nice listening experience for an economically viable audience size.

Europe has some really wonderful concert halls, but they don’t hold enough people to “pay the freight” if you will, unless you make the ticket prices unaffordable. [That said], I think [one of the most] interesting things these days is that there are some serious attempts to improve [or augment] the acoustics (of a space) electronically. So you can have a hall that can be relatively “dead” for plays or speaking events, but also be [made] “live” for [performances] like a symphony orchestra.

JS: Is any of the work that QSC is doing involved with that technology?

PQ: We have our Q-SYS platform. (JS: Q-SYS is a software-based networking platform that offers audio processing, control and many other functions.) I know Meyer Sound has explored [the process of transforming] an acoustic environment [with their Constellation acoustics-enhancement system]. It’s a very expensive way to go, but interestingly, it’s less expensive than building alternative spaces for different performances – let’s say you wanted a good hall for plays and a good hall for concerts. You might have to build two separate buildings, or [else] settle for compromises. [On the other hand] if the room is electronically adjustable you could have one hall serve both [functions] at a lower cost.

QSC Q-SYS components.

JS: So, the use of a PA in “purist” applications may not necessarily be a bad thing. And it kind of goes back to your original explanation about PAs used for sound reinforcement, as opposed to sound reproduction.

PQ: Yes. [On another note], history will someday look back this COVID-19 era being a period of not being able to go to large gatherings, and it may or may not leave a permanent impression on how we choose to entertain ourselves in the future. That will be a wait and see.

JS: That raises another point: the ubiquity of pre-recorded tracks, outboard effects and the use of Auto-Tune on vocals have increasingly blurred the criteria for audiences as to what constitutes a “live” music performance in a concert setting. Has the PA system transformed from being a sound reinforcement system designed to amplify the actual voices and instruments in a performance, into an extension of the recording studio? And what about the role of the front of house mixing engineer?

PQ: Well obviously, the musicians have to make the music, but the [mixing engineer] is going to determine the overall balance and the relative mix. So yes, they’re going to have to work together, and the mix engineer needs to have a clear idea of what the band is supposed to sound like. He or she is an absolutely critical part of any musical performance larger than a typical club band.

 

Making life easier on a gig: the QSC TouchMix 16 mixer.

The clarity and the articulation of the PA gear is crucial, and that is an area that has steadily improved over the years. It wasn’t until the late 1970s when I personally heard a PA system that succeeded in being both loud and reasonably clear, where you could actually hear the lyrics without straining. But even then, it was still not what I would call “hi-fI,” but rather a loud, clean blare, if you will. The modern live sound system has approached true fidelity to the point where the only real barrier is that sound can become warped by traveling long distances through the air. Things just don’t sound the same at 500 yards away, even if it’s loud enough.

JS: Do you think that because of COVID-19 and so many musicians now streaming live concerts from their homes, it will create a return to audience demand for more pure performance authenticity and less use of Auto-Tune and effects in these live concerts?

The Interblock 45, a guitar amp you can hold in your hand.

PQ: In the entire history of recorded music going back to the acoustic recording era of the early 20th century, you’ve had audio-quality critics. Initially, they would comment on whether or not you could [simply] hear a performer on an acoustic record sufficiently well to appreciate what they were doing. When electric recording set in, they started complaining about “unnatural effects” such as a crooner singing right up against the microphone while the band is at a natural distance. It’s allowing his weak voice to become a dominant part of the mix! That’s just totally wrong! If a singer can’t belt out to be heard with the band, he has no business being on stage!

Well, I’m sorry. In acoustic recordings, the [performers] had to crowd around the horn in an unnatural way. Caruso would get closer when he was singing softly and back away when he gave one of his famous crescendos. (Laughs) Recorded performances were unnatural from the beginning!

Pat Quilter today.

So technology gives us tools to enhance your sound, whatever it may be. Auto-Tune is [just another] way to get an interesting sound. Electric guitars got a lot of criticism when they emerged in the 1930s. They didn’t “sound right.” They weren’t just louder, they were different-sounding. But brilliant performers made them work and developed a whole new range for the instrument. [On the other hand] if you’re a bad guitar player and you get an electric guitar, you’re just going to be a louder bad guitar player. Some people use Auto-Tune as a crutch for not being able to hit a note. But I’ve heard strongly Auto-Tuned performances from artists where they’re kind of playing with [the] effect. It doesn’t diminish the value of someone who can really hit the notes. There’s room for [artistic] variety, in my opinion.

In the next installment Pat Quilter will discuss the differences between home and pro audio, loudspeaker driver design, advances in audio electronics and a whole lot more.