LITMIR.BIZ

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As he lowered the tone arm onto the grooves I had no idea what to expect. Instantly I was hit by the sound of a haunting organ played over a steady medium-slow rock beat. It was a sad, almost gothic composition, worthy of Bach, and I had heard it before. It was a variation of ‘Air On a G String’ (I had paid attention during music appreciation classes in high school). At first I was under the impression that this was an instrumental as the intro was so long. After almost thirty seconds my illusions were shattered when a voice, which I took to be a black soul singer—but was really Gary Brooker—began singing those surreal, but now immortal, lyrics: ‘We skipped the light fandango, turned cartwheels ’cross the floor.’ What the hell did that mean? Who cares? These disparate elements blended so incredibly well together.

      ‘It’s a new group I’ve discovered and I took them into the studio for a few hours in order to make this demo. They’re called Procol Harum.’

      The name was as strange as the music. Of course the song is now so famous, so a part of our collective consciousness, that it seems impossible to recall a time when it didn’t exist. But there was I, probably the first American to hear ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’. For many it’s one of rock’s most seminal songs, and for me, it literally changed my life.

      Denny was not in New York just to play me ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’.

      ‘I’m working on a track called “Because I Love You” that I’ve already recorded with Georgie Fame,’ explained Denny.

      ‘I adore “Yeah, Yeah” by Georgie Fame. It always reminds me of my favourite jazz vocal group, Lambert, Hendricks and Ross,’ said I, hoping to impress Denny with my knowledge and sophistication.

      ‘I have already produced a British version of the song with Georgie but I want to cut it again with some of New York’s finest jazz players. I’ve booked what I’m told are some of the top session musicians,’ said Denny. He told me that he booked Clark Terry, a trumpet jazz icon, and booked A&R studios (owned by a young Phil Ramone) for three hours.

      ‘Wow! Can I have a look at the charts, Denny?’ (A chart is jargon for a musical arrangement.)

      ‘Charts!’ said Denny. ‘There are no charts. I’m going to ask them to “busk it”.’

      For the first time in our conversation I looked a little bewildered. It turned out that this meant that they would ‘fake it’—it was the first of many lessons in British English.

      ‘You’ll be crucified financially if you expect an eight-piece session band to make up an arrangement. This is New York, and obviously things are different in London but here everything is “union this, union that”. Clark Terry will charge you a fortune to sit down and sketch out a trumpet part while the studio clock is ticking. Before you know it you’ll be paying overtime. Do you normally “busk it” in London?’

      ‘Well, I suppose you could say that. I’ll book the studio for a whole day and we’ll record an A-side and then do a quick B-side. Everyone will hang out, smoke a few spliffs, and then we’ll record it after each musician has kind of worked out what they’ll do. By midnight we’ll have our take.’

      Oh, I loved this. It explained how, and why, the Beatles took nine weeks to record their album Revolver. In America albums were almost always recorded in less than a week, sometimes in one day. After this brief introduction to British recording techniques Denny became pensive. As he slowly turned a whiter shade of pale he said, ‘The session is taking place in an hour. What am I going to do?’

      I felt responsible for delivering such bleak news so I asked to hear the demo of Georgie’s song. He put the acetate on the deck and I heard the British version of ‘Because I Love You’. It was good but Denny was correct in his hunch that a group of New York musicians could give it a more authentic feel. What irony, he wanted to record in New York and I wanted to record in London—for that ‘feel’ thing.

      ‘I think I can probably write a decent sketch of the arrangement in an hour.’ Denny looked very relieved.

      All my years of paying attention in my high school music dictation classes paid off in that hour. I am fortunate that once I know the key of a song I can write out the notes without reference to a piano. I first transcribed the chord changes to the song and then added a guide bass part, a simpler version than the one on the record. I added a few indications for the drummer of where to play fills, and when to stop and start. Then I wrote the two trumpet parts on top of the same staff. With minutes to spare I had all the important ingredients of the arrangement written out on several pieces of manuscript paper. The same pages would suffice for all the different instruments. I rushed around to the Xerox copier—a cool new gadget in the ’60s—seconds later we were running down 48th Street, demo and charts in our hands.

      When we got to the studio everyone was set up and waiting for us. Denny had asked Harvey Brooks, a member of the group Electric Flag, to help with the production. Harvey had the band playing some 12-bar blues to warm up, while at the same time giving the engineer a chance to adjust the individual microphone settings.

      ‘Can I have the charts?’ asked Harvey of Denny.

      ‘Well, Tony here wrote some parts out, I hope they’ll be okay.’

      I knew they would be fine but I couldn’t help feeling very nervous—I had just crashed a party of musicians I had only dreamed about working with. I mean—Clark Terry. Come on.

      Denny’s acetate played as the band scanned my instant all-in-one arrangement. No one questioned anything; they just silently imagined how they’d interpret the music as they listened to the British version. Leaving the control room they took their places in front of the microphones. The drummer counted in and I immediately heard the efforts of my dictation pulsing through the air. (God bless you Dr Silberman, head of the New Utrecht High School Music Department, your protégé is finally having his moment of glory.) It sounded okay, a little stiff maybe, but Harvey and Denny immediately began to refine the band’s interpretation. I was so impressed by their ideas and clarity. This was the first big time, class-A recording session I was really a part of. I had also saved Denny at least two hours of studio time and extra musicians’ fees and he was going to get a killer backing track in the three hours he had booked.

      After an hour it became clear that things were not quite going to plan. It wasn’t in the total groove it needed to be. Turning to King Arthur I asked, ‘How do you feel?’ ‘Apprehensive,’ he pensively answered in a Shakespearian voice that would’ve impressed Sir Larry. While this kid from Brooklyn had seen that word in print, he’d never heard it uttered aloud. ‘Apprehensive’ was never in my spoken vocabulary and I had to think about its meaning in this context. Quickly I surmised that he wasn’t happy.

      A break was called during which Denny and Harvey talked about what to do.

      ‘It’s the bass player,’ said Harvey, ‘I’ve not worked with the guy and to me he’s out of his league.’ Brooks suggested that he should play the bass instead. Denny and I (having written the ‘chart’ I now included myself in the production ‘team’) thought this would hurt the bass player’s feelings. Harvey ruthlessly waived our considerations aside. ‘Fuck that! I’ll play the fucking bass!’

      Denny was getting the full-on New York City experience…all in one day. Brooks diplomatically told the bass player to sit it out, and asked if he could borrow the bass. The improved bass groove seemed to be what was missing after all! This was a big lesson for us, and even for the rejected bass player who sat in the control room as we were all caught up in the infectious groove. What was also so cool about this session was that everyone played at the same time. Shortly this ensemble method of recording would come to an end, the dawn of the ‘piecemeal’ approach was just around the corner; a method that continues to this day, for the most part. I was witness to the end of an era.

      Denny was to take the backing track to London for Georgie Fame to record his vocal. This was like science fiction at the time—the music recorded on one continent and the vocal recorded on another.

      ‘Tony, you’ve done a great job. I’m impressed with your expertise.

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