Rhino Records laid off a lot of people two weeks ago. Some think the company is dead, while others, including former Popdose staffer/new Rhino guy John C. Hughes, implore us to be patient. As the poet said, “Time will tell just who has fell, and who’s been left behind …” But no matter what happens going forward, I hold in my hands a box set that will become part of the awesome Rhino legacy, and further confirm that Rhino is/was one of the last great record labels.
Big Star: Keep an Eye on the Sky is the shit, that thing the fanboys have been waiting more than 30 years for. It’s the validation, the vindication. It’s the drug, so open your veins, because now when your friends look at you blankly when you mention Big Star, you can sit them down, stick this in, all 98 tracks spread over four discs, hand them the beautiful 100-page booklet that comes with the set, and wait for them to finally acknowledge you as the trendsetter that you’ve always thought yourself to be.
That booklet I mentioned is as good a place to start as any. As usual, Rhino didn’t just dig up a bunch of moldy photos and hire some hacks to write trite copy. Following opening remarks from Ardent Studios owner and producer John Fry, we’re treated to a wonderful essay by noted Memphis musicologist Robert Gordon. Gordon gives us an oversight, the crucial details of Big Star’s career, such as it was. The story begins in Memphis in 1971 with creation of the band’s original lineup of Alex Chilton and Chris Bell on guitars, Jody Stephens on drums, and Andy Hummel on bass. The brilliant first album, #1 Record, that went nowhere. The departure, and later the death of Big Star co-founder Chris Bell. The even more brilliant second album, 1974’s Radio City, that once again got lost in the music business shuffle. The fateful decision to try one more time, the result being an album, Third/Sister Lovers, so dark and so fragile, that it wouldn’t be released for four years, and then only by a label, PVC, that had little to lose. (more…)
One day a year or two on either side of 1995, I was sitting in my kitchen — something I found myself doing more and more during the mid-nineties – and the phone rang. I picked it up, and the man’s voice on the other end asked for me, told me his name (I can’t recall it), and said he was calling from Paul McCartney’s office in London. Assuming it was a ruse, but not positive that it was, I proceeded cautiously as the man explained that he was calling to check on my schedule to determine if I would be available to work with Paul during a certain portion of the following winter. Slightly amused, I considered saying “no, I’m afraid I’m busy,” but thought better of it, and assured the voice that I would definitely do what I had to do in order to make myself available. Before he wound up our conversation, I explained that I was delighted to receive the call, and of course I was excited by the prospect of possibly working with Paul, but could he please explain why he called me in particular, given the nature of the music I was known for producing. He replied that Paul always liked to explore all the options, thanked me for my time, and hung up.
I sat in stunned silence for a minute, wondering how he could have obtained my home number – it must be a practical joke of some sort – so I phoned Sandy Roberton, a producer’s manager who represented me for a couple of years during the nineties, and asked if he would mind checking this guy out for me. Minutes later, Sandy phoned back and confirmed that this man indeed did work for Paul in London. More stunned silence for me, reflecting on the fact that Paul McCartney actually knew who I was, and might have even spoken my name. (more…)
Read that headline and weep, folks. In just two more weeks, the summer of ‘09 will be finito. Yeah, I know technically summer has a few more weeks of life but, who are we kidding? Once the Muscular Dystrophy Telethon goes off the air, the season’s deader than Freddie (That’s what I said.)
We have no time for heavy sentiment. Leave that to back-to-school shopping, pool closings and those Summer credit card bills coming back to bite you on the Coppertoned ass. We have two weeks left of fun, fun, fun. Break out the beach towels and crank up the pop music.
You’ll notice an inordinate amount of songs from the International Pop Overthrow collections, and for good reason. In the short time I’ve discovered this ongoing series of releases, I’ve become irrevocably hooked. You might as well, and can find these releases at the site that released them, Not Lame Recordings.
1978 was a pretty busy year for me, with four album releases and a family move to Los Angeles: Ted had Double Live Gonzo, a two-record live set at the beginning of the year, and Weekend Warriors toward the end of the year. We recorded the first Molly Hatchet album in Orlando, and did Heaven Tonight with Cheap Trick, again in Los Angeles. As with the Jeff Beck /Jan Hammer live album, for Ted’s live album we recorded a number of dates, and then sat down to listen to the material. Again, we found that most of the best performances came from one night (in this case, San Antonio), and we did some repairing in the CBS New York Studios – the only time I actually did any recording in New York City, and the only time I worked in a CBS studio. Live LPs in those days (and I’m sure today, as well) were carefully crafted affairs, designed to sound as if they were recorded at the show, but in actuality fairly worked-over in the studio to repair the mistakes.
Live recordings had tracks for the hall’s public address system and for the audience, to capture the size of the hall and the size and energy of the crowd; because they already carried a record of what happened onstage, we couldn’t depart very much from what was actually played, but if you were careful, you could either correct or completely replace the vocal and guitar tracks. We brought Ted into the studio in New York, and we had a pretty enjoyable time fixing up this album, since Ted can be fairly zany in front of a mike. At the end of one song, we heard Ted onstage yelling “San Antonio! San Antonio!” Right after we heard this, as the tape played on and Ted was still in place behind the studio microphone, he added “suck my bonio!” This produced much mirth and merriment in the control room (we were younger and less mature then) and we kept it for the master — it’s just a little buried in the mix. After all, Tipper Gore and the Parents’ Music Resource Center had yet to come along. (more…)
The last installment prompted a number of responses having to do with a couple of bands that I and some of the readers feel should have been more successful. I thought that before we continued with a little history, I’d give Popdose readers some titles from what I consider my “Greatest Misses.” For those who would like to explore a little, these are songs I produced that I consider outstanding in one way or another, but which never really saw the light of day. By checking these out, you may even discover an obscure band whose music you really like.
Mother’s Finest (covered in installment # 7) – “Truth’ll Set You Free” and “Mickey’s Monkey“
The Producers – (covered in installment # 7) — “What’s He Got,” “She Sheila,” “Life of Crime,” “Dear John,” “Back to Basics.”
Brownsville Station – “Who Do You Love” – A 1979 remake of the classic Bo Diddley tune recorded with the Record Plant Remote truck in the basement of the band’s manager’s office building in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The lead guitar, played by the late Cub Coda, is an original Sears Silvertone, and the speaker was built into the actual guitar case itself. I think this version is every bit as good as George Thorogood’s, which is now a classic rock radio staple.
Krokus – “School’s Out” – I did one Krokus LP in 1986, and I invited my daughter’s 5th grade class into the studio to sing on this classic Alice Cooper song.
Love / Hate — “Why Do You Think They Call It Dope?” This is a wonderful song from a band I discovered in a San Fernando Valley rehearsal studio and brought to Columbia Records in 1989 — more about them in a future installment.
LA Guns — “Rip & Tear.” I did one album with this band in 1989, and there will be more about them in a future installment. (more…)
In 1977, with the release of Cheap Trick’s In Color, I felt I was beginning to feel comfortable with my job, that I had earned a measure of respect in the music community, and that I was no longer banging my head against the wall at Epic. I was pretty happy with In Color. The Cheap Trick recording experience was really a pleasure. Every day, I was delighted to return to the studio to hear more of their music and to enjoy their humor. This project saw the development of a production process that became comfortable for me, and that I continued to depend on for most of my projects:
Song Selection
The selection of songs was (I swear) a democratic process, and a consensus of band, label A&R, producer, and to some extent, management. We’d pick about 14 tunes to record, and then when things got down to the wire and threatened to bust the budget, we’d discard the two or three least promising tracks. Frankly, as the project wore on and it became evident to all of us which were the most promising candidates for single release, I’d try to spend most of our time and money on those two or three cuts. Yes, there are band members who have claimed in print that I “refused” to do a song, or that I wouldn’t allow the band to cut a particular tune. This is sheer fantasy. The label had the last word, period. In the case of the Krokus record, we were literally assigned material to record, and the VP of Business Affairs had lyric approval on the whole album. I kid you not.
Pre-Production
This was my least favorite part of any project. I would prefer to have entered the studio and allowed the songs to develop naturally, but I considered it somewhat irresponsible to skip rehearsal of any sort – so I would listen to demos of the songs and make notes regarding structural and dynamic changes. We’d try them out in rehearsal; some would work and some wouldn’t. After the new arrangement was familiar enough, I’d zero in on the bass guitar / kick drum combination. Sometimes we’d change the kick-drum pattern in certain sections of the song, and do the same with the cymbals. I always told the drummer and the bass player that I thought the John McVie – Mick Fleetwood combination was about the tightest rhythm section in rock music. They felt like one big rhythm machine.
Then we’d spend some time on rhythm guitar dynamics, and leave the lead guitar and vocals completely alone until we were in the studio. Usually, pre-production lasted five days. Managers worried. A&R asked questions. I tried to assure them that this was good for the material, and that if you rehearsed the songs too much, they would become wooden. Sometimes they agreed, sometimes not. (more…)
To Popdose Readers: My apologies for not having noticed that some of you have been sending me comments on the web site. Jeff pointed out that I could see them right below the text, and I wanted to say thanks for the interesting messages. I will try to answer as many as I can individually from this point on, now that I know where to find them. I’ll also try to publish one installment per week. The past few weeks have been clean-up time here in the Berkshires, and I’ve been playing pick-up-sticks after a pretty serious winter. Next week I’ll be playing golf in the desert with a bunch of ancient record execs, managers and even a couple of musicians. After that, I’ll do my best to settle in at one installment each week. Thanks for your patience.
From my perspective inside the label, it was both fascinating and ridiculous to see the change in how I was assessed by my colleagues after Ted’s first LP went platinum in a matter of months. I’d be toiling at the label for five years, trying to sign bands, doing edits for single releases, and evaluating thousands of live performances and tape submissions. Now in a matter of weeks, it was suddenly “You’re beautiful, babe.” Traditionally, there has been so little consideration for prior accomplishments and accumulated experience in the record business that it really does come right down to “What have you done for me this week?”
I certainly hadn’t spent five years at Epic hiding or being shy, and I believe there was plenty of opportunity during that period for my colleagues to assess my musical judgment and taste; but now that I had accomplished something that improved everyone’s lot at the label, there was a rather abrupt change in the way people regarded me. One hit album made me a seasoned expert in the eyes of many in the music business – because I had both signed and co-produced this new artist. Of course, Ted’s opening slot on the Aerosmith tour and his new aggressive management by the Leber-Krebs organization certainly didn’t hurt album sales, but this was plain enough for everyone to see. Still, I had a new-found clout that was palpable. Suddenly the label was interested to know whom I would produce next.
Jeff Beck was an Epic act with whom I was familiar as a result of my being the A&R liaison with our British artists, who also included Argent, the Hollies and Argent’s lead singer, Colin Blunstone. I had spent some time with Jeff at his home outside London, where he showed me his hotrod collection and we played some snooker in the game room. Since the Yardbirds, Jeff was pretty much a solo act, and when he played live, it was usually with other well-known musicians (Carmine Appice, Tim Bogert, Rod Stewart, etc.).
When he teamed up with keyboardist Jan Hammer, they decided to do a live album, and I was assigned to oversee the project. This involved recording five or six nights in several cities, and then evaluating the recorded material to determine the best performance of each song. In order to do this properly, I had to have over 50 rough mixes, and Jeff wanted to fix up quite a few of his tracks before we compared them. (more…)
The mark of any great power pop album is its ability to not only stick in your head after the music has stopped, but its ability to make you want to listen to it over and over again. By pop, I mean: Catchy, rocking harmonies, hooky guitars, and driving, powerful drums, a la Cheap Trick, the Raspberries, Sweet and the Knack. Those groups are obvious influences on the self-titled debut album of Tinted Windows, a supergroup of sorts that consists of Taylor Hanson, James Iha (formerly of Smashing Pumpkins), Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne, and Bun E. Carlos from Cheap Trick. Clocking in at just under than 40 minutes, this 11-song collection sounds in no way dated or retro. The band goes after every track with such enthusiasm and energy that the fun they’re having gushes out of the speakers. Tinted Windows just may be this summer’s soundtrack record.
The band came together out of a mutual passion for straight-ahead rock and roll. Schlesinger, Hanson and Iha wrote the songs with one specific rule: no keyboards. This kept the sound a little raw. When it came time for a drummer, all three knew they wanted someone who played like Carlos. Instead of looking for someone like Carlos, they decided to ask the legendary drummer if he’d be interested in participating. Despite his busy schedule, Carlos felt he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to play on material he thought was so good.
The leadoff track (and first single), “Kind of a Girl,” has already received some attention from radio and the Internet. However, the rest of the record holds up to the hype that has slowly been building since the song was first released to the public. “Kind of a Girl” is quickly followed by the equally radio-friendly “Messing with My Head,” which features crunchy guitars by Iha and a great sing-along chorus. Meanwhile, “Can’t Get a Read” is a straight-ahead rocker that recalls the best of Cheap Trick, and “Without Love” brings to mind all that was great about the Knack. One of my favorites is “Cha Cha,” a nice little slice of glam rock that ensures Tinted Windows never get mistaken for any of the pop acts Disney’s forever churning out. Even when the band slows things down, on songs like “Dead Serious” and “Back with You,” the aching and earnestness comes off as sincere and not posturing. Although only 26, Hanson has the life experiences (married, four kids) that make what he’s singing so much more believable than the Jonas Brothers or Taylor Swift. (more…)
Wouldn’t it be cool to be Cheap Trick’s Robin “The Voice” Zander? I mean, the guy’s, like, 85 years old and looks the same as he did on the cover of Heaven Tonight; he can probably still woo any chick he wants from his nightly audience; and, even though he’s probably tired of singing “I Want You to Want Me” every night, he gets to sing “I Want You to Want Me” every night and hear the wildly appreciative applause of the dozens of people (or thousands, if he’s opening for Journey) who’ve come to hear him sing “I Want You to Want Me.”
But Robin Zander has a sensitive side, too. Exhibit A: “The Flame.” I absolutely love “The Flame.” There is nobody else—and I mean nobody else—who could take a line as bad as “Whenever you need someone to lay your heart and head upon” and make it sound like a bolt from Zeus himself. Cheap Trick take a lot of shit for recording it, but if there is shit to be taken, it should be Bob Mitchell and Nick Graham, who wrote the thing, partaking of said excrement. Cheap Trick turned their slow dance-by-numbers ditty into a towering achievement in the power ballad arts.
In 1993, Zander released a guest-heavy solo album, which did about as well as Cheap Trick’s studio output of the era (Woke Up with a Montster, anyone?). Amid the poppy hooks and all star cameos (Maria McKee, Dr. John, Stevie Nicks, and most of Tom Petty’s Heartbreakers), Zander placed “Time Will Let You Know,” a Big Statement treatise on taking the great leap of faith and allowing oneself to fall in love. Composed by Zander and someone named Billy O. Who (gotta be a pseudonym, like Prince on those Apollonia 6 and Martika albums—put your guesses in the Comments section), “Time” bundles hope, longing, and resignation to the fates in one massive lighter-worthy package.
The track starts quietly—just Zander and a piano, addressing the object of his affection in hushed exasperation:
Look at you and look at me
Now what are we supposed to be
We’re so afraid of something new
You know it’s true
You turn around and then it’s gone
You can’t be sure if it’s the same old song
We’re so afraid of everyone
Afraid of the sun (more…)
… And there was another one, posted right on the front of the checkout desk, that struck a chill as deep as January down Sam’s back. It showed a dismayed boy and girl, surely no older than eight, cringing back from a man in a trenchcoat and a gray hat. The man looked at least eleven feet tall; his shadow fell on the upturned faces of the children. The brim of his 1940s-style fedora threw its own shadow, and the eyes of the man in the trenchcoat gleamed relentlessly from its black depths. They looked like chips of ice as they studied the children, marking them with the grim gaze of Authority. He was holding out an ID folder with a star pinned to it — an odd sort of star, with at least nine points on it. Maybe as many as a dozen. The message beneath read:
AVOID THE LIBRARY POLICE!
–Stephen King, “The Library Policeman” (from 1990’s Four Past Midnight)
As a law-abiding citizen, which man are you less likely to be hassled by?
—
Last week Steely Dan lived up to their name, scoring a plurality of 47% of the action. The Kinks came in a close second with 41%, while the Beach Boys sat in the corner and watched with just 15% of the votes. Join us again next week as we celebrate Easter and address the thorny subject of Resurrections.
Rhino Records laid off a lot of people two weeks ago. Some think the company is dead, while others, including former Popdose staffer/new Rhino guy John C. Hughes, implore us to be patient. As the poet said, “Time will tell just who has fell, and who’s been left behind …” But no matter what happens going forward, I hold in my hands a box set that will become part of the awesome Rhino legacy, and further confirm that Rhino is/was one of the last great record labels.![paul-mccartney-picture-1[1]](http://popdose.com/wp-content/uploads/paul-mccartney-picture-11.jpg "paul-mccartney-picture-1[1]")
One day a year or two on either side of 1995, I was sitting in my kitchen — something I found myself doing more and more during the mid-nineties – and the phone rang. I picked it up, and the man’s voice on the other end asked for me, told me his name (I can’t recall it), and said he was calling from Paul McCartney’s office in London. Assuming it was a ruse, but not positive that it was, I proceeded cautiously as the man explained that he was calling to check on my schedule to determine if I would be available to work with Paul during a certain portion of the following winter. Slightly amused, I considered saying “no, I’m afraid I’m busy,” but thought better of it, and assured the voice that I would definitely do what I had to do in order to make myself available. Before he wound up our conversation, I explained that I was delighted to receive the call, and of course I was excited by the prospect of possibly working with Paul, but could he please explain why he called me in particular, given the nature of the music I was known for producing. He replied that Paul always liked to explore all the options, thanked me for my time, and hung up.
(2001)
(1997)
(1980)
(1979)
Vol. 1 (1998)
(1987)
(2007)
(1982)
(2002)
(2009)
(1979)
(2005)
(2008)
(1993)
1978 was a pretty busy year for me, with four album releases and a family move to Los Angeles: Ted had Double Live Gonzo, a two-record live set at the beginning of the year, and Weekend Warriors toward the end of the year. We recorded the first Molly Hatchet album in Orlando, and did 
Brownsville Station
Jeff Beck was an Epic act with whom I was familiar as a result of my being the A&R liaison with our British artists, who also included Argent, the Hollies and Argent’s lead singer, Colin Blunstone. I had spent some time with Jeff at his home outside London, where he showed me his hotrod collection and we played some snooker in the game room. Since the Yardbirds, Jeff was pretty much a solo act, and when he played live, it was usually with other well-known musicians (Carmine Appice, Tim Bogert, Rod Stewart, etc.).
The mark of any great power pop album is its ability to not only stick in your head after the music has stopped, but its ability to make you want to listen to it over and over again. By pop, I mean: Catchy, rocking harmonies, hooky guitars, and driving, powerful drums, a la Cheap Trick, the Raspberries, Sweet and the Knack. Those groups are obvious influences on the self-titled debut album of Tinted Windows, a supergroup of sorts that consists of Taylor Hanson, James Iha (formerly of Smashing Pumpkins), Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne, and Bun E. Carlos from Cheap Trick. Clocking in at just under than 40 minutes, this 11-song collection sounds in no way dated or retro. The band goes after every track with such enthusiasm and energy that the fun they’re having gushes out of the speakers. Tinted Windows just may be this summer’s soundtrack record.
Wouldn’t it be cool to be Cheap Trick’s Robin “The Voice” Zander? I mean, the guy’s, like, 85 years old and looks the same as he did on the cover of 
