Inside the Studios, Part 1

The same technology that has seen incredible advances in computers, smart phones and the like, has also been incorporated into recording gear. It’s possible now to have your own recording setup in your home and produce high quality recordings, from beginning to finished product. Years ago the phrase “going into the studio” had a different meaning. Music was recorded in spaces ranging from two rooms to vast complexes. Every sound we heard, from popular music to commercial jingles was recorded by engineers and performed by musicians. The next few blogs will take a look at the studio scene: the musicians who found lucrative employment there, and the ups and downs that occurred in that setting.

We are going to start our series with a guest post from my friend and bandmate, drummer Tom McGrath. Tom has participated in studio work from both sides of the glass, and in this blog he relates an experience from his years as an owner and operator of a studio in New York City. His clients included well known artists such as Bernard Purdie, Art Garfunkel, and many others.

 To be on Time?...That is the Question

by Tom McGrath

In the world of the ticking clock (digital and second hand) we are always reminded that time is passing us by. Some of us have “…gone fishin’” while others have their day planned quarter hour by quarter hour. I for one can teeter between the fishin’ and organized chaos. When it comes to performing music, being on time has “necessity” written all over it. Here is my “being on time” story from some years ago.

While living in New York City in the late 1980’s I was fortunate to own a small but thriving production recording studio. Reel to reel tape was the techne’ du jour while digital was for the big boy studios. Just the same, the studio was known for its live rhythm section in support of singer-songwriters; many of who were honing their craft through producing demos. A drum magazine hired out the studio to produce and edit drum tracks. The audio tracks would be put to cassette, which would accompany the featured article. One such article was spotlighting Ginger Baker. Mr. Baker, the master of groove and improvisation, along with Jack Bruce and Eric Clapton, formed what was considered the first “power trio”, Cream.

The producer of the drum tracks had scheduled Ginger to arrive at the studio at 9:00 a.m. but reminded me that Ginger would probably not arrive on time, and that he, the producer, would arrive at 10 a.m. Running a business requires you to read between the lines, which I did in this case. I arrived at 8:45 a.m. to set up a few microphones and get the coffee and tea brewing. The ticking clock struck 9:00 a.m. while the rhythmic knock on the door followed seconds later. I was greeted with, “Hello, my name is Ginger Baker” with his distinct majestic English accent. He asked me if I allowed smoking in the studio, I didn’t, but how could I say no to Ginger so I obliged and offered him tea and half of a scone. The vocal narrative overdub session went great and in one take we heard the beginning of Ginger Baker’s life as an English skiffle drummer, simply magnificent.

Reflecting on this now, so many years later, it still percolates in my head, like the coffee that morning, “…even Ginger Baker arrives on time!” It meant a lot to me that someone of his musical stature understood that his timely arrival would or could affect other peoples’ schedule.

Whether you play in a pit orchestra, doing club dates, bar gigs or private parties, if the “downbeat” is 8 pm, 6:30 or 12 a.m., be on time. Allow yourself plenty of time to setup in a comfortable manner; anticipate unexpected travel delays or load-in snafus. Your late arrival could affect the other players on the date and potentially place a dark cloud over the entire gig. In the end playing music is designed to be fun and arriving on time will ensure that fun will be part of the experience.

Frank, Splank & Q Fly to the Moon

Our last arranging blog spotlights a perfect combination of the four elements that make up a hit recording.

The Composer

“Fly Me to the Moon” was written in 1954 by Bart Howard, an accompanist to singers such as Mabel Mercer and Johnny Mathis. The song itself was originally written as a waltz, then became a bossa nova, and originally was titled “In Other Words.” In 1960 Peggy Lee recorded the song, and after an appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” the publisher officially changed the title to “Fly Me To the Moon.” A recording of the song has traveled into outer space on both Apollo 10 and 11, and it was used effectively in the final scene of the movie “Space Cowboys.”

It’s a basic song harmonically , but employs an effective musical device, alternating between C major and the relative A minor, a device also effectively employed in songs like “The Autumn Leaves” and “My Funny Valentine.” It uses a straightforward 32-bar form divided evenly in half, with a nice outer space/romance metaphor: Fly me to the moon/Let me play among the stars/Let me see what spring is like/On Jupiter and Mars. By 1995, some 300 recordings had been released, providing Mr. Howard with lifelong royalties.

The Band

Big band aficionados all have their favorites, but there is little debate that the Count Basie Orchestra was swing personified. For close to 50 years, Basie led a band that could outswing any other. Directing subtly from the piano bench and leading by example, Basie inspired an infectious groove that made the ensemble internationally famous. Singers love bands that make them sound better, and the Basie band was on the top of their list.

The Singer

From the magazine The Atlantic in July of 2007:

“Frank Sinatra was the greatest vocalist in the history of American music, and elevated popular song to an art. More profoundly than other figure, excepting perhaps Elvis Presley, Sinatra changed the style and popular culture of America in the twentieth century.”

The Arranger

From the Quincy Jones website:

“Quincy Jones has been nominated for a record 79 Grammys and won 27, more than any other musician. He produced the best selling album “Thriller” and best selling single “We Are the World. He has participated as an arranger and producer of over 400 albums.”

These three musical giants collaborated on the 1964 album “It Might as Well be Swing.” Cut one on side one is the focus of our blog.

According to the liner notes, Quincy Jones flew to Hawaii for a musical sit-down with Sinatra and his accompanist, Bill Miller. He was working under a deadline, and as is often the case, deadlines inspire an arranger’s best work. As the needle touches down on this LP, the first thing you hear are Sonny Payne’s brushes on a snare drum establishing a perfect tempo. In the fourth bar a subtle skipping lick sets up two E’s an octave apart. This is Sinatra’s cue.

Regarding that tempo, we clock in at 122 beats per minute, a technical number mostly irrelevant to musicians. I have never once played in a band where the leader or the drummer enunciates “okay ready? 120 beats per minute” and starts the song. Tempos are felt, and Basie was the master of that. He often times noodled on the piano setting up the song and found that perfect groove before he cued in the band.

The first 16 bars of “Fly Me to the Moon” are exquisitely simple, and Sinatra can be partly credited for this. I recently heard an interview with Quincy Jones and radio host Jian Ghomeshi. Jian wisely brought up the subject of “Fly Me to the Moon” and Q (as Frank called Quincy) stated that the first 16 bars were not what they ended up with — Sinatra said, “that’s a little dense, Q” and adjustments were made. What we get is basically a jazz combo anchored by Freddie Green’s ever-steady strumming on the guitar, some tasty flute from Frank Wess, and a relaxed and swinging Sinatra. The saxes eventually sneak in and echo the notes of “in other words.” You’ll notice throughout that Sinatra, unlike many singers who love the sound of their voice, does not extend his words at the ends of phrases, but cuts them off, leaving space for the band to be heard. If you have the best band in the land behind you, it’s an obvious choice.

The second half of the song, at :40, introduces a delightful skipping lick from the saxophone section, and a very subtle backbeat riff from the trombones. Harry “Sweets” Edison, a Basie alum and frequent companion in the studios with Sinatra, enters with some muted trumpet at :52. Quincy Jones knew something that the great arrangers know. One of the best ways to get people to listen harder is to write softer. This sparse but swinging musical setting is building a tension that is finally released at 1:12, as Sinatra finishes the first go-round of the song. As Sweets lays into straight quarter notes, Sonny Payne sets up the band with two full bars of one-beat triplets. The ensuing crescendo unleashes the Basie band in all their glory. Quincy writes a paraphrasing of the melody with a wonderful “doit” (an upward fall) from the brass section.

Quincy doesn’t beat us over the head for too long. The decibels come back down and Q recasts the song’s melody. After a few hearings you literally can sing along with the brass section as the notes and the words match up. Frank Wess adds a bit of flute and the second half of the song is set up with an outrageous brass chord, complete with a downward fall. A more animated Sinatra sings “Fill my heart with song” backed by saxes and trombones, and the song chugs along to its conclusion. The musical term “tag” is a commonly used device as an arrangement nears the end. The last four bars, or the last sentence, of the song is repeated once or twice. Quincy writes a tag for Sinatra and Frank finally employs his marvelous phrasing that he learned from trombonist Tommy Dorsey early in his career. In the line “Please be true” he holds “true” for two full bars, refusing to breathe, singing straight into “in other words” — a marvelous musical moment. The Basie brass and reeds answer his phrases.

The ending we anticipate in Count Basie arrangements does not disappoint, in fact a slight twist makes it that much better. Most swing musicians know what the “Count Basie ending” is: three rhythmically-spaced chords followed by a low, emphatic “exclamation point.” The word “Splank” for Basie was coined by Sinatra — a good onomatopoeic description of the lick. Splank-Splank-Splank-Boom. In this case, Basie provides the splanky chords figures and Sinatra provides the closer with “you.”

This musical magic occurred in a mere 2:31. I’ve listened to this cut hundreds of times, thinking as an arranger, listening for something that could have been done slightly different, slightly better. It’s not to be found.

It’s perfect.

Spinning Notes

Our next arrangement is another Grammy-award-winning chart, this time written by saxophonist/keyboardist Fred Lipsius, and recorded by the band Blood, Sweat & Tears. Unlike “Ode to Billie Joe,” which starts serenely with solo acoustic guitar, “Spinning Wheel” announces itself majestically. Fred Lipsius writes an ear-catching brass fanfare that rips up to what musicians call a sharp 9 chord.

It certainly gets our attention.

Blood, Sweat & Tears goes on my short list of favorite bands. Their second and third albums produced multiple hits and are considered to be the highpoint of the band’s career. In 1969, as a saxophonist/keyboardist and budding arranger, not only did I want to play in Blood, Sweat & Tears, I wanted to be Fred Lipsius. I wanted to do what he did, but I had to remain content (along with my college roommates) to play “air horn” while listening to the LP’s.

In April of 2000 I was pleased to interview trumpeter Lew Soloff, a BS&T member featured prominently on albums two and three. He spoke about the popularity of the band, his admiration for Fred Lipsius’ creativity, and the differences of opinion that arose:

Lew Soloff

LS:    Blood, Sweat & Tears of course was in a class by itself. You know how big that band was at the time? That was a real trip. We were the second biggest band in the world to the Beatles.

LS:    The real creative force in that band was a particular arranger named Lipsius. I mean [Dick] Halligan also, but Lipsius was the prime creative arranger in the band. And he is kind of a shy, laid back sort. And oh man, he would bring in this chart or that chart and instead of saying okay we’ll do this, okay we’ll record this, it was like naaa that’s no good, naaa that’s no good. And finally he just stopped.

MR:    Yeah, he had less arrangements on those records than he should have.

LS:    Near the end, yeah. Of course. Because he didn’t want to bring something in and have it put down. And he was the real, amazing creative energy in that band. Actually so was Al Kooper, before I was there. I loved his songs. But it doesn’t matter. I’m always of the mind that if a band is allowed to just continuously try to be creative they’re better off than if they have a hit and they try to keep following that formula.

Lipsius got the assignment to make something special out of the song “Spinning Wheel” written by the band’s vocalist, David Clayton Thomas. The song had been recorded in one of David’s previous bands, but I’m sure it sounded nothing like the BS&T rendition.

After the brass pronouncement, the song builds from almost nothing. In verse one, Clayton sings two bars with only unison bass and piano; two measures with cowbell; then two bars with drums; providing a perfect setup for a “whap!” from the brass section. Clayton sings by himself “ride a painted pony, let the spinning wheel ride.” In the second verse, our arranger adds horn hits on beats two and four, and a very bluesy riff that climbs up to the flat 3^rd blue note.

The bridge of the song reflects the psychadelia that found its way into pop music in the late ‘60’s. The feel is smoothed out with long and rather dreamy notes, a touch of phase-shifting, and a reverb-drenched echo on the word “real.” Horns build up with a catchy triplet figure and lead to a restatement of the opening riff.

In the third verse Lipsius writes two of the most distinctive beats in any BS&T song. It’s a wonderful solo spot for the trombonist, climbing from a basement pitch and landing on its target note with the word “drop” sung by David Clayton Thomas.

When I write arrangements I always arrive at a spot that I describe as “okay what now?” At this point in “Spinning Wheel” we’ve had a terrific intro, a couple of verses, a bridge, a third verse, and I can picture Fred Lipsius at this “what now” moment. What “now” becomes is classic BS&T. A number of the players in the band were jazz guys, so Fred writes the jazz part. At the 2:00 mark, for 37 seconds, the rhythm section becomes a swinging jazz piano trio, backing up a solo from Lew Soloff that had all my trumpet friends green with envy. At the 2:21 mark, brass chords set up what I can only describe as a demented bugle call that ends on a lip-busting high G.

The final verse has it all, brass hits with “shakes” worthy of the Count Basie Orchestra, the blues riff and the sliding trombone.

Time to end the song. Again, Lipsius is faced with a decision. Rather than a standard fade out or a dynamic last chord, Blood, Sweat & Tears engages in a bit of self-indulgence, which we happily encouraged them to do via our support of their records. As the song reaches its climax, an unexpected switch to a 3/4 occurs. If people were dancing they would have fallen down. This merry-go-round waltz quickly gives way to a duet of recorders that transport us from a merry-go-round to a steam calliope. There is a brief battle with the brass, trading their measures back and forth. Eventually the brass give up and fade out, leaving the recorders to play a vaguely familiar tune. In fact, it’s a melody that’s been around for many years, known by two titles: “Have You Ever Seen a Lassie Go This Way and That Way,” or “The More We Get Together.”

The music grows more chaotic and at 3:56 Fred Lipsius adds a wry opinion on the whole affair with a few sarcastic notes on his alto sax. Drummer Bobby Colomby sums it up with his tongue-in-cheek comment, “that wasn’t too good.” The jovial response by the rest of the band seems to say, “you’re right, let’s keep it.”

One of the most significant bygone technologies in the recording business is the use of magnetic recording tape. The state-of-the-art in 1969 was two-inch multi-track tape, which allowed the band to record multiple parts and overdubs, and mix down to half inch master tape. Every studio had a ridiculously low tech tool that was kept within reach. If the record company needed a shorter 45 rpm version, out came the razor blade. In the case of Blood, Sweat & Tears, their most creative middle sections often were literally sliced out of the mix. If you have the 45, a greatest hits compilation version, or if you listen to the song on YouTube, you may hear the edited version. The Lew Soloff solo is sadly left on the studio floor, replaced by a few measures of Steve Katz’s guitar. Not bad, but if you’re used to the long version it’s jarring when you hear the song without the jazz section.

Fred Lipsius can be counted among the arrangers who were indispensable contributors in creating a unique sound for a band. Lipsius won a Grammy for “Best Instrumental Arrangement” for his contribution to “Spinning Wheel.”

On a personal note, I was thrilled when brass player Steve Guttman became the musical director for the resurrected BS&T in 1985. Steve was my best friend in high school and my first musical collaborator.

In our third and final arrangement spotlight, we’ll look at the perfect combination of song, singer, band and arranger.