Back in the Spring of 2003, I had the pleasure of briefly meeting Daniel Lanois (musical artist in his own right - but also producer of hugely successful albums by Robbie Robertson, Peter Gabriel, Emmylou Harris, Bob Dylan, U2 and Neil Young, to name just a few) - he was doing a meet & greet at the Victoria Long & McQuade. He was kind enough to sign my vinyl copy of his first album and take my copy of 'Better the Devil You Know'. "Woah, radical cover, bro" was his comment. He then went on to perform a set of his own material with drummer Brian Blade and a backing vocalist whose name escapes me. No bass. The performance was, of course, stellar and distinctive in the extreme - yet also very accessible. Non-musicians could appreciate the performance at least as well as musicians (and I should know - I brought a non-musician to his concert that evening. She was floored). Recently I bought a copy of his autobio Soul Mining and burned through it. I found it a fascinating read. One aspect that struck me was how he would often begin a recording project in search of a 'vibe' as he had the artist(s) perform in some well-chosen, atmospheric room - and then, when found, do what he could to foster and amplify that vibe while recording. It's hard to deny that songs like 'Somewhere Down That Crazy River', 'Where Will I Be' and 'Don't Give Up' positively drip with 'vibe' - and two of those tunes were recorded in an era not known for vibe beyond overprocessed cheese (i.e.: the '80's). No mean feat!
In a recent CBC interview with Emmylou Harris, she brought up the quote that 'style' was the product of inabilities. David Gilmour of Pink Floyd claims that he has 'slow fingers' and can't play fast - but nobody complains. His slow approach has produced very tuneful guitar parts with gorgeous tone. Jimi Hendrix's technique was hardly precise, but precision would probably have killed a lot of his musical character...and what if he could have sung like Otis Redding? Keep in mind, he'd been thrown out of his school choir because his teacher thought he was tone-deaf. Would Jimi have been such a committed guitarist if he'd been a strong singer?
Shortly after Curtis Leippi and I met and started playing in a band together, we rushed into a recording studio to make a demo with our two buddies, singer Jeff and bassist Dave. We rolled in around 10 am, and finished just over 24 hours later, if memory serves. We pulled an all-nighter and came away with three tunes. I felt a little disoriented in the big, fancy studio, and felt I had very little control over what was going on - but I was blown away by how much 'vibe' the recording had. Purely unintentional on my part, but vibe nonetheless.
Perhaps partly as a result of that experience and an awareness of the 'inabilities' approach to style, I haven't often deliberately tried to create a vibe beyond what the band naturally does. I'd believed the personality of the players goes a long way to creating an atmosphere (which is a big part of the reason I still love playing with Curtis after all these years), but...what if our next recording session took place in a boarded-up nightclub, a country community hall or an old school gym? Or at a live performance, for that matter. While I resist contrivance, I'm intrigued by the possibilities. I suppose the big question is, when does 'fostering' an atmosphere become 'contriving' one? I'd guess it has to do with the comfort of the performers - but discomfort can even have its place sometimes. Much to ponder. Any thoughts yourself?
In any case, I've attached one of the tunes from our all-nighter recording session in '97 - a tune that ended up being re-recorded and put on the Better the Devil You Know CD as the final track. It was fun to revisit after so many years. Jeff Starzenski voice, David Augustin bass and backing vox, Curtis on drums, and I'm contributing guitar and backing vox on a tune I wrote. A buddy of mine told me I was always too serious, so I set out to write the silliest song I could.
In a recent CBC interview with Emmylou Harris, she brought up the quote that 'style' was the product of inabilities. David Gilmour of Pink Floyd claims that he has 'slow fingers' and can't play fast - but nobody complains. His slow approach has produced very tuneful guitar parts with gorgeous tone. Jimi Hendrix's technique was hardly precise, but precision would probably have killed a lot of his musical character...and what if he could have sung like Otis Redding? Keep in mind, he'd been thrown out of his school choir because his teacher thought he was tone-deaf. Would Jimi have been such a committed guitarist if he'd been a strong singer?
Shortly after Curtis Leippi and I met and started playing in a band together, we rushed into a recording studio to make a demo with our two buddies, singer Jeff and bassist Dave. We rolled in around 10 am, and finished just over 24 hours later, if memory serves. We pulled an all-nighter and came away with three tunes. I felt a little disoriented in the big, fancy studio, and felt I had very little control over what was going on - but I was blown away by how much 'vibe' the recording had. Purely unintentional on my part, but vibe nonetheless.
Perhaps partly as a result of that experience and an awareness of the 'inabilities' approach to style, I haven't often deliberately tried to create a vibe beyond what the band naturally does. I'd believed the personality of the players goes a long way to creating an atmosphere (which is a big part of the reason I still love playing with Curtis after all these years), but...what if our next recording session took place in a boarded-up nightclub, a country community hall or an old school gym? Or at a live performance, for that matter. While I resist contrivance, I'm intrigued by the possibilities. I suppose the big question is, when does 'fostering' an atmosphere become 'contriving' one? I'd guess it has to do with the comfort of the performers - but discomfort can even have its place sometimes. Much to ponder. Any thoughts yourself?
In any case, I've attached one of the tunes from our all-nighter recording session in '97 - a tune that ended up being re-recorded and put on the Better the Devil You Know CD as the final track. It was fun to revisit after so many years. Jeff Starzenski voice, David Augustin bass and backing vox, Curtis on drums, and I'm contributing guitar and backing vox on a tune I wrote. A buddy of mine told me I was always too serious, so I set out to write the silliest song I could.