by Glyn Johns
• • •
Then it was off to Tulsa, Oklahoma, to finish the Georgie Fame album with Jamie Oldaker on drums and Carl Radle on bass. I had been a huge fan of Carl’s for years, so working with him was a thrill, and a massive learning experience for me. We finished up back in L.A. to mix and master it. While there I had a meeting with Chuck Kaye on the lot at A&M. He had recently been made head of A&R as well as running the company’s publishing company, Almo. I have always had a huge respect for Chuck. He epitomized the best of the music business at this point in time. He was a warm and friendly character with a wonderful sense of humor, great taste in music and in no way full of his own self-importance like so many of his counterparts. He was a good friend to me, offering some wonderful advice over the years, for which I shall always be grateful. So when he asked me to go and check out an artist on A&M with the view of me producing her, I was happy to oblige and flew with him to Washington, D.C., to see her play at the Cellar Door club.
I remember it was a very small stage with a very large band crammed onto it. The singer was painfully shy, barely lifting her head from her chest to look at the audience, and mumbling incoherently in between songs. The sound was not at all good and she was overpowered by the band. So, thanking Chuck for the opportunity, I said it was not for me and returned home to England the next day.
Chuck, feeling that I had not seen the artist in circumstances that did her justice, called Derek Green, whose idea it had been to get me to produce her in the first place. They both called to let me know that they felt I was making a mistake, persuading me to take another listen. I suggested that we meet up in Derek’s office in London, where she could play me a couple of songs on acoustic guitar, face-to-face, and thank God that I did, as the artist was Joan Armatrading.
I got it within the first few bars. By the time she had finished I could not believe how I could have misjudged the extraordinary talent that was sitting opposite me. Not only did she have the most wonderful voice, but the songs and her delivery of them were so original, and she was one of the best rhythm guitarists I have ever heard.
So once again, I very nearly missed out on one of the finest talents I have ever had the good fortune to work with, and it was only through the perseverance of others that I started work on the Joan Armatrading album three weeks later at Olympic Studios. I assembled the finest musicians I knew, knowing that they all would have to be pretty hot to keep up with her: Dave Markee on bass; Dave Mattacks, Kenney Jones, and Henry Spinetti on drums; Jerry Donahue, electric guitar; and at Derek’s recommendation, Tim Hinkley on piano. They all complemented Joan and her music with great skill. She was still painfully shy in the studio, finding it difficult to communicate with the musicians directly, addressing any comments she had through me to them. We cut her first hit in the UK, “Love and Affection,” on these sessions, with Brian Rogers picking up on Dave Markee’s melodic bass line and shadowing it with his string arrangement, and Joan brilliantly coming up with the idea to use the bass voice for the first line of the chorus on what was already a fabulous track. What a song and what a vocal performance.
This was yet another occasion when I felt like I was involved with something very special being introduced through someone else’s talent to a new music experience, coming to realize that not only did I relate to it but finding that I could contribute in some small way to the proceedings. The excitement this brings is completely consuming.
We had weekends off while we were making the album and I would spend them playing back what we had done, on my own or with anyone I could muster, being so excited by what we had achieved in the previous few days.
I became very protective of Joan, so when she appeared a few weeks later at Hammersmith Odeon in London and then at the Lincoln Center in New York to promote the record, I went along to take care of the sound in the auditorium just to make sure she would be represented in the best light possible after my experience of seeing her in Washington. All she needed in order for her extraordinary talent to be recognized was a really good band and a sound that did her justice.
Having worked with the bass player Bryan Garofalo and the drummer David Kemper in L.A. with Bernie Leadon, I recommended them to Joan the following year for her next album, Show Some Emotion, adding Georgie Fame and Rabbit on keyboards and keeping Jerry Donahue on guitar. This record includes my other favorite song of Joan’s, “Willow,” which has another sympathetic string arrangement by Brian Rogers and a remarkable vocal performance from Joan.
I have very fond memories of these first two albums that I made with Joan. They are up there with my favorites from all the records I have made.
Rough Mix and Slowhand, 1976–77
In the late summer of 1976, Ronnie Lane went to see Pete Townshend to ask for help, as he was in some financial difficulty. Pete suggested that the best way he could assist was for them to make an album together. They telephoned me from the meeting to put the idea to me and asked if I would be willing to get involved as an equal partner in the project. I had been really good friends and worked with both of them for years, so it was a no-brainer. My only condition was that, as the idea had been inspired by Ronnie’s need for money, they must both agree to take the project seriously and make the best album they could and not just do it for the cash. I was fascinated by the idea, as it was not an obvious musical pairing, and having been assured by both of them that they would treat it seriously, I agreed and we set about planning what was to become one of my favorite albums, and certainly one of the best that I ever made.
The idea was for there to be an equal split of material from each guy, with one supporting the other where possible. I remember quite clearly Pete coming to my house in Surrey, sitting on the couch, and playing me a song he had just written called “Street in the City.” He had a D’Angelico archtop acoustic guitar that had the most extraordinary sound, particularly when he played it. I sat there transformed, feeling privileged to be there for this one-to-one performance by one of the best songwriters of our generation. As the song unfolded, it came to me that the only way to cut it and to do it justice was with Pete on his own with a huge string section. As the last chord drifted away I excitedly put the idea to him and he suggested that he approach his father in-law Ted Astley to do the arrangement. Ted was a well-known composer, mostly for TV movies, his most famous work being the theme for the British series The Saint. The three of us got together to discuss the idea, and a more charming and gentle man you could not wish to meet. My only input was to suggest that we use a really large section, as I wanted it to sound like the strings from a symphony orchestra. So we agreed on sixty strings.
When it came to the session, I sat Pete right in the middle of the orchestra so that he could play while having the extraordinary physical and emotive experience that being surrounded by all those harmonics provides. I truly believe that he had the same effect on them as they did on him. This was one of the most thrilling sessions I ever produced. The arrangement that Ted did was quite superb, with both Pete and the orchestra rising to the occasion, quite literally, as all sixty of them rose to their feet to applaud both Ted and Pete as we finished the take that was to be the master.
The rest of the material was cut in a more conventional way with a rhythm section. Charlie Watts played on the opening track, “My Baby Gives It Away,” responding to the drive and fire of Pete’s guitar with equal energy. For the rest of the record, we were fortunate to have the extraordinary skills of Henry Spinetti on drums. Apart from his amazing feel and technical ability he gets the most wonderful sound out of his kit, and I can think of no occasion when he ever came close to letting me down. I got Dave Markee to come and play upright bass on a couple of tracks. Dave and Henry were my stalwart rhythm section in England for years. Stu and John Bundrick, or “Rabbit” as he is better known, provided the keyboards.
Pete had written an instrumental for guitar. He told me that he wanted Eric Clapton to come and play it for
the record. I thought this was a terrible idea as I felt that Pete should play his own instrumental; after all, it was his album. I had little time for Eric after the debacle of his concert and his not showing up at the studio to fix his performance. I thought that we could do without the negative energy that I associated with him at that time. Pete insisted and told me in no uncertain terms that there was no conversation. He was not going to play it and Eric was, as he had written it specifically for him.
I agreed, as it seemed that I had no option. I figured I could put up with the rather sour presence of Eric for an afternoon.
Well, I could not have been more wrong. We started the session at 2:30 p.m. Eric was on time and learned the piece really quickly and we had the track finished in no time. The whole experience being totally different than I had predicted. He was together and perfectly pleasant to work with.
A few days later he swung by the studio to see how we were doing. We had just finished a song called “April Fool.” Ronnie had done a wonderful vocal, Dave Markee had come in and put a bowed double bass on it, and all we had left to do was the solo. We all thought a Dobro would be a great sound to complement what we had done, and Eric offered to play it.
There are a few moments in my recording career that I treasure and this is one of them. I played him the track and I noticed that his foot was tapping as he ran through the song. I quickly put a mic on his foot and we recorded the next run-through. It was note-perfect and quite beautiful. Eric reacting in the most natural and emotive way to the song and Ronnie’s performance of it. Up until that moment I had paid very little attention to Eric as a musician and therefore never really understood what all the fuss was about. I thought he was just another bloody white kid playing the blues. That was very clearly my loss. In a matter of a few minutes I had been completely won over. This was a perfect example of what I have always thought since about Eric’s playing. He never allows his brain to get in the way between his heart and his fingers.
He continued to visit us most days until we finished, and on the last day of recording he asked me if I would consider producing his next record. I said yes immediately, having been converted by the experience of the previous few days.
I shall be eternally grateful to Pete for insisting on using Eric on the album. There is still an enormous portion of boot in my mouth as a result of my unbelievably blinkered, opinionated, and intolerant attitude.
So, by a huge chunk of luck, I found myself going to see Eric Clapton play at the Hammersmith Odeon in London. It was the last date of his tour. I got back to England just in time, as when I had finished with Pete and Ronnie a month earlier, I went to L.A. and made an album with Bernie Leadon. He had left the Eagles and, having bought Neil Young’s house in Topanga with a studio in the basement, had decided to make a record with his pal Michael Georgiades. It was a challenging environment to work in as the space was pretty tight, but we had a great time and made a very laid-back record.
Eric had asked me to the concert at Hammersmith to see if I agreed with the idea of using his current band for the record. The band turned out to be the perfect complement to where Eric was at musically at that time. I knew Dick Sims and Carl Radle, they were from Tulsa and had been introduced to me by Leon Russell. Add Jamie Oldaker to the mix, and a better rhythm section you could not wish for. The rest I did not know and the only member I did not think was necessary was the rather eccentric percussionist, who I am sure was really in the band for visual effect, as he seemed to contribute far more to the eye than to the ear by hurling himself round the stage like someone possessed.
• • •
The first session for Slowhand was on May 2nd at two-thirty p.m. By five p.m., we had our first track finished, and what a track it was. “Wonderful Tonight,” this being the second song I had recorded that had been written for the gorgeous Pattie Boyd. I remember going home that night an extremely happy man. It was like falling off a log working with this lot. The rest of the record went as smoothly, with everyone seeming to enjoy the experience. Because they had been on the road for a few weeks, Eric and the band were in great form. There was a camaraderie between them socially as well as musically, Eric’s sense of humor leading the way.
Eric was quite lazy in those days, and it was quite difficult to motivate him to work. However, once you had virtually dragged him into the studio, sat him down and thrust a guitar into his hands and told him to get on with it and play, all the aggravation dissipated. With his skill and the quality of the other musicians in the band, nothing took very long to cut. I would always record the first run-through, as something exceptional was bound to happen that would not be repeated in later takes.
I had a bit of a reputation as a disciplinarian and was quite strict about timekeeping. Much to our amusement, one evening Eric showed up at the studio with a note from Pattie, informing me that it was her fault and not Eric’s that he was late. Just as a mother might write to her child’s teacher.
Eric and I both being huge JJ Cale fans had a great time cutting “Cocaine.” That led to the penning of “Lay Down Sally” by Marcy Levy, Eric, and George Terry, the rhythm guitar player in the band. This is of course a complete JJ Cale rip-off. Although these two tracks were very successful hit singles and I love them both, one of my favorites on the album is the John Martyn song “May You Never.” I think it is the ease with which Eric sings it that I like so much, and the simplicity of the melody. His voice has become much stronger over the years since then, along with the fact that he had his broken nose fixed, which eliminated the slight nasal whine that was always present back in the days that I worked with him.
We were close to finishing the album when one evening we were visited by Lonnie Donegan, the man who started it all for so many of us. He sat in the control room with me for the rest of the session and as we were preparing to leave for home he asked if I would produce his next album. I am quite sure that he had no idea that I was the humble tape op on his sessions all those years ago at IBC and that he had the most extraordinary influence on my musical taste in my early teens. Although he was probably not in the least bit surprised when I told him, as so many of my contemporaries had done before. It was an amazing moment for me. It was as if I had gone the complete circle. Unfortunately I was unable to take him up on his request as I was already committed to another project during the time he had scheduled.
• • •
There are only nine tracks on the record. The reason being there were no more to be had. No one seemed to mind at the time, although I have always believed in using eleven or twelve. It is only fair to the punter who has forked out his or her hard-earned cash. Today this does not apply, as very few people listen to an album as a piece of work anymore. It is all about individual tracks being downloaded, and the label always wants to put on bonus tracks, without any thought to the flow of the album.
As a result of us working together on Slowhand, Eric and I became really good pals. We lived quite close to each other on the Surrey-Sussex border, and as my brother Andy had been married to one of Pattie’s sisters, we even had a vague family connection. The friendship and the working relationship was to last for some years, until Eric made the decision to go straight and he stopped any contact with the large group of the friends that he’d associated with in his past to enable him to deal with the immense effort that it must have taken to become sober. He did not single me out and I never took it personally. I was selfishly disappointed, in that it seemed that I had lost a great friend, having been thrown out with the bathwater, so to speak. As time goes by I do hope we will reconnect, as I really miss him as a pal.
White Mansions and The Legend of Jesse James, 1978–79
One morning, I received in the mail a beautifully presented folder of lyrics and demos with a handwritten letter of introduction from an Englishman named Paul Kennerley. It was a project that he had written about the American Civil War. He had researched the war and written a col
lection of songs with lyrics full of accurate historical detail from the point of view of the South. I was most impressed, and at the first opportunity, arranged a meeting where I suggested that he develop the project by establishing different characters to tell the story. I thought it was an exceptional piece of work and was fascinated by the challenge of doing a concept album based on historical fact, although the characters he created to tell the story were fictitious. It turned out to be a surprisingly emotive subject.
Paul had been educated in the best schools in the land. As a result, he spoke with a perfect English accent, cutting quite a dash, being very tall and always immaculately dressed in his stiff collar and tie and Savile Row suits. However, he was obsessed with the American South, loved the Stones and country music, and when he sang, it was with the most exaggerated southern drawl, which to say the least, was somewhat disconcerting.
I took the idea to Derek Green. He was as impressed with Paul’s work as I was and immediately signed him to a record and publishing deal. Once this had been agreed, we set about deciding who we could get to play and to sing the different roles that Paul had created. Jerry Moss, the M of A&M records, had a long-standing relationship with Waylon Jennings, so he managed to persuade him and his wife, Jessi Colter, to play the narrator and female lead, respectively. This was a massive coup for us, as they both added great credibility to the project.
I have always loved the “chemistry” part of my job, mixing up musicians who have not played together before, particularly Americans and British. So, having invited John Dillon and Steve Cash from The Ozark Mountain Daredevils to come and play and sing two of the roles, I put together my standby rhythm section of the day, Dave Markee on bass and Henry Spinetti on drums, adding Eric Clapton and Bernie Leadon to play guitars and Tim Hinkley for keyboards. We assembled in London, to make the record at Olympic Studios.
