No Beethoven: An Autobiography & Chronicle of Weather Report

by Peter Erskine

  3. New Vintage (Maynard Ferguson, 1977) — I invited a woman to New York to attend some of the tracking sessions for this album. The two of us were seated on the floor in the drum isolation booth during someone’s overdub, and she flashed her boobs at me in the studio. This is one of my fondest memories of Mediasound in New York. The other was nailing Maynard’s remake of “Maria” in one take, unheard of for us as we had so little recording experience. Guitarist Steve Khan was a tremendous help during these sessions and we became life-long friends as a result of our working together on this album. Despite the presence of “Airegin” (recorded at Columbia’s 30th Street Studio), the album received pretty bad reviews. I guess people didn’t appreciate the disco arrangement of the theme from Star Wars.

  4. Raise! (Earth, Wind & Fire, 1980) — Jaco and I go to The Complex studio in West L.A. to visit with Weather Report management, and we run into Maurice White, who invites us to the EW&F session taking place in another part of the building. Then he asks us to join the band for a handclap overdub on the tune “You’re a Winner.” You can hear Jaco yell near the end of the handclaps/breakdown section of the tune. I think you can hear me clapping ahead of the beat on about half of the handclaps. But Jaco and I had fun. Meanwhile, Zawinul always regarded Maurice White as one of the most talented and clever musicians he knew. The other pop musician (and band) who caught Joe’s eye and ear? Peter Gabriel.

  5. Word of Mouth (Jaco Pastorius, 1980) — So many stories about this one. Jaco stayed at my rented house in Silver Lake, an intended stay of a week or two that became several months. The burden of genius coupled with an excess of budget and expectation. The music is Jaco, but he was very much not himself as I had known him up to that point. It seemed like he had begun to fight everything that was being made available to help him. Jaco brought Michael Gibbs to L.A. in order to conduct the orchestra for the overdubs, but then refused to allow Mike into the studio that day. It took three different string sections to finally get one that could play Jaco’s music in the right spirit as well as in tune. Jaco’s proudest moment of the entire process, as far as I witnessed, would have to have been when Burt Bacharach was brought to one of the mixing rooms at A&M Studios where Jaco was working on something, and Jaco played “Three Views of a Secret” for Burt. Jaco could not stop looking over at the rest of us, beaming and smiling from ear-to-ear as Burt listened and nodded approvingly. The album’s birthing process wore the people at Warner Brothers out, and they failed to realize what a masterpiece they had on their hands, if you ask me.

  6. Weather Report (Weather Report, 1981) — The final album that Jaco, Bobby Thomas, Jr., and I played on together, the final day’s session was an extended jam that resulted in the two tunes “Dara Factor 1” and “Dara Factor 2.” An extra-large reel of two-inch tape is prepared for us to jam and record onto, and an expectant crowd gathers in the studio lounge at Power Station with speakers being run into the lounge for the benefit of techs, assistants, and visitors to listen to. It was an event, a coup d’grace of the album; no tunes now, just a fabled WR improvised jam. I’m not even sure if the tunes are that good, but I believe that we all felt we had to create something out of the jam to justify its existence. With some clever editing and mixing, we wind up with a pretty cool couple of tunes in any event. Like many “free” tunes on albums, this process reveals that such tunes don’t always begin or end like the listener might think they do.

  Before I played the drum intro that starts one of the jam tunes (a groove that Christian McBride never fails to sing to me whenever we work together), I was attempting to convince Joe that a less-convoluted and less-original drum beat might be more “fun” for us to work with as a starting point, and Joe said, “Okay, let me hear it.” So I played a real straight up-and-down simple beat — it must not have been very funky, to be honest — and Joe demands, “What’s so fun about that? I don't hear nuthin’ fun in that. Forget it!” Ladies and gentlemen: “Dara Factors 1 and 2.” At least Joe shared the writing credits for the composition with the other improvising musicians. When we recorded “Brown Street” in his living room a couple of years prior — a tune that came to being because I started playing the “Brown Street” beat (which got its inspiration from a Dom Um Romao drumbeat; there’s that circle again), and we jam and it winds up on 8:30 — I ask Joe about sharing some small portion of a composing credit. He retorts, “Oh yeah? Sing me one melody you wrote on that. Sing me one. Can’t? You’re not getting any composing credit.” Okay: the earlier story in this section can reside in the Genius category, but this last story could be filed under “N” for Not Nice.

  7. Steps Ahead (Steps Ahead, 1983) — Don Grolnick’s “Pools” is the star of this album and proved to be the band’s enduring opener. It was the perfect tune for that band and a wonderful vehicle for all of the soloists. Even though Don had left by the time we made the Steps Ahead album, the man’s whimsy permeates the group sound and Eliane Elias does a wonderful job — at such a tender age — of making the piano chair her own. Eddie Gomez and I loved playing the baião with her, and Mike Mainieri’s “Islands” is the result; Mainieri is a genius at the art of the catchy tune. Mike Brecker’s “Both Sides of the Coin” was a result of his composition studies at the time, and my song “Northern Cross” is a typical drummer’s tune — key of C, no chord changes, just open blowing for the band!

  8. Hearts and Numbers (Don Grolnick, 1984) — One of the great albums of all time.

  9. Na Pali Coast (Peter Sprague, 1985) — I was flown from New York to Los Angeles to work on this album — against Concord Records founder Carl Jefferson’s wishes, I found out. While setting up the borrowed drumset (in Chick Corea’s Mad Hatter Studios), I met Carl and shook his hand, thanking him for all of the great music he had produced, being polite as well as political, and he replied, “Well, you know… I’ve heard some of your music, and I can’t say that I’ve enjoyed that much of it.” To which I could only reply, “Hmm…well…some eighth notes are straighter than others, I suppose….” Which wasn’t much of a reply, but I guess it beat some of the things I could have said. Peter Sprague is a wonderful guitarist and musical soul. I always find his music refreshing.

  10. Short Stories (Bob Berg, 1987) — The scene of another Erskine compositional crime, this time by penning a tune with a melody that sounds suspiciously like the country hit “Behind Closed Doors.” While Bob was overdubbing the head to replace the melody once we heard indeed how similar it was, he protested to producer Don Grolnick, “Yeah, but I like the other melody better!” to which Don replied, “You like the other melody better, I like the other melody better, and Charlie Rich’s lawyers unbelievably like the other melody better. Please play the new melody. Thank you.” Bob Berg is another musical giant who we lost way too soon (April 7, 1951 – December 5, 2002).

  11. John Patitucci (1987) — Eponymous album featuring John on electric and acoustic basses in various rhythm-section settings. I was very fortunate to be included on the cut with Chick Corea on piano and Mike Brecker (overdubbed later in New York) on tenor. We cut this at Chick’s Mad Hatter Studios; I’m playing on Peter Donald’s Yamaha drumset as I had just moved to L.A. and didn't have a bebop kit handy yet. Longtime Chick engineer Bernie Kirsch got a great sound on this tune as well as the entire album. To be honest, I’ve really only paid attention to that one tune. Surprising how many people have heard it and still comment on it. Hip song (“Searching, Finding”). Patitucci can play anything; he’s really an incredible musician. John, you are the Sal Mineo of the bass. Tag, you’re it.

  12. Second Sight (Marc Johnson’s Bass Desires, 1987) — Marc was my musical brother for many a tour, many a mile, and quite a few years. We worked at the music we played, and I think we proved to be a good yin to each other’s yang. Remarkable bassist and musical force, Marc created the Bass Desires band because he heard that sound in his head — two guitars, bass and drums — and John Scofield and Bill Frisell are brilliant in their roles. This is some of the most fun I ever
had playing. The ECM sound works perfectly, and this was also some of the most jazzed I ever saw Manfred get during a project. Heavy band.

  13. John Abercrombie, Marc Johnson, Peter Erskine (1988) — The trio of John, Marc, and myself recorded an entire tour’s worth of concerts on my grey-market DAT machine, which I purchased pretty much ahead of the curve (originally for the purpose of using in the Westwood Theatre production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream). Longtime Maynard FOH engineer Tony Romano, who also worked with Steps Ahead and then Michael Brecker and Diana Krall, made this live recording in Boston on April 21, 1988.

  When I returned to my hotel room after that long day (two shows), I was surprised to find my room door locked with a chain from the inside. Voice inside: “What do you want?” “I want to get inside my room.” “Well this is my room now.” The hotel had packed up my bags, set them behind the front desk, and checked someone else into my room while I was at the club, and of course they were now sold out for the night and it’s after 2:00 in the morning by the time I stumble upon the mess. I never found out why the hotel did this, but when I think of this great album, that’s what I remember.

  I also remember how beautiful John and Marc sound on “Haunted Heart.” Manfred and longtime ECM engineer Jan Erik Kongshaug added reverb to the live mix and did some mastering EQ, but you can get a very good idea of how that trio sounded in concert. Nice band! By the way: I’ve consistently had bad luck with hotels in Boston: thefts, noisy rooms next door (I’m talking tailgate party, a dozen people in the room with beer kegs noisy) and being unceremoniously checked out without provocation or cause. Nice city, otherwise.

  14. Don’t Try This At Home (Michael Brecker, 1988) — I play on one tune, Don Grolnick’s brilliant “Talking to Myself.” This was a result of a trade: I agreed to play on Mike’s new Impulse album as well as provide studio time from my Denon album project Motion Poet if he would play on one tune of my album (Vince Mendoza’s “Hero With a Thousand Faces”). I always considered that I got the better end of the bargain, for Mike’s playing on Motion Poet is nothing short of astounding. As I recall, Don’s tune was a first take, as was Brecker’s solo on my album. Bing! Bam! Boom! We liked to work quick.

  15. Motion Poet (Peter Erskine, 1988) — For all of the recordings I’ve done under my own name, this one remains a favorite. The band is stellar, Vince Mendoza’s writing is top-notch, the sound by James Farber is pristine yet soulful, and Don Grolnick’s production was as much fun as it was focused and helpful. One of the French horn players stopped me in the hallway of the studio during the brass overdub tracking day and told me, “This is noble, what you’re doing; this is very noble.” Not sure if he meant the sound, the writing, the concept, or merely the fact that I was using my budget to employ so many musicians. But the results are indeed noble thanks to the incredible playing by all involved. Vince’s arrangement of Weather Report’s “Dream Clock” pays honor to fallen comrade Jaco Pastorius by doing a tuba flyover at the end with the bass being absent in the flight formation. As I recount earlier in this book, Zawinul’s only stated reaction to me when I proudly played this for him at his home: “It’s too slow. Come on, let’s have a drink!” I like the French horn player’s take on the album more, so, THANK YOU Jerry Peel.

  16. Reunion (Gary Burton/Pat Metheny, 1989) — Any time I find myself making music with Gary Burton, I have to stop and pinch myself to remind me that this is real and, yes, I am playing with the greatest vibraphonist ever. It might just be a percussionist thing, but Gary is beyond legendary. Always great when combined with Pat Metheny, the Reunion album proved to be an excellent combination all the way around; I was proud to have brought Will Lee into the mix, for purely selfish reasons, if nothing else because Will always makes me sound better, plus he’s so much fun to work with. When we toured this album (Marc Johnson on bass instead of Will), Gary came out of the closet and told us he was gay during our first group dinner together after the first day’s rehearsal. It got real quiet all of a sudden and no one said anything. I broke the silence with a “Far out.” I probably then asked someone to pass the ketchup.

  17. Flying Cowboys (Rickie Lee Jones, 1989) — This was the first time I got to work with Walter Becker. He’s a terrific producer as well as Steely Dan-ist. Rickie Lee and I hit it off really well, in part because she knew that I was a friend of one of her former back-up singers who had told her nice things about me (i.e., I wasn’t a creep, I guess). This album, along with my Big Theatre compilation, is one of the rare places where you can find Vince Mendoza playing trumpet. I tracked one of the tunes on a Yamaha electronic drumset. Walter wound up calling me for some more album work — until I told him I would be leaving a session at the scheduled end-of-day so I could go listen to the Korngold Violin Concerto being performed in concert with the L.A. Phil. He seemed stunned by my plans. First things first. I thought that would be it for our work relationship, but he surprised me by calling me for the Steely Dan tour in 1993. I would work again with Rickie Lee on her 2000 album It’s Like This.

  18. Start Here (Vince Mendoza, 1989) — The opener for this album, “Babe of the Day,” has become legendary for its complicated rhythmic structure and bravura performance by the band. Friend Jack Fletcher came up with the title of the album. During a break after the recording of the hauntingly beautiful “Her Corner,” I found a weeping Jerry Peel standing outside the studio — not copiously weeping, but gently so — and when I asked him if he was okay, he replied, “This is why I became a musician.” Vince is one of those 100-percent pure musicians whose loyalty to music always brings things back into proper artistic perspective. Listening to it as I type this: GODDAMN! It’s good. Special mention to Laurence Feldman, Fred Sherry, and Bob Mintzer. And Gary Peacock, Marc Copland, Will Lee, Ralph Towner, John Scofield and ensemble. My book The Drum Perspective (Hal Leonard) has the original “Babe of the Day” track on the included CD, and another version of the tune can be found on the recently released Caribbean Night album of the WDR Big Band with Andy Narell, Luis Conte, Michel Alibo, and myself.

  19. Music for Large & Small Ensembles (Kenny Wheeler, 1990) — Any album with Dave Holland on it is going to be good. Add John Taylor and John Abercrombie to the rhythm section, along with Kenny Wheeler’s playing and writing, Norma Winstone’s voice, and the best big band in the United Kingdom, plus Jan Erik Kongshaug engineering with Manfred producing = wow. We recorded the big band tracks in London’s CTS studios, where many of the James Bond film soundtracks were recorded. Kenny’s writing is out of this world. The double album also contains some small group tracks culled from the Widow in the Window album sessions in Oslo.

  20. Sweet Soul (Peter Erskine, 1990) — Sweet Soul was done in two days’ time, with a short rehearsal the afternoon before. The first tune to be recorded was “Touch Her Soft Lips and Part,” a William Walton composition written as part of the soundtrack for Laurence Olivier’s Henry V film. It’s a gorgeously tender tune, and Joe Lovano, with the splendid accompaniment of Kenny Werner and Marc Johnson, rendered the loveliest performance of it imaginable. What a way to start an album! We listened to the playback, and I offered to the band, “Well, it’s beautiful, and we got it. Does anyone want to play it again just for fun?” Engineer James Farber, who was tracking the album direct-to-stereo, mentioned that he’d like another pass at the song now that he was getting the sound better dialed in, and so everyone agreeably agreed.

  Now, this is not a decision I take lightly, as I see the arc of a session as a vital part of the entire creative process and end result. In other words, I believe in capturing the musicians’ energies and their creative sparks as they arc upwards, not on the way down after something is played too often or to death. Walter Becker and I stand at odds on this philosophy, by the way. He sells more records than I do, too. But I stand by my way.

  In any event, it was with great dismay that we heard one of the Japanese executive producers say, “Okay, Joe, but this time, please try to play more lyrical.” My mental image:
children’s birthday party going perfectly well, then a hand grenade is tossed into the middle of it. The look on Lovano’s face propelled me into emergency mode: I grabbed him as quick as I could and pulled him outside of the control room. “Jesus, Joe! I am so sorry for what he just said. Are you okay? Need a minute? Talk to me, Joe…” Joe avowed he was cool, although years later he confessed to me that he almost walked out of the session altogether after that heedless and needless comment. The poor Japanese producer had no idea how badly he had just insulted Joe Lovano, who had just played one of the most lyrical solos extant, EVER. And so, once I got the band back into the studio, I went into the control room and told this guy: “LISTEN, if you want to run the stopwatch and keep track of song timings, then that’s good, and if you want to order lunch and let us know when the food gets here, then that would be very helpful, too, but DO NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD TO ANY OF MY MUSICIANS!”

  He remained quiet after that, and we finished the album in good time.

  Meanwhile, my favorite memory of that album is watching Kenny Werner do the one overdub on the album, adding a “string pad” to Vince’s “Ambivalence.” We’re going DAT-to-DAT with no room for error or fixing; Kenny is playing a synth in a remote booth, unaware that I’m watching him play; he conducts himself as he improvises his chordal arrangement. He’s in ecstasy, and so are we.

  21. Free Play (Eddie Del Barrio, 1991) — A brilliant musical experiment, a horrible experience when a “talk back” microphone’s channel is left on, “hot” in my headphones as well as in the control room. After successfully recording the first movement of this Prokofiev-meets-jazz piano concerto (first take, prompting a one-man standing ovation from album producer Herb Alpert), I am asked to begin the third movement with a loud cymbal crash. The cymbal, of course, is situated next to the talk mic; the count-off click starts in my headphones, I follow the count and hit the cymbal, and OH MY GOD! A rush of pain and nausea overwhelms me as I throw off the headset and try to imagine what to do next. Which is more powerful, the sudden pain or the mounting anger? When I finally look up and into the booth where the errant engineer must be sitting, I realize that everyone in that enclosed space got it nearly as bad as me through the loudspeakers. Needless to say, this stopped the session cold for an hour or so. Despite the accident (which resulted in further hearing loss and exacerbation of my tinnitus), the project was a laudable one. Herb Alpert is truly committed to art, and I respect the man for that. His wife, Lani Hall, has been one of my favorite singers ever since I was a kid listening to Sergio Mendes & Brazil ’66.