Junior Wells, Brian Kramer & the Bluesmasters Experiences of a first-time producer

Learning to be a record producer is not something you pick up from a text book; it’s all about diving in the deep end. Miles Roston has engineered and produced numerous recordings over the last two decades, but here he recalls his ‘first time’.

y first record as a James (that beautiful ghostly Photo: Ray Flerlage producer was with voice) and Mississippi John Hurt. MChicago blues legend, So this was an ideal first record vocalist and harmonica player, for me. And Junior had agreed, Junior Wells. For those of you in principle, to his first recording who’ve never heard of him, in 13 years. Now all we had to do Junior is one of Chicago’s most was get the deal done. famous sons of the blues. Born Which wasn’t that simple. in Arkansas, Junior was singing It never is. But that’s the great and playing the harmonica on thing about human beings: our the streets of West Memphis by ability to forget pain. No film the age of nine. At age 12, he was or record goes easily or simply. caught stealing a $2 harmonica Yet after I finish each one and from a pawn shop and went to say never again, someone calls court, but after the judge heard me up or I get an idea, and it’s the boy play a few notes, he paid off to the races for more punish- for the instrument out of his ment. So I called Junior Wells’ own pocket. By the time I met manager, Marty Salzman, and him back in 1989, Junior was after several heartbreaks where a dead-set legend of the blues it felt like it would never happen, harmonica, an icon. one day we all agreed: we had a I’d been producing demos Junior Wells was notorious for his powerful harmonica playing record to make. And what record for various artists in New and gritty vocal style. He first recorded with The Aces in 1953. was that? Brian, Junior and I York, when a record label rang all agreed we wanted to make a and told me they’d found this seriously devoted blues guitarist classic record, not just of the times. At the time, named Brian Kramer, who played anywhere from clubs to the was the dominant blues label in the US, trying to make the older streets, and who wanted to make a collaborative album with blues artists appeal to modern audiences. Their mixes were very Junior Wells. The record was to be an indie tribute to the elder consistent, with a heavily compressed and reverberant ’80s snare statesman and major influence on rock ‘n’ roll, by Brian (just 24 sound. But even though we were living in the ’80s (albeit the tail years old) and some of the best musicians in NYC. There I was end of them), we didn’t want to make a record that would date. in the middle of it, myself only 25, wondering how I’d make it We wanted to capture the joy of the musicians playing together through the recording sessions without someone calling my bluff juxtaposed against the deep sorrows and grooves of the blues. I and asking, “Miles, what the hell are you doing here?” wanted a sound I could be proud of 30 years later. I wasn’t a blues artist, but I’d grown up listening and playing Though I was learning on the job, I did know that, blues guitar to the obvious – Robert Johnson, , and Muddy legends or not, what we needed were great tunes and arrange- Waters (with whom Junior played) – and the not so obvious: Skip ments. Junior sent us a few songs he wanted to do, tunes like

AT|46 Pleading the Blues and What Mama Told Me. Brian and I started wouldn’t be part of the original house band. working on his own original tunes. We co-wrote one, and I con- tributed one other original. We also worked out a pace on the The Recording Sessions overall record, as one would a live set. So that sitting down and I knew a great old studio named Baby Monster, on Bleecker listening to the LP would feel like a perfect evening. Street, and the idea was Junior would come to New York, and

The Bluesmasters from left to right: Dan Hickey, Brian Kramer, Miles and Junior went ‘head to head’ in the studio, but getting Junior Wells, David Cohen, David Santos and studio engineer, Gil tough was all in the name of ‘getting at that sweet and tender soul Abarbanel (seated). down deep.’

Guitar Prep we’d record and mix it there with the best the city had to offer. Another part of production prep was working on Brian’s guitar The studio had an old MCI desk, a nice 24-track Studer, but most picking. All of us think we’re ready the moment we have a importantly a nice sloppy live room, where we could put the chance to record, especially when we’re young. I did; I still do. house band, and an Iso booth for Junior. But Brian had been playing a lot on the streets and in clubs, As we had a limited amount of time with Junior, and we also so he’d learned to focus on playing louder and less on finesse. wanted him to be at his best on every song, we tracked some of On the sidewalk with traffic noise, that can pass with flying Brian’s original tunes beforehand, for Junior to play on later. And colours… even live in a bar, but not on a record. I wanted to it was a good way to ease into the record; for Brian, understand- invest as much of our limited budget as we could on recording ably nervous, and myself, also understandably nervous. one inspirational take after the other, not just capturing something technically passable. To Brian’s credit, he dedicated Session One himself to honing his technique for recording. Everybody gathered in the main live room, except Brian, who was in the Iso booth: David Cohen at his piano, David Santos The Band doing his tuning and Howie Wyeth working on the drum kit. And In terms of musicians for the band, Brian had played around then we got a taste of what the rest of the recording process was town and had gotten to know quite a few; I did too. The house going to be like. band was sensational: Howie Wyeth (Bob Dylan’s drummer and As we got drum sounds on Howie, with his trademark tweed a great ragtime piano player), Dan Hickey also on drums (later cap on, we got past the kick, snare, hi-hat, then moved onto the with They Might Be Giants), David Santos, an up-and-coming toms. Howie wouldn’t hit them. “Can we please hear the toms, bassist (later playing with Elton John and John Fogerty), David Howie?” Again, reluctance. Finally I went in. Yes, I was a rookie Cohen on piano (Country Joe and the Fish), and of course Brian producer, but what was the problem? The answer was simple on guitar. Steve Jordan (Keith Richards/David Letterman Band) from Howie’s point of view: “You can get sounds on the toms, but ended up contributing drums too, and for a few tracks we got the I won’t play them.” Good lesson; don’t bother miking instruments Uptown Horns (Tom Waits). no-one’s going to use! We cut four tracks that night. And Howie, Our Holy Grail though was to get the great blues guitarist, without touching the toms, did a brilliant solo on Brian’s two-step Mick Taylor (formerly of ). Mick would make number – 32-20. the intergenerational feel of this record perfect; and there Then the Master finally arrived. A nervous Brian and I met was no harm in trying. One of the house band members had a very tired Junior Wells in from the airport and drove him a contact with Mick’s lawyer, as I remember it. I put in call to his hotel. Being a producer (for the first time) felt a bit like after call, telling the lawyer we would love him to play, even hosting a party, and I wanted the party to go well. Junior was on one track. I didn’t have big bucks to pay, but it was a tribute in his mid-60s now, had done 40 years of the “Chitlin” circuit [a to Junior. Over and over, the lawyer told us Mick was busy or string of music venues in the southern United States that sold out of town, and that he’d get back to us. Every week or two chitlins (a traditional cheap spicy pork dish) and other soul food I’d try again, with the same response. So no matter what, Mick dishes. In the late ’50s and early ’60s these tours were crucial to

47|AT black artists like B.B. King, honey. Junior wasn’t always happy doing a re-take, Solomon Burke and James and neither were the other players. I went head to head Brown], all the blues bars, with him several times, and didn’t back down. And normally touring in a van. when I say head to head with a Chicago bluesmaster, I As far as I was concerned, mean head to head. Junior deserved luxury; On one track, What Mama Told Me, I wanted the big budget record or not. intro absolutely spotless, to punch through. The song So I’d booked him into involved Junior on the harmonica doing a ‘call and the legendary Algonquin, response’ thing with the band. We tried it over and a famed literati hotel. And over, to the point where Junior was furious. But when looking around at the we finally got the take I was satisfied with, and played elegant trappings, he did it back in the control room, Junior broke into a huge appreciate it. He wanted a grin and punched me lightly in the arm. And it set the nap straight away, but we’d precedent. We could argue like cat and dog, but we’d meet up later. make it through. And, by the way, the rest of the record I picked him up for was like cat and dog. session one. He was ready One other incident was when Junior was soloing over except for one thing: he one of Brian’s tunes. On his own vocal tracks, whatever needed to find a nice shoe the tune, Junior would lay down great raspy take after store. “Sure,” I told him, raspy take. But on this particular song Junior was “tomorrow.” But he was overtired and didn’t really have it. I wanted to call the adamant. Luckily there session and come back the next day; he insisted we go was one not far from the on, but he was way off his best and I knew it. Over and studio, and once in the over, he’d lay down a tired and badly executed solo. It store, Junior headed for the was very human of him, but he wouldn’t let it go. (Now, ladies department. Seeing by the way, I would normally under those circumstances that I was more than a little just call the session and start the next day – it’s amazing perplexed, he explained what sleep does for playing skills and the ears.) Junior on the mic, with that wherever he went his trusty harmonica at the ready. – first things first – he “When Junior finally arrived at the studio bought his mother a pair of shoes. He it was to a hero’s welcome.” picked out a red pair, and we were on our way. When we finally climbed the two flights of stairs to The one thing I’d learned was that confrontation the studio, it was a hero’s welcome for Junior from the made him rise to the challenge, so I decided to take it players and our engineer Gil Abarbanel, and Junior up a notch. I could play a modicum of harmonica, so loved the adulation. Then we went to work. The I got out of the control room, went into the Iso booth drummer on the next two nights’ sessions was Dan with Junior and asked him for his harp. He looked Hickey. He used toms on his solos almost exclusively. at me as if I was crazy. I insisted. He handed me the (Later, Steve Jordan came in and returned to the harmonica and with it I did something unbelievably snare-only routine!) David’s bass went through a DI arrogant. I asked Gil to roll tape and record. The track box and my favourite old Pultec EPQ-1A EQs to give started, and I started to play, with Junior staring at me it a bit of oomph and juice. We used two old RCA 77 as if I’d lost my mind! I don’t think I sounded particu- ribbon mics on David Cohen’s piano, and Brian’s blonde larly good, but it was about a minute before Junior, in a Stratocaster went through an old beat-up Ampeg amp. fury, grabbed his harmonica back from me. Gil (to his I don’t know why beat-up old tube amps sound just that credit and playing along) got on the talkback and said, extra bit more beautiful, but they do. Junior was in the “Great, Junior. Much better.” Junior just gave me a look. Iso booth, and on his vocal and harmonica, we used a I left the Iso booth, we rolled tape, and he played bril- special old AKG C12. liantly. We had a good laugh afterwards and a few days later, Junior went home, with the red shoes. Baptism of Fire The rest of the record was also to be an inspiration: That evening I became renown for a saying that has the Uptown Horns came in and did beautiful work; we since stuck with me, that was tacked by the band to kept the arrangements simple and strong. Brian’s guitar the studio door. “That was great. Can we do it again?” playing got stronger, cleaner and more passionate. His Yes, I was working with more seasoned musicians, vocals had a warm sweetness that got better and better but I had a responsibility to deliver the best record we – more true to himself. Brian was a Brooklyn-born could. Great as they were, they were always capable musician with a lot of talent and his own soul, but we all of greater: that I knew. And it wasn’t all milk and learn certain vocal or instrumental ticks, bits of phrases

AT|48 Rather than being pissed off at this immature 25 year old, Mick did just get better and better (brilliant to start with). Later, we ended up co-writing a few songs and playing together. To me, Mick had the sweetest sounding guitar, and voice. He was also a great writer, and I wish he’d become the household name that Eric Clapton ended up becoming. 1 2 At the time, the producer/engineer was an anomaly. Producers and engineers were two people with different roles. This gave the producer the luxury of listening to takes with full attention, beyond focusing on the arrangements etc. The engineer could focus on miking techniques and the EQ and the quality of the sound. This helped in working with someone like Mick Taylor, giving him full 3 4 attention and being able to choose which was the take. We had 24 tracks on two- Inside Baby Monster Studios: 1. Brian Kramer on the Strat. 2. David Cohen at the piano. inch tape. That meant we had to make 3. Mick Taylor looks for an ashtray. 4. Junior Wells roars the house down. decisions then and there, which I still don’t think is a bad thing. Then the mix and phrasings, from our idols. Again, live in a bar, one becomes that – a mix, not a time for choosing can get away with it. In fact, audiences encourage it; the between umpteen takes. average crowd likes the familiar. But on record, it’s my The aftermath of production was disappointing. job to get the artist to the most intimate level one can Inexperienced but not dedicated, the label did a lack- be – “tick-free”, purely oneself. lustre job of promotion. They counted on Junior Wells’ fans hearing of it through the grapevine. But we got Meanwhile Back on the Mick Taylor front… good reviews, and I still play the record and still think As the producer of this album, and with the recording it sounds damn good. It doesn’t have that ’80s sheen. It all but complete, I was still determined (naively or sounds like it could have been recorded yesterday. And otherwise) to get Mick in on at least one session, but that’s the point. over and over, his lawyer kept pushing us off. I don’t Junior Wells has since passed away. He was a legend remember how, but someone among the musicians got in myth, a legend in life, and I’m sure is kicking up a fuss wherever he is now. Mick Taylor, still touring, has never really broken the barrier to mainstream “That was great, Mick (and it was). success. The Uptown Horns continued to play; Chris But can we do it again?” Botti on trumpet, their youngest member, became quite renowned in his own right after playing with Paul us Mick’s home number. Stammering, I called him up Simon. Brian moved to Sweden, where he is carving and told him we were trying to honour Junior Wells out a reputable career as a blues musician; and has in and the blues with our younger artist Brian. I apolo- fact just released a new record. gised for calling him at home, but said we’d been trying But Junior taught me what it was to be a producer to get him through his lawyer for weeks. And now we and a musician. How to get tough, while at the same were literally out of time. He interrupted and said he’d time getting at that sweet and tender soul down deep. love to come. When was a good time? He said his And that was the right role of toughness, to protect lawyer had not even told him about the record. the sweet and tender underneath. No matter whether When the other musicians heard Mick Taylor was you’re 25 or in your 60s. going to be coming in, they insisted on being there. Brian Kramer visited New York last year, and we Mick arrived with his trademark Les Paul; we plugged played a few songs together at some dive on the him in (sorry, I don’t remember which amp) and sat Bowery: as it should be. Some of the songs we recorded down in the control room together as he played against 15 years ago. It brought back Junior Wells memories, the tracks. And here’s where my stock phrase came in as if indeed it were yesterday. I remembered talking to (and I remember the shocked look from David Santos!): Junior not long after we finished the record, and he was “That was great, Mick (and it was). But can we do it back in Chicago. His mother did like those red shoes. again?” (Because it can be even better.) I’m glad I had some little hand in buying them.

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