There Ain\u2019t No Rules in Rock \u2019n\u2019 Roll<\/em>, there were always going to be stories that didn’t quite make it into the finished book.<\/p>\n\n\n\nNot because they weren’t worth telling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Quite the opposite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There simply wasn’t enough room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A book has page limits, editors have opinions and, eventually, somebody has to say, \u201cThat’s enough stories.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But the stories don’t disappear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They sit in your computer, your notebooks and, most importantly, your memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So I’ve decided that some of those stories deserve another life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What follows are a few of the tales that were never quite finished in time for the book. They cover songwriters, producers, artists, session musicians, record companies, expensive restaurants, famous people, embarrassing moments and one or two occasions when the studio microphone really should have been switched off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They are all part of the same strange, wonderful and occasionally ridiculous world I was fortunate enough to inhabit for more than four decades.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I’ve alwa<\/u>ys said, “There ain’t no rules in rock \u2019n\u2019 roll.”<\/p>\n\n\n\nPaying for Success<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nDave Martin was an excellent songwriter who enjoyed considerable success, particularly through his partnership with Chris Arnold and Geoff Morrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Together they wrote an extraordinary catalogue of songs recorded by some of the true legends of popular music, including Cliff Richard, Wayne Newton, Dusty Springfield, Cilla Black and Mama Cass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even Elvis Presley recorded four of their songs, including \u201cLet’s Be Friends,\u201d \u201cA Little Bit of Green\u201d<\/strong> and \u201cSweet Angeline.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nDave also co-wrote \u201cCan’t Smile Without You,\u201d<\/strong> which became one of Barry Manilow’s most enduring hits.<\/p>\n\n\n\nI once asked Dave how he had managed to get Barry Manilow to record the song.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His answer was fascinating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, we had to pay Barry $25,000. That’s what he charged if he liked a song. He would then choose twelve songs for an album. That meant he had $300,000 guaranteed before he even stepped into the studio.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was more to the deal, of course.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe also knew that if he recorded your song, the royalties would eventually outweigh the initial payment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Barry clearly knew the value of a good song.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And Dave and his partners knew the value of getting the right artist to record one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCan’t Smile Without You\u201d<\/strong> went on to become one of the most played records in the history of popular music.<\/p>\n\n\n\nSometimes you really do have to pay for success.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dinner with a Diamond<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nMy dear friend Ben Nesbit was Managing Director of Feldmans Music Publishing Company and, when he eventually left, managed to retain Bob Dylan’s European publishing interests.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In 1974, Ben started a joint venture at De Lane Lea Wembley called Delben<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\nAlthough I was employed as a recording engineer, I was privileged to be offered a secondary role as a talent scout and producer for the new venture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ben had a wonderful collection of stories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One of my favourites involved an evening at the new New York apartment of Neil Diamond.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Neil had just moved into a very plush residence and invited a few friends over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Among them were Ben and his wife, Jean, along with some very serious names from the music business.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
David Braun was there, one of the most powerful lawyers in the industry. He had represented Bob Dylan, Neil Diamond, George Harrison and Michael Jackson, as well as handling Ben’s American interests.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Woody Allen was there too, along with Albert Grossman, Bob Dylan’s legendary manager and a long-time friend of Ben’s following the Dylan publishing deal with Feldmans in 1962.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ben described Neil’s apartment as being in complete chaos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There were boxes everywhere, with furniture and possessions still waiting to be unpacked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Everyone assumed they would eventually leave and go to a restaurant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then Neil announced that he was ordering pizza.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After everyone had eaten their fill, Neil rolled what Ben described as a very expensive joint<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\nNeil took a few tokes and passed it around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eventually, the Jamaican laughter stick reached Jean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jean had absolutely no idea what it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She carefully took it between her finger and thumb, stuck her nose in the air and, with one furious thrust, stabbed it out in the nearest ashtray.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Neil let out a high-pitched cry:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNooooooooooo!\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nBen always maintained that it was probably the highest note Mr Diamond had ever reached in his career.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Later that evening, David Braun offered Woody Allen a lift home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Apparently, Braun’s car was rather small and ageing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During the journey Woody asked:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo, David, you’re an attorney?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI certainly am,\u201d Braun replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo you do well?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not long afterwards, David Braun bought himself a brand-new, very expensive automobile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I would have loved to have witnessed that conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pride Comes Before a Fall<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nThis story could probably apply to far too many successful artists from the 1960s and \u201970s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the 1970s, the band Mud<\/strong> signed to Mickie Most’s RAK label.<\/p>\n\n\n\nThey were produced by Nicky Chinn and Mike Chapman, probably the most successful pop songwriting and production team of the period.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Between 1973 and 1976, Mud achieved an astonishing fourteen Top 20 UK hit singles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then things began to change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They left RAK and signed to RCA Records, but by the end of 1978 RCA had dropped them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Around that time, on behalf of Delben Records, I hired Mud as session musicians for a single we were recording with one of our solo artists.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the final day, which happened to be a Friday, they had to finish early because they had a gig that evening in a pub in Peckham, South London.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn’t resist asking the obvious question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
How could a band that had enjoyed so many hit records now be playing a pub?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The answer was surprisingly sad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They explained that they couldn’t use the name Mud<\/strong> for the bookings they were taking.<\/p>\n\n\n\nIf a pub booked Mud, the audience would expect the whole spectacle: the famous band, the colourful suits, the lights and the stage show they had become known for.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They could no longer afford any of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So they had to work under another name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From the top of the charts to a pub in Peckham in just a few years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
How sad is that?<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nWho Is John Velasco-Mills?<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\nBorn: 19 July 1945<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nJohn Velasco-Mills had a remarkable career in the music business.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He began in theatre before moving into music publishing, production and artist management.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Over a career spanning five decades, he worked with some extraordinary names, including Black Sabbath, The Fifth Dimension, Tony Orlando and Dawn, Yes, ELO, Tommy Boyce and Thelma Houston.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His career included positions as:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\nDirector of Canopy Music<\/li>\n\n\n\n Director of United Artists Ltd., London<\/li>\n\n\n\n Managing Director of Pure Cream Entertainment<\/li>\n\n\n\n President of North American Entertainment Ltd.<\/li>\n\n\n\n Manager of Randy Edelman<\/li>\n\n\n\n Executive Producer of the Sesame Street<\/em> Record Series<\/li>\n\n\n\nBoard Member of American Theatre Networks and North American Entertainment Group<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\nI first met John in the early 1970s when he was Managing Director of United Artists.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He booked many sessions at De Lane Lea studios.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What impressed me was that he was only 27 \u2014 just seven years older than me \u2014 yet had already achieved so much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
John had a magnetic personality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Whatever the circumstances, his infectious laugh could put anyone at ease.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He booked me to record many of his United Artists acts, including Diane Solomon, whose Diane Solomon Show<\/em> in the late 1970s was a great success and quickly made her a regular on British television.<\/p>\n\n\n\nHe also worked with John Leyton, who had enjoyed a hugely successful career as a recording artist and stage performer in the early 1960s, followed by television and film success.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
John introduced me to many remarkable artists, and I have several memories of working with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Randy Edelman<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nIn 1975, John invited me to record Randy Edelman, who was enjoying chart success with his hit \u201cConcrete and Clay.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nRandy was a true professional and extremely easy to work with, making the session a pleasure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But around the same time, another extraordinary character came along.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tommy Boyce.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tommy Boyce<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nTommy Boyce was an American musician and songwriter who became particularly famous through his association with The Monkees and his hugely successful songwriting partnership with Bobby Hart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His first major success as a songwriter came with \u201cBe My Guest,\u201d<\/strong> recorded by Fats Domino.<\/p>\n\n\n\nBoyce and Hart went on to write more than 300 songs and were involved in records that sold more than 42 million copies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Little did I know that, over the following years, I would embark on a journey of learning, laughter and occasional exasperation with this remarkable individual.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The insanity I encountered during my career working with other artists paled into insignificance beside the wild, mercurial genius of Tommy Boyce.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I loved him dearly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dream Express<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nAt the end of 1976, John signed the Belgian group Dream Express<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\nThe group consisted of three beautiful Dutch sisters \u2014 Bianca, Stella and Patricia Maessen \u2014 together with Belgian musician Luc Smets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I went on to record a fabulous album with them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In early 1977, John and I flew to Belgium so I could supervise their sound during a live television broadcast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The programme was effectively the selection process to decide which Belgian act would represent the country in that year’s Eurovision Song Contest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dream Express won the Belgian selection that night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They then went on to represent Belgium in the main Eurovision final, finishing seventh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The \u00a325 Sausage and Mash<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nOn one occasion, I had a meeting near John’s United Artists offices in Mortimer Street and decided to drop in for a visit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After we’d chatted for a while, John suggested we go to lunch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I welcomed the idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When we stepped outside, however, I was surprised to find a large limousine waiting for us, complete with chauffeur, who immediately opened the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We headed to a nearby upmarket restaurant called Quincy\u2019s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The place was enormous, and the menu was so large it was almost difficult to hold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Strangely, despite this enormous menu, there were only a handful of dishes actually available.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
John recommended the house speciality, Tournedos Rossini<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\nI politely declined.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead, I ordered sausage and mash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
John looked genuinely puzzled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you sure? The steaks here are incredible.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m sure your suggestion is excellent,\u201d I replied, \u201cbut I really want to see what \u00a325 worth of sausage and mash looks like.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Remember, this was the early 1970s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a325 was serious money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the meal arrived, the mash was perfectly ordinary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was, however, the first time I had ever seen a sausage that could legitimately be described as jumbo<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\nThere was also a small dish of onion gravy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To be honest, it didn’t exactly look like \u00a325 worth of sausage and mash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During lunch, I couldn’t resist asking John how the chauffeur had known to have the limousine waiting outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
John grinned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have a button underneath my desk. When I press it, the chauffeur gets the signal to come outside.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I then asked:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow do we get back?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe walk,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Seeing the look on my face, he burst out laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOnly joking. I’ll ask the ma\u00eetre d’ to call the office.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
John also explained that he had a deal with the restaurant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He received a percentage from Quincy\u2019s for every United Artists client he brought there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Now that was what I call a business lunch.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nA Special Evening at Quincy\u2019s<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nShortly afterwards, John invited me and my wife, Sue, to a special evening at one of Quincy\u2019s large function rooms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was a showcase introducing Randy Edelman to a star-studded audience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When Sue and I arrived and took our seats, it quickly became obvious that we were the only people in the room who weren’t famous.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I leaned over to Sue and whispered:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI bet they’re all wondering who we are.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was a spectacular evening, with wonderful food, great music and a performance from Randy that lived up to every expectation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eventually, the evening came to an end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
People began drifting away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I headed up the grand staircase looking for the men’s room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I returned, Sue wanted to visit the ladies’ room, so I told her I’d wait outside and arrange for our pre-booked taxi.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When Sue eventually joined me in the cab, she had a huge smile on her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As we drove away, she told me that while walking up the staircase she had found a large roll of cash lying on the steps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We briefly discussed whether we should try to return it to one of the wealthy and famous guests.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the end, we decided to hold onto it for the time being.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The taxi dropped us at the studio in Wembley, where we knew the bar would still be open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sue joined a small group while I went to the bar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I reached into my pocket to pay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My money was gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I hurried over to Sue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCan you check how much money you found?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She counted it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Exactly \u00a3110<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\nThe precise amount I had been carrying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I explained this, Sue looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don’t think so.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, how else would I know the exact amount?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We decided not to argue about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I asked her for \u00a320 to pay for the drinks and said we’d discuss the mystery later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For years afterwards, the incident became a recurring subject of debate between us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then, approximately 25 years later, Sue finally admitted that the money she’d found on the staircase had indeed been mine all along.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I put it down to one hell of a lucky find.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had a close and wonderful working relationship and friendship with John for many years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He introduced me to countless artists and opened doors that led to some unforgettable moments in my career.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And, apparently, occasionally returned my own money to me.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nSession Players \u2014 Or Who?<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\nSince the 1960s, many producers have chosen to use session musicians rather than the actual members of a band.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was often a simple matter of economics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A producer could bring in a group of experienced session players and, in a three-hour session, walk away with two or three tight, professional tracks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What might surprise you is just how many of your favourite records weren’t actually played by the band whose name appeared on the label.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two well-known examples are The Monkees<\/strong> and The Bay City Rollers<\/strong>, neither of whom played the instruments on many of their hit recordings.<\/p>\n\n\n\nAnd it wasn’t just the instruments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes the voice you saw on television wasn’t the voice you heard on the record.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Lion Sleeps Tonight<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nIn 1982, the band Tight Fit<\/strong> had a huge hit with \u201cThe Lion Sleeps Tonight.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe group was fronted by Steve Grant, a former male model \u2014 a good-looking, muscular guy who appeared on television dressed rather appropriately as Tarzan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But the actual vocalist on the hit recording was a much smaller chap from the north of England who looked rather like a skinny, miniature version of Buddy Holly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He received a session fee for providing the vocals on the two hit singles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And that was that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The public saw one person.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The voice belonged to somebody else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That’s show business.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe Non-Singing Duo<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nIn the 1990s, there was a high-profile television duo who enjoyed several hit records.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When they first recorded their vocals in the studio, they weren’t particularly convinced by their performances.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The producer reassured them that, with the arrival of modern technology and Auto-Tune, there was nothing to worry about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A few days later, however, a couple of professional session singers were brought in to replace the original vocals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the finished record was played to the original artists, they were absolutely delighted with the result.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They had no idea that it wasn’t actually them singing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After they had enjoyed considerable success, I happened to speak to one of the session singers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I jokingly suggested that he should appear on the television programme Stars in Their Eyes<\/strong> and sing one of the duo’s hits.<\/p>\n\n\n\nHe laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI would,\u201d he said, \u201cbut how would I feel if I didn’t win?\u201d You couldn’t make it up.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nDropping a Real Clanger<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nJust after I started working at Pye, I heard a story that had travelled around the studios faster than a drummer playing while parked on double yellow lines.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A very famous female singer was in the studio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was a household name then and remains one today, with a string of major hits behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She was sitting in the control room with the producer and engineer while the musicians were finishing their work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During a short break, the main engineer asked the young tape operator \u2014 his assistant \u2014 to go down into the studio and set up a vocal microphone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Also present was a young lad who had literally started working at the studio that very day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had been given the job of shadowing the tape operator and learning the ropes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was quite a start to his career.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His first day in the business and he was sitting in on a prestigious session with one of the biggest female stars in the country.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He followed the tape operator down to the studio floor and watched carefully as he set up the vocal microphone, music stand and headphones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The microphone was plugged in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The headphones were connected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Everything was going perfectly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then the young lad turned towards the microphone and, with a cheeky grin, said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe’s better looking in real life, isn’t she? I’d love to fuck the life out of her.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nUnfortunately for him, the microphone was live.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His words were broadcast loud and clear throughout the control room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was probably a moment of absolute silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then the studio manager looked at the young man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow long have you been working here \u2014 not including today?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was fired within minutes of starting his first day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had broken the number-one golden rule of recording studios:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
NEVER SAY ANYTHING UNTOWARD IN FRONT OF A LIVE MICROPHONE.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nSome lessons in the recording business are learned the hard way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Embarrassing Moments<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nIn the 1970s, I had the privilege of working with a singer-songwriter who had achieved considerable success.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He had secured a major record deal and had written songs that were subsequently recorded by several popular acts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He also had a distinctive appearance, particularly his hairstyle: long, blow-dried hair with a large bouffant top, spiked and bleached.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tina Turner would later take a similar look to another level in the 1980s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One particular session, the artist was extremely late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was getting restless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The musicians were getting restless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eventually, he arrived with his girlfriend, Rona, who happened to be a hairdresser.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Clearly sensing the tension in the studio, Rona decided to accept responsibility for their lateness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She turned to everyone and shouted, completely innocently:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSorry we’re late, guys. It’s all my fault. Before we left, I told him I had to wash his hair and it wouldn’t take too long, as I’d give him a quick blow job.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nThe studio erupted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The artist immediately saw the joke and roared with laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Rona, however, couldn’t understand what everyone found so funny.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes you really do have to choose your words carefully.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nDigging Yourself a Hole<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nWhile working at my own studio, KD’s, I had the opportunity to collaborate with a very well-known female singer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We were in the control room overdubbing keyboards when, halfway through the session, she suddenly announced:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI love this studio!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She then turned to the keyboard player and casually said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI recently worked at XXXXXX Studios. What a shitty place that is. Have you ever worked there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The keyboard player remained completely calm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then came the killer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI actually own it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You could almost feel the tension bouncing off the walls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was one of those moments when a conversation simply stops dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
From that point onwards, the keyboard player’s performance seemed to change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Whether it was nerves or simply my imagination, his playing suddenly sounded less like that of the professional musician we’d been hearing and more like someone who had just started learning the instrument.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was a classic case of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person at exactly the wrong time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes the best thing you can do in a studio is think before you speak.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nYouthful Exuberance<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n\n\n\nAfter nearly 40 years in recording studios, I thought there wasn’t much left that could surprise me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I found myself recording a bunch of young lads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They were actually a nice bunch of kids \u2014 apart from the guitarist, who was also the bandleader.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He seemed to believe he knew everything about everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Throughout the session he was barking orders left, right and centre, including at me, making the whole atmosphere increasingly uncomfortable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I did my best to ignore him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eventually, however, I could take no more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was setting up the microphone in front of his guitar amplifier when he pointed towards his new effects unit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was one of those small boxes containing all sorts of guitar effects \u2014 phaser, flanger, tremolo, chorus and the like.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked at me with an irritatingly smug expression and said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI guess you’ve never seen one of these before?\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\nI couldn’t resist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at the little box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I looked back at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, I never. They’re not still making those, are they?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was a brief silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I carried on setting up the microphone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Strangely enough, the rest of the day went rather well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes experience doesn’t need to shout.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n