to listen to them. When she did, she discovered that while they were beautiful records the tempos were much slower than she had anticipated. The ultra-ballad approach was not what Melissa had in mind.
During the planning meetings, I listen more than I talk. Some producers walk in, take charge, and dictate what an artist should do. Nothing is more offensive than a producer who disregards theartist’s ideas; it’s presumptuous, and it usually leads to disappointment and failure.
Consider what happened to Aretha Franklin.
When she signed with Columbia Records in the early 1960s, Aretha was molded according to a formula devised years earlier by Columbia’s A&R director, Mitch Miller. Although she was a sensational pianist, Aretha’s instrumental prowess was largely ignored and her vocals emphasized. The music she was given to record was aimed at a middle-of-the-road white audience. While she made some very good records for the label, few of Aretha’s Columbia recordings were big sellers because they didn’t reflect who she really was: an incomparable rhythm and blues artist with a ton of soul.
Remember what I said about the danger of formulas?
While Mitch’s ideas for turning neophytes into stars worked for vocalists of the early 1950s (Tony Bennett, Rosemary Clooney, Guy Mitchell, and Frankie Laine), they didn’t work for the edgier artists (like Aretha Franklin) that Columbia signed a decade later.
Planning session with Michel Legrand and Melissa Errico Phil Ramone Collection
It took Ahmet Ertegun, Jerry Wexler, and Tom Dowd at Atlantic Records to recognize who Aretha was, and where she belonged. When he signed her in 1967, the first thing Wexler told Aretha was, “I want you to feel free, and to record the music that’s in your heart.”Wexler and Dowd listened to Aretha’s ideas, and it made a difference in what she recorded. Singles like “I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You)” and “Respect” were the antithesis of what she’d done at Columbia. Recording them helped her build a wide audience and succeed the late Dinah Washington as the “Queen of R&B.”
I spoke earlier about honesty and trust, and few things can shake an artist’s faith in a producer faster than the perceived mishandling of a problem, no matter how minor.
Nearly every project hits a bump or two along the way, and I try to find a moment during our initial meeting to discuss in advance some strategies for coping with them.
What happens if we get to the session, and after listening to a playback of the day’s work the artist decides they don’t like the arrangement, or the way a particular soloist is playing? If we haven’t thrashed out the details, the artist may not feel comfortable telling me they’re dissatisfied until late in the session. If I’ve just let the band (or the offending soloist) leave the studio and there’s not enough time or enough money in the budget to bring them back for a retake, no one will be happy.
Sharing our expectations up-front helps everyone understand their roles.
I’m easygoing, but I have a methodical way of working, and the first meeting is also a good time for me to set the ground rules so we can maximize our productivity once we get to the studio.
Don’t misunderstand: I’m not a schoolmarm, or a strict disciplinarian by any stretch of the imagination! If the setting and mood are right, the sensitive topics I touch on at this first meeting are broached in a friendly, inoffensive way. Most of them are fundamental, commonsense social and emotional issues that are essential to any successful interaction, whether you’re a performer or producer.
First and foremost, I strive for genuine, direct communication.
In our business, phoniness rings outrageously loud. “Oh,Sweetie! Baby! Cookie! Darling! How wonderful you are!” That sort of fawning is cloying and superfluous. A few genuine words of praise mean more to an artist than a string of sycophantic compliments. Simply saying,
During the planning meetings, I listen more than I talk. Some producers walk in, take charge, and dictate what an artist should do. Nothing is more offensive than a producer who disregards theartist’s ideas; it’s presumptuous, and it usually leads to disappointment and failure.
Consider what happened to Aretha Franklin.
When she signed with Columbia Records in the early 1960s, Aretha was molded according to a formula devised years earlier by Columbia’s A&R director, Mitch Miller. Although she was a sensational pianist, Aretha’s instrumental prowess was largely ignored and her vocals emphasized. The music she was given to record was aimed at a middle-of-the-road white audience. While she made some very good records for the label, few of Aretha’s Columbia recordings were big sellers because they didn’t reflect who she really was: an incomparable rhythm and blues artist with a ton of soul.
Remember what I said about the danger of formulas?
While Mitch’s ideas for turning neophytes into stars worked for vocalists of the early 1950s (Tony Bennett, Rosemary Clooney, Guy Mitchell, and Frankie Laine), they didn’t work for the edgier artists (like Aretha Franklin) that Columbia signed a decade later.
Planning session with Michel Legrand and Melissa Errico Phil Ramone Collection
It took Ahmet Ertegun, Jerry Wexler, and Tom Dowd at Atlantic Records to recognize who Aretha was, and where she belonged. When he signed her in 1967, the first thing Wexler told Aretha was, “I want you to feel free, and to record the music that’s in your heart.”Wexler and Dowd listened to Aretha’s ideas, and it made a difference in what she recorded. Singles like “I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You)” and “Respect” were the antithesis of what she’d done at Columbia. Recording them helped her build a wide audience and succeed the late Dinah Washington as the “Queen of R&B.”
I spoke earlier about honesty and trust, and few things can shake an artist’s faith in a producer faster than the perceived mishandling of a problem, no matter how minor.
Nearly every project hits a bump or two along the way, and I try to find a moment during our initial meeting to discuss in advance some strategies for coping with them.
What happens if we get to the session, and after listening to a playback of the day’s work the artist decides they don’t like the arrangement, or the way a particular soloist is playing? If we haven’t thrashed out the details, the artist may not feel comfortable telling me they’re dissatisfied until late in the session. If I’ve just let the band (or the offending soloist) leave the studio and there’s not enough time or enough money in the budget to bring them back for a retake, no one will be happy.
Sharing our expectations up-front helps everyone understand their roles.
I’m easygoing, but I have a methodical way of working, and the first meeting is also a good time for me to set the ground rules so we can maximize our productivity once we get to the studio.
Don’t misunderstand: I’m not a schoolmarm, or a strict disciplinarian by any stretch of the imagination! If the setting and mood are right, the sensitive topics I touch on at this first meeting are broached in a friendly, inoffensive way. Most of them are fundamental, commonsense social and emotional issues that are essential to any successful interaction, whether you’re a performer or producer.
First and foremost, I strive for genuine, direct communication.
In our business, phoniness rings outrageously loud. “Oh,Sweetie! Baby! Cookie! Darling! How wonderful you are!” That sort of fawning is cloying and superfluous. A few genuine words of praise mean more to an artist than a string of sycophantic compliments. Simply saying,
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