LEGEND Your Song of the Day

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Ramsey

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Ramsey
Speaking of Reggae... Sting and The Police were heavily influenced by Jah's sound.

This is my favorite Police song. The video itself might be a little hokey,,, but the song brings back some very nice memories... it always makes me smile.




YES isn't renown for Reggae sounds, but the band has skirted the genre twice. About once a month, the skirt I chase, asks moi to play that Yes Song that she likes so much. I shake my head, and wonder how my wife meshes so neatly, with such an obscure Yes Song. And I tell her so, but secretly I'm proud of my Baby Doll, for exhibiting exquisite taste, far surpassing the rock critics who panned the album and the song, just because it was cool to hate progressive rock in the 80's.

In the 80's, you had to sneak up to the record counter, in a black overcoat that flowed to the floor, and speak in hushed tones about Yes and Marillion , purchasing progressive rock albums wrapped in brown paper sacks.

Hey Selassi, You obviously love and know the Raggae genre intimately. Please recommend 5 Reggae albums you can't live without. The Reggae albums you return to time and time again! Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy YES's excursion into Calypso and Progressive flavored Raggae , because...I'm Running to buy the albums you recommend!


Relax...Trevor Horn produced this song too!
 
Last edited:

Prime Time

PT
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Peter
I had one of those! Still got the album, Welcome to the Pleasuredome, on CD. Gets the occasional airing, much to the annoyance of my neighbours!

It is a good one. The production work on that was excellent.





In the 80's, you had to sneak up to the record counter, in a black overcoat that flowed to the floor, and speak in hushed tones about Yes and Marillion , purchasing progressive rock albums wrapped in brown paper sacks

Ramsey you have a knack for descriptive writing. Ever do that professionally?
 

Selassie I

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Haole
YES isn't renown for Reggae sounds, but the band has skirted the genre twice. About once a month, the skirt I chase, asks moi to play that Yes Song that she likes so much. I shake my head, and wonder how my wife meshes so neatly, with such an obscure Yes Song. And I tell her so, but secretly I'm proud of my Baby Doll, for exhibiting exquisite taste, far surpassing the rock critics who panned the album and the song, just because it was cool to hate progressive rock in the 80's.

In the 80's, you had to sneak up to the record counter, in a black overcoat that flowed to the floor, and speak in hushed tones about Yes and Marillion , purchasing progressive rock albums wrapped in brown paper sacks.

Hey Selassi, You obviously love and know the Raggae genre intimately. Please recommend 5 Reggae albums you can't live without. The Reggae albums you return to time and time again! Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy YES's excursion into Calypso and Progressive flavored Raggae , because...I'm Running to buy the albums you recommend!


Relax...Trevor Horn produced this song too!



I'll have to think about that. So many to choose from.

When I'm in the correct frame of mind one night this week, I'll put a list or 2 together for you.
 

Ramsey

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Ramsey
It is a good one. The production work on that was excellent.







Ramsey you have a knack for descriptive writing. Ever do that professionally?


Yeah a little. I'm more of a stream of conscious poet, cramming my round words into square prose.
 

Prime Time

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...We were children once, playing with toys,



Yes, the most excellent Stevie Winwood. Totally forgot about this album. Has to be one of the strangest album titles ever.
--------------------------------
The Buggles - 'Video Killed The Radio Star.' When I signed up for MTV this was the first video that was played. Now someone needs to write 'The Internet Killed The Music Industry' and the circle will be complete.



The Buggles 'Video Killed The Radio Star'
Classic Tracks

The Buggles' JG Ballard-inspired 'Video Killed The Radio Star' hit the number one spot in no fewer than 16 different countries, and confirmed Trevor Horn in his career as a producer in the process.

Richard Buskin


The Buggles: Geoff Downes (left) and Trevor Horn.Photo: Redferns

When, at one minute past midnight on August 1st, 1981, MTV first hit US airwaves, reaching just a few thousand people in northern New Jersey, the words "Ladies and gentleman, rock and roll,” were announced over footage of the space shuttle Columbia's recent launch countdown. Thereafter, the groundbreaking cable network's original theme song was followed by its inaugural video which, in light of the cultural revolution that it hoped to instigate, boasted an appropriate title: 'Video Killed The Radio Star'. Just under two decades later, on February 27th, 2000, it would also be the one-millionth video aired on MTV.

Released in September 1979 and a chart-topper in no less than 16 countries (including the UK, where it hit number one that October), 'Video Killed The Radio Star' was written by Trevor Horn, Geoff Downes and Bruce Woolley, and initially recorded by composer/performer/producer Woolley's band the Camera Club for their album English Garden. However, it was the version subsequently issued by Horn and Downes as the Buggles that became an instant classic; a nostalgic yet techno-savvy rumination on the 1960s' passing of a musical era that had previously been dominated by the radio, focusing on an artist whose career hit the skids thanks to the rising popularity of television.

As per the lyrics, sung and mainly written by Horn, set to music largely composed by Woolley, "In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind, we've gone too far.” In truth, rather than celebrate the new age that MTV was ushering in, the song was merely accepting it as inevitable.

Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes at Sarm East, 1979. They are standing beside the Trident TSM console used to record 'Video Killed The Radio Star'.Photo: Michael Ochs Archive/GettyHorn and Downes first teamed up in 1976 as members of singer Tina Charles's disco-pop backing band; Downes on keyboards, Horn on bass. Charles's Indian-British producer, Biddu, hired both men as session musicians, and his work in the fields of Hi-NRG and electronic disco had a profound influence on Horn's own production aspirations. It was while playing in the house band at London's Hammersmith Palais that Horn met Woolley, and after they and Downes began writing songs that they themselves could record they came up with 'Video Killed The Radio Star' and tracked a demo with Tina Charles performing the lead vocal.

In an interview with The Guardian in 2004, Trevor Horn stated that he had been fascinated by technology's dehumanising effect on society. Accordingly, the inspiration for the song was, he said, "a [JG] Ballard story called 'Sound Sweep' in which a boy goes around old buildings with a vacuum cleaner that sucks up sound. I had a feeling that we were reflecting an age in the same way that he was.”

It was with this feeling in mind that Horn and Downes began hawking the 'Video' demo to assorted labels and attracted the interest of Chris Blackwell at Island Records. Horn, meanwhile, was also garnering personal attention from Sarm Studio's co-owner Jill Sinclair, and this coincided with her signing the Buggles to Sarm's new production company. When Blackwell heard about this, he upped his offer to a level at which Sarm couldn't compete, and the result was that Sinclair released the synth-pop duo from their contract.

"Being that Jill was going to marry Trevor, she was also looking out for his best interests,” says Gary Langan, who, as one of two engineers to record 'Video Killed The Radio Star', also took care of the mix. "It worked out well for everyone.”

White City To Brick Lane

Gary Langan as he was when photographed for an SOS feature on Jeff Wayne's War Of The Worlds in 2005.

This included Mr Langan. Born in 1956, he is a native Londoner who, as a kid, was faced with a simple choice during his school holidays: either help his mother at her hairdressing salon or hang out at BBC Radio's White City and Portland Place facilities while his father played violin, saxophone and clarinet on sessions for the Beeb's Light Programme.

"That wasn't a difficult decision,” he says. "Having sat on a piano stool from the age of seven and discovered I didn't really like performing, I found myself in recording studios at the age of 12 and, by the time I was 14, my heart was set on making music that way, behind the console. Hanging out with Dad at those BBC studios, as well as at IBC, I'd watch these guys in white coats work in booths that were equipped with what in those days looked like huge amounts of electronics. Actually, they were using a four-channel mixer for BBC sessions that were cut straight to disc and broadcast the next day.”

In 1974, while Gary Langan was studying for an electronics degree in telecommunications, he interviewed for a job at Trident Studios in Central London and, after impressing owners Norman and Barry Sheffield, he then missed out on the opportunity because, as he puts it, "I hadn't yet learned how to lie. Like a naïve little idiot, when it came to filling out the application form I entered my real age and they had to tear it up. In those days, the GLC [Greater London Council] licencing laws stated that you couldn't work after certain hours if you were under the age of 18. I was 17 and three quarters...”

Soon after, Langan's father ran into some people from Sarm Studios during a gig at The Dorchester Hotel, and discovered that there was an opening for a tape-op-cum-tea-boy at their newly constructed studio on East London's Brick Lane. Two days later, Gary interviewed for the job and, having now learned to stretch the truth, he passed the test, quit college and entered the music business. As an assistant, he subsequently worked with acts such as David Cassidy, the Drifters, the Bay City Rollers and Queen — including the albums A Night At The Opera, A Day At The Races and News Of The World — before eventually becoming Sarm's Chief Engineer and bumping into Trevor Horn.

When Gary Met Trevor

Hugh Padgham, who co-engineered 'Video Killed The Radio Star' — although not according to the NME...

"Sarm was one of two 48-track studios and Trevor needed to put a tambourine on a demo that he was doing,” Langan recalls. "He'd run out of tracks, so he turned up on our doorstep and went 48-track to add the tambourine.

"At that time, punk music was happening and I was not into it. In fact, there was only one punk record ever made at Sarm and that was the Boomtown Rats' first album. So, without realising it, I was looking for something different and then along came this guy called Trevor Horn who had a whole different approach to making a record. He'd do mad things like just recording a bass drum while having the drummer dummy-play the other parts on his knees or on loads of tea towels covering the snare and toms. Then we'd record the hi-hat followed by the snare. It was a completely different way of working.

"Trevor was also one of the first guys to start fooling around with drum machines. The Roland TR808 — boy, Trevor could make that sing. That was one of the great early tools. We hit it off immediately and that has continued throughout our career. We recently worked together on a new Seal album — with, in typically complicated Trevor fashion, him in LA and me doing real-time strings and brass in London via ISDN and Skype — and there's still a great chemistry between the two of us. Like a bass player and drummer in the same band, we don't actually have to talk about things; we can just get on and do them in the knowledge that whatever each of us are good at will be taken care of. That's because we have worked together, off and on, for so long. However, in the early days Trevor was ruling things with an iron rod and he wouldn't accept compromise. That just did not come into it.

"In those days, decisions were made there and then. So, if, for example, one of Geoff's keyboards needed some chorusing and reverb on it, you would record it that way. Whereas today everyone sits around and goes, 'Well, we could do this or we could do that,' you made decisions and those decisions then influenced the next process.”

As it happens, Langan wasn't initially involved in the recording of the Buggles' debut single. That honour fell to Hugh Padgham, then a resident engineer at Richard Branson's Townhouse Studios in West London, where he tracked most of the instruments on 'Video Killed The Radio Star'.

"Hugh and I were always jostling with one another,” Langan says. "As tiny as Sarm was, we were turning out big records, including those three Queen albums, Foreigner, Ian Hunter and the Strawbs. At the same time, Hugh was getting involved with big projects over at The Townhouse, and after he worked there on 'Video', recording Paul Robinson's drums, Trevor's bass and Geoff's keyboards, I stole that song off him by persuading Trevor that he should come to Sarm to finish it off. That's how I ended up doing the vocals, some overdubs — including Bruce Woolley's guitar — and the mix.”

Sarm East

The Buggles in the early 1980s.

In 1979, Sarm had recently replaced its Trident B-range console with a 40-input Trident TSM. This was housed inside the same control room as two Studer A80 24-track machines and outboard gear that included an EMT 140 echo plate, Eventide digital delay, Eventide phaser, Marshall Time Modulator, Kepex noise gates, Urei and Orban EQs, and Urei 1176, Dbx 160, and UA LA2 and LA3 compressors.

"That whole studio was so tiny,” Langan recalls, "it's astonishing the calibre of work that came out of this basement at the bottom of Brick Lane. I was taught really well by a guy called Gary Lyons who recorded the first Foreigner album, as well as by Mike Stone, who engineered the Queen albums. I had these two great mentors and we turned out some fantastic stuff. The ceiling height in the studio might have been two metres — if that — and yet it was fun because we made everything work by pushing the equipment that we had to the limit. What's more, because we were in the basement of this little office block, after everyone else in the building had gone home we could feed stuff through speakers into the concrete stairwell.”

For 'Video Killed The Radio Star', Trevor Horn was determined to obtain an in-your-face sound that grabbed the listener's attention.

"If you listen to that record, the level of the bass drum is just ridiculous,” Langan remarks. "At the same time, the backing vocals are bone dry and panned left and right. The great thing about working with Trevor is that he knows when something is not right. He will keep leading you on and making you jump through hoops, and then, when it is right, he knows when to stop. I've always said that working with him is like running a marathon.

"For his lead vocal on 'Video', he was looking for something different. In those days, he wasn't the world's best singer — like a fine wine, he has improved over the years. So, to help disguise the vocal he wanted a sort of telephone voice, and I therefore sat there for a few hours and put it through some graphics and lots of compression. There were absolutely no dynamics left in it whatsoever by the time it had been recorded, pumped back out through a Vox AC30, and then compressed and EQ'ed again. Beforehand, we'd tried using a bullhorn but it really was harsh — the task was to make the vocal loud without cutting your head off. It still had to retain some softness to it, and it was the AC30 that really gave it that quality.

"To record his voice, I would have used a dynamic mic. I'm a great lover of dynamics. Yes, you can have your fabulous [Neumann] U47s and 67s, and they're great for vocals, but when you want something with a bit of guts, a bit of character, go find yourself some good dynamics and you'll be absolutely OK. For 'Video', I would have therefore miked him with [a Shure] SM57 or SM58, or a Sennheiser 421, or we might have even tried an STC 4038 ribbon. And, to get what he wanted, I comp'ed his performance, which in those days was hard work. It was almost like playing a keyboard. As an engineer, you had to play the mute buttons and faders. Bearing in mind that not many tracks were available, we'd do four or five vocal takes and I'd have to be adept at cutting in halfway through words and syllables. Comp'ing a vocal old-style was a real skill.”

So, for that matter, was mixing to Trevor Horn's specifications.

"My work on 'Video Killed The Radio Star' seemed to go on forever,” Langan says. "I must have mixed that track four or five times. Remember, there was no total recall, so we just used to start again. We'd do a mix and three or four days later Trevor would go, 'It's not happening. We need to do this and we need to do that.' The sound of the bass drum was one of his main concerns, along with his vocal and the backing vocals. It was all about how dry and how loud they should be in the mix without the whole thing sounding ridiculous. As it turned out, that record still had the loudest bass drum ever for its time.

"Sometimes it isn't good to creep up to the mark. You might as well just go from one end to the other in production terms and then pull back. You know, make some really bold statements. So when Trevor was hacked off that the bass drum wasn't loud enough, I'd think, 'OK, now we're going to do a mix with it absolutely loud!' My nickname was Cocky, and after I'd do the new mix he'd go, 'Alright, Cocky, I get the point.' I'm a great believer in not mucking about in the middle. Nobody remembers what goes on in the middle, but everybody remembers what was first and what was last, so I think it's really, really important to go with that.

"I was trying to impress Trevor because I knew I was good. I liked him and I liked what he was doing, so I really did bust my balls to make the guy happy by trying to achieve what he had in his head. It was a challenge and I've always been up for a challenge. Everything I've ever done has been about the challenge. However, I also have to say that, by the fourth time around on this mix, I was thinking, 'Oh, for God's sake. What am I going to do now? What does this guy want?' That's how I came up with putting his voice through the amp — he was forcing me to push myself beyond where I'd gone before. By and by, we ended up having a really good chemistry, and that also included Geoff. I'm not sidelining Geoff. He was a masterful keyboard player, but Trevor really was the driving force. I could probably count on two fingers any point at which he and I have fallen out over the past 30-plus years. It has always been a great relationship.”

The Age of Plastic


After 'Video Killed The Radio Star' had secured the Buggles a contract with Island Records, Horn and Downes had to write material for an album. This, in turn, led to further sessions at Sarm with Gary Langan sitting behind the TSM console, and soon the three men developed a system of working together.

"We recorded to a click track using the TR808,” Langan recalls, "and we had various machines and boxes that supposedly sync'ed everything up. I'd feed the time code from the A80s into this box that would spew out some funny code for the TR808 to use. Everything was done to a click. Trevor is a complete feel merchant, and for him it's all about precision. So we went through the process of recording the rest of the album, and in those days of relatively limited technology we again had to push what we had to the limit. We had to be creative. If, for instance, something required an effect, whether it be tape delay or phasing or some big, delayed reverb, the art was to get that effect right and record it. We didn't have enough channels and other resources to be able to sit at the mix and say, 'OK, I want to phase this, I want to do that, I want to do that...' It all had to be done and then, as I said, it would influence the next process.

"When it came to things like a backing vocal balance, we didn't have a terabyte of storage. So we'd make it as clean as we possibly could, bounce that down to two tracks and then we'd erase. We had to be confident and bold, because we really didn't have the room to move, and in that respect, 'I Love You (Miss Robot)' was one of the best mixes I've ever done. I remember, it was a Sunday, it was very, very late and, as per usual, we were running behind. I started at around 11pm or midnight, finished it at three or four in the morning and still to this day it's a pukka mix.

"As a great believer that a mix should have a feel to it, I think that in some warped way I'm a weird musician. What differentiates a good mix from a bad mix is the feel factor — it's got to feel great. When I listen to some mixes I think, 'It's out of whack. That's not a great feel.' Mixing is a real art form. So is recording. But they are different. They require completely different skills. I think I could teach anybody to record something; I don't think I could teach anybody to mix something, and that's because it's got to come from within you. It's all about the feel. When you're recording, the feel is coming from the musicians and, as the engineer, you're just getting things from A to B in the most expedient way possible. However, when it comes to the mix, all of the musicians are gone, the stage is cleared and now it's your stage.

"You have two feelings inside your body; you've got the head feeling and what I call the tummy feeling. The head feeling is a liar — it trips you up, it tricks you, it tells you false truths. The feeling in the bottom of your tummy — that's when you know it's fantastic. I'd say all of the mixes on that first Buggles album are really good, but for me the best one is 'I Love You (Miss Robot)'. On the other hand, 'Video' was the most difficult because it was the first single. I don't think we remixed any of the other tracks as much as that one.”

Postmortem
The version of 'Video Killed The Radio Star' that appears on the Age Of Plastic album is, at 4:13, about 48 seconds longer than that issued as a single, and this is due to the regular fade-out segueing into a piano and synth coda that ends with a brief sampling of the background vocals contributed by Debi Doss and Linda Jardim. Indeed, it is their bright and vociferous repetition of the chorus that, added to the layers of then-state-of-the-art synthesizers, provides the song with its timeless quality and, paradoxically, also serves as a snapshot of the late '70s and early '80s.

Released in the UK on 4th February, 1980, The Age Of Plastic ran with this theme, musically promoting modern technology while lyrically raising concerns about its impact. Accordingly, the record's opening track, 'Living In The Plastic Age', was also released as a single, along with 'Clean Clean' and 'Elstree', yet none came close to rivalling the global success of 'Video Killed The Radio Star' which earned Gary Langan — not Hugh Padgham — an 'Engineer Of The Year' award from The NME.

"It was far more fun to be creative back then, Trevor understood that and The Age of Plastic was a great album,” asserts Langan, who would subsequently co-found ZTT Records with Trevor Horn, Jill Sinclair and music journalist Paul Morley, in addition to forming avant-garde synth-pop outfit The Art Of Noise with Horn, Morley, programmer JJ Jeczalik and arranger Anne Dudley.

"I've got to tell you,” Langan continues. "I've had such a great time making records. Today, it isn't the same, and that's why I do live work.”

Indeed, with studio production and engineering credits that range from ABC, Big Country and Spandau Ballet to Public Image Ltd, Sarah Brightman and Natalie Imbruglia, Gary Langan is now also immersing himself in the concert sound for various live acts. His first foray into this field was for Jeff Wayne, recreating The War Of The Worlds live.

"I love getting to fiddle with faders,” he says. "When I'm doing a front-of-house mix, I'm there, I'm animated. Lots of front-of-house guys just stand there with their arms folded once the gig gets going. Not me. I'm changing the compression levels on the vocals, as well as the delays and the EQ for every song. 'Hey, for some reason the vocal's suddenly sounding a bit edgy — let's dive in and do something about it.' I can do all that, I can multi-task. What I can't do is just sit and push a mouse around. I come from a world where you sit and make the equipment sing. That's what Trevor and I used to do — we'd really make the equipment sing. And you can hear that with the Buggles. Their music pushed a lot of boundaries and made a lot of people think.

"When people are listening to what you've recorded, you want them to question it. It's like a great book, a great movie, a great play or a great poem: it's got to invoke questions and draw you in. Working with Trevor taught me so many things: don't accept compromise, don't sit back on your laurels, have passion for what you're doing and go that extra mile, because it will pay off. It's the payback factor and that is what Trevor has always been brilliant at. I love working with him.” .

I Love The Smell Of Ampex In The Morning!
"Yesterday, while going through a pile of old vinyl records at home,” says Gary Langan, "I found acetates of the Buggles. Here I was, about to do this interview, and I thought, 'I don't believe it.' Those acetates still smell amazing; a hard drive's got no smell. With classic tracks of the '70s and '80s, you'd go to the mastering room and smell those acetates. Then there was the smell of tape — oooh, opening a box of fresh tape first thing in the morning! That may sound daft, but it was great. There was something sexy about it. A fresh reel of Ampex — whooar! You don't get a bloody hard drive out of a box and go, 'Whooar, that's fantastic.'

"Back then, it was about lining up the tape machine; now it's about file management. And then there was tape editing. That was another great tool. Trevor's multitracks would look like a zebra-crossing. You know, 'I want that middle eight from take three.' We'd physically remove the middle eight and insert it into another take, and there was an art to doing that. Then, if the edit didn't quite work, there was the art of rubbing the edit across the heads so that bits of iron filings smudged it. Again, he might say, 'No, I can still hear the edit,' so I'd give it another go. Standing over me, Trevor would ask, 'What are you doing, Cocky?' and I'd say, 'I'm making the edit sound great, Trevor,' while taking out one millimetre of tape.

"Going back to the days of tape, no track that I did with Trevor wasn't edited. He's ruthless. In line with his request, I'd remove the chorus or middle eight from take five and insert it into the master, and then he'd sit and listen and go, 'Nah.' So I'd then have to pull that part back out, put the original one back in and he'd say, 'No, we've got to go and look further... Why don't we have half of take five, half of take four, make that the middle eight and put that in?' I'm telling you, editing was a real tool. As it is now. It's just that it was an art form in those days.

"When I was lecturing in Japan for SSL, I was taught to edit with a pair of scissors. Up until then I had been using editing blocks, but this Japanese guy showed me how to edit with a pair of scissors. I tried to employ that when I returned to the UK and everybody thought I was nuts. 'OK, tell me I'm nuts, but does it work?' 'Yeah, it works, but you're still nuts.'”
 

Ram_of_Old

Guest
This ones dedicated to Alan. :rockon:

Getting Better by The Beatles

Songfacts®:

The idea of "Getting Better" came to Paul McCartney while he was walking his dog, Martha. The sun started to rise on the walk and he thought "it's getting better." It also reminded him of something that Jimmy Nichol used to say quite often during the short period when he was The Beatles drummer. This song was a true collaborative effort for Lennon and McCartney, with Lennon adding that legendary part about being bad to his woman. He later admitted to being a "hitter" when it came to women. He said "I was a hitter. I couldn't express myself, and I hit."

John Lennon had a bad acid trip during the recording. While doing the overdubs, John began to get very sick. He said, "I suddenly got so scared on the mike. I thought I felt ill and I thought I was going to crack. I said I must get some air." George Martin took him up on the roof of the studios for air and John started walking towards the edge. Martin panicked, thinking that John would fall or leap off and that would be it. On the roof, when John saw Martin looking at him "funny," he realized he was on acid. John decided he couldn't do any more that night, so he sat in the booth and watched the others record. Paul eventually took him home and stayed to keep him company, and he decided to drop some acid with John. It was Paul's first LSD experience.

George Harrison played the tamboura, a large Indian string instrument. It is the droning noise about 2/3rds of the way through.

The string sound at the end was Beatles producer George Martin hitting the strings inside a piano.

Lennon contributed the pessimistic viewpoint, coming up with the line, "It can't get no worse." McCartney usually wrote much happier lyrics than Lennon.

Lennon revisited this song when he used the lyrics, "Every day, in every way, it's getting better and better" for his 1980 track "Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)." This time, instead of taking the cynical side, he was affirming that life does just get keep getting better and better.

This was used in commercials for Phillips television sets in 1999. The living Beatles resent the use of their songs in advertisements, but cannot prevent it because they do not own the publishing rights; Michael Jackson does.

The Beatles had stopped touring by the time this was released. The first time McCartney played it live was on his 2002 "Back In The US" tour. That tour was made into a CD and a 2-hour concert film that aired on ABC and was released on DVD.

This was used in the 2003 movie The Cat in the Hat starring Mike Myers.



Now we are Talking!
 

Ramsey

Starter
Joined
Jul 14, 2013
Messages
610
Name
Ramsey
Yes, the most excellent Stevie Winwood. Totally forgot about this album. Has to be one of the strangest album titles ever.
--------------------------------
The Buggles - 'Video Killed The Radio Star.' When I signed up for MTV this was the first video that was played. Now someone needs to write 'The Internet Killed The Music Industry' and the circle will be complete.



The Buggles 'Video Killed The Radio Star'
Classic Tracks

The Buggles' JG Ballard-inspired 'Video Killed The Radio Star' hit the number one spot in no fewer than 16 different countries, and confirmed Trevor Horn in his career as a producer in the process.

Richard Buskin


The Buggles: Geoff Downes (left) and Trevor Horn.Photo: Redferns

When, at one minute past midnight on August 1st, 1981, MTV first hit US airwaves, reaching just a few thousand people in northern New Jersey, the words "Ladies and gentleman, rock and roll,” were announced over footage of the space shuttle Columbia's recent launch countdown. Thereafter, the groundbreaking cable network's original theme song was followed by its inaugural video which, in light of the cultural revolution that it hoped to instigate, boasted an appropriate title: 'Video Killed The Radio Star'. Just under two decades later, on February 27th, 2000, it would also be the one-millionth video aired on MTV.

Released in September 1979 and a chart-topper in no less than 16 countries (including the UK, where it hit number one that October), 'Video Killed The Radio Star' was written by Trevor Horn, Geoff Downes and Bruce Woolley, and initially recorded by composer/performer/producer Woolley's band the Camera Club for their album English Garden. However, it was the version subsequently issued by Horn and Downes as the Buggles that became an instant classic; a nostalgic yet techno-savvy rumination on the 1960s' passing of a musical era that had previously been dominated by the radio, focusing on an artist whose career hit the skids thanks to the rising popularity of television.

As per the lyrics, sung and mainly written by Horn, set to music largely composed by Woolley, "In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind, we've gone too far.” In truth, rather than celebrate the new age that MTV was ushering in, the song was merely accepting it as inevitable.

Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes at Sarm East, 1979. They are standing beside the Trident TSM console used to record 'Video Killed The Radio Star'.Photo: Michael Ochs Archive/GettyHorn and Downes first teamed up in 1976 as members of singer Tina Charles's disco-pop backing band; Downes on keyboards, Horn on bass. Charles's Indian-British producer, Biddu, hired both men as session musicians, and his work in the fields of Hi-NRG and electronic disco had a profound influence on Horn's own production aspirations. It was while playing in the house band at London's Hammersmith Palais that Horn met Woolley, and after they and Downes began writing songs that they themselves could record they came up with 'Video Killed The Radio Star' and tracked a demo with Tina Charles performing the lead vocal.

In an interview with The Guardian in 2004, Trevor Horn stated that he had been fascinated by technology's dehumanising effect on society. Accordingly, the inspiration for the song was, he said, "a [JG] Ballard story called 'Sound Sweep' in which a boy goes around old buildings with a vacuum cleaner that sucks up sound. I had a feeling that we were reflecting an age in the same way that he was.”

It was with this feeling in mind that Horn and Downes began hawking the 'Video' demo to assorted labels and attracted the interest of Chris Blackwell at Island Records. Horn, meanwhile, was also garnering personal attention from Sarm Studio's co-owner Jill Sinclair, and this coincided with her signing the Buggles to Sarm's new production company. When Blackwell heard about this, he upped his offer to a level at which Sarm couldn't compete, and the result was that Sinclair released the synth-pop duo from their contract.

"Being that Jill was going to marry Trevor, she was also looking out for his best interests,” says Gary Langan, who, as one of two engineers to record 'Video Killed The Radio Star', also took care of the mix. "It worked out well for everyone.”

White City To Brick Lane

Gary Langan as he was when photographed for an SOS feature on Jeff Wayne's War Of The Worlds in 2005.

This included Mr Langan. Born in 1956, he is a native Londoner who, as a kid, was faced with a simple choice during his school holidays: either help his mother at her hairdressing salon or hang out at BBC Radio's White City and Portland Place facilities while his father played violin, saxophone and clarinet on sessions for the Beeb's Light Programme.

"That wasn't a difficult decision,” he says. "Having sat on a piano stool from the age of seven and discovered I didn't really like performing, I found myself in recording studios at the age of 12 and, by the time I was 14, my heart was set on making music that way, behind the console. Hanging out with Dad at those BBC studios, as well as at IBC, I'd watch these guys in white coats work in booths that were equipped with what in those days looked like huge amounts of electronics. Actually, they were using a four-channel mixer for BBC sessions that were cut straight to disc and broadcast the next day.”

In 1974, while Gary Langan was studying for an electronics degree in telecommunications, he interviewed for a job at Trident Studios in Central London and, after impressing owners Norman and Barry Sheffield, he then missed out on the opportunity because, as he puts it, "I hadn't yet learned how to lie. Like a naïve little idiot, when it came to filling out the application form I entered my real age and they had to tear it up. In those days, the GLC [Greater London Council] licencing laws stated that you couldn't work after certain hours if you were under the age of 18. I was 17 and three quarters...”

Soon after, Langan's father ran into some people from Sarm Studios during a gig at The Dorchester Hotel, and discovered that there was an opening for a tape-op-cum-tea-boy at their newly constructed studio on East London's Brick Lane. Two days later, Gary interviewed for the job and, having now learned to stretch the truth, he passed the test, quit college and entered the music business. As an assistant, he subsequently worked with acts such as David Cassidy, the Drifters, the Bay City Rollers and Queen — including the albums A Night At The Opera, A Day At The Races and News Of The World — before eventually becoming Sarm's Chief Engineer and bumping into Trevor Horn.

When Gary Met Trevor

Hugh Padgham, who co-engineered 'Video Killed The Radio Star' — although not according to the NME...

"Sarm was one of two 48-track studios and Trevor needed to put a tambourine on a demo that he was doing,” Langan recalls. "He'd run out of tracks, so he turned up on our doorstep and went 48-track to add the tambourine.

"At that time, punk music was happening and I was not into it. In fact, there was only one punk record ever made at Sarm and that was the Boomtown Rats' first album. So, without realising it, I was looking for something different and then along came this guy called Trevor Horn who had a whole different approach to making a record. He'd do mad things like just recording a bass drum while having the drummer dummy-play the other parts on his knees or on loads of tea towels covering the snare and toms. Then we'd record the hi-hat followed by the snare. It was a completely different way of working.

"Trevor was also one of the first guys to start fooling around with drum machines. The Roland TR808 — boy, Trevor could make that sing. That was one of the great early tools. We hit it off immediately and that has continued throughout our career. We recently worked together on a new Seal album — with, in typically complicated Trevor fashion, him in LA and me doing real-time strings and brass in London via ISDN and Skype — and there's still a great chemistry between the two of us. Like a bass player and drummer in the same band, we don't actually have to talk about things; we can just get on and do them in the knowledge that whatever each of us are good at will be taken care of. That's because we have worked together, off and on, for so long. However, in the early days Trevor was ruling things with an iron rod and he wouldn't accept compromise. That just did not come into it.

"In those days, decisions were made there and then. So, if, for example, one of Geoff's keyboards needed some chorusing and reverb on it, you would record it that way. Whereas today everyone sits around and goes, 'Well, we could do this or we could do that,' you made decisions and those decisions then influenced the next process.”

As it happens, Langan wasn't initially involved in the recording of the Buggles' debut single. That honour fell to Hugh Padgham, then a resident engineer at Richard Branson's Townhouse Studios in West London, where he tracked most of the instruments on 'Video Killed The Radio Star'.

"Hugh and I were always jostling with one another,” Langan says. "As tiny as Sarm was, we were turning out big records, including those three Queen albums, Foreigner, Ian Hunter and the Strawbs. At the same time, Hugh was getting involved with big projects over at The Townhouse, and after he worked there on 'Video', recording Paul Robinson's drums, Trevor's bass and Geoff's keyboards, I stole that song off him by persuading Trevor that he should come to Sarm to finish it off. That's how I ended up doing the vocals, some overdubs — including Bruce Woolley's guitar — and the mix.”

Sarm East

The Buggles in the early 1980s.

In 1979, Sarm had recently replaced its Trident B-range console with a 40-input Trident TSM. This was housed inside the same control room as two Studer A80 24-track machines and outboard gear that included an EMT 140 echo plate, Eventide digital delay, Eventide phaser, Marshall Time Modulator, Kepex noise gates, Urei and Orban EQs, and Urei 1176, Dbx 160, and UA LA2 and LA3 compressors.

"That whole studio was so tiny,” Langan recalls, "it's astonishing the calibre of work that came out of this basement at the bottom of Brick Lane. I was taught really well by a guy called Gary Lyons who recorded the first Foreigner album, as well as by Mike Stone, who engineered the Queen albums. I had these two great mentors and we turned out some fantastic stuff. The ceiling height in the studio might have been two metres — if that — and yet it was fun because we made everything work by pushing the equipment that we had to the limit. What's more, because we were in the basement of this little office block, after everyone else in the building had gone home we could feed stuff through speakers into the concrete stairwell.”

For 'Video Killed The Radio Star', Trevor Horn was determined to obtain an in-your-face sound that grabbed the listener's attention.

"If you listen to that record, the level of the bass drum is just ridiculous,” Langan remarks. "At the same time, the backing vocals are bone dry and panned left and right. The great thing about working with Trevor is that he knows when something is not right. He will keep leading you on and making you jump through hoops, and then, when it is right, he knows when to stop. I've always said that working with him is like running a marathon.

"For his lead vocal on 'Video', he was looking for something different. In those days, he wasn't the world's best singer — like a fine wine, he has improved over the years. So, to help disguise the vocal he wanted a sort of telephone voice, and I therefore sat there for a few hours and put it through some graphics and lots of compression. There were absolutely no dynamics left in it whatsoever by the time it had been recorded, pumped back out through a Vox AC30, and then compressed and EQ'ed again. Beforehand, we'd tried using a bullhorn but it really was harsh — the task was to make the vocal loud without cutting your head off. It still had to retain some softness to it, and it was the AC30 that really gave it that quality.

"To record his voice, I would have used a dynamic mic. I'm a great lover of dynamics. Yes, you can have your fabulous [Neumann] U47s and 67s, and they're great for vocals, but when you want something with a bit of guts, a bit of character, go find yourself some good dynamics and you'll be absolutely OK. For 'Video', I would have therefore miked him with [a Shure] SM57 or SM58, or a Sennheiser 421, or we might have even tried an STC 4038 ribbon. And, to get what he wanted, I comp'ed his performance, which in those days was hard work. It was almost like playing a keyboard. As an engineer, you had to play the mute buttons and faders. Bearing in mind that not many tracks were available, we'd do four or five vocal takes and I'd have to be adept at cutting in halfway through words and syllables. Comp'ing a vocal old-style was a real skill.”

So, for that matter, was mixing to Trevor Horn's specifications.

"My work on 'Video Killed The Radio Star' seemed to go on forever,” Langan says. "I must have mixed that track four or five times. Remember, there was no total recall, so we just used to start again. We'd do a mix and three or four days later Trevor would go, 'It's not happening. We need to do this and we need to do that.' The sound of the bass drum was one of his main concerns, along with his vocal and the backing vocals. It was all about how dry and how loud they should be in the mix without the whole thing sounding ridiculous. As it turned out, that record still had the loudest bass drum ever for its time.

"Sometimes it isn't good to creep up to the mark. You might as well just go from one end to the other in production terms and then pull back. You know, make some really bold statements. So when Trevor was hacked off that the bass drum wasn't loud enough, I'd think, 'OK, now we're going to do a mix with it absolutely loud!' My nickname was Cocky, and after I'd do the new mix he'd go, 'Alright, Cocky, I get the point.' I'm a great believer in not mucking about in the middle. Nobody remembers what goes on in the middle, but everybody remembers what was first and what was last, so I think it's really, really important to go with that.

"I was trying to impress Trevor because I knew I was good. I liked him and I liked what he was doing, so I really did bust my balls to make the guy happy by trying to achieve what he had in his head. It was a challenge and I've always been up for a challenge. Everything I've ever done has been about the challenge. However, I also have to say that, by the fourth time around on this mix, I was thinking, 'Oh, for God's sake. What am I going to do now? What does this guy want?' That's how I came up with putting his voice through the amp — he was forcing me to push myself beyond where I'd gone before. By and by, we ended up having a really good chemistry, and that also included Geoff. I'm not sidelining Geoff. He was a masterful keyboard player, but Trevor really was the driving force. I could probably count on two fingers any point at which he and I have fallen out over the past 30-plus years. It has always been a great relationship.”

The Age of Plastic


After 'Video Killed The Radio Star' had secured the Buggles a contract with Island Records, Horn and Downes had to write material for an album. This, in turn, led to further sessions at Sarm with Gary Langan sitting behind the TSM console, and soon the three men developed a system of working together.

"We recorded to a click track using the TR808,” Langan recalls, "and we had various machines and boxes that supposedly sync'ed everything up. I'd feed the time code from the A80s into this box that would spew out some funny code for the TR808 to use. Everything was done to a click. Trevor is a complete feel merchant, and for him it's all about precision. So we went through the process of recording the rest of the album, and in those days of relatively limited technology we again had to push what we had to the limit. We had to be creative. If, for instance, something required an effect, whether it be tape delay or phasing or some big, delayed reverb, the art was to get that effect right and record it. We didn't have enough channels and other resources to be able to sit at the mix and say, 'OK, I want to phase this, I want to do that, I want to do that...' It all had to be done and then, as I said, it would influence the next process.

"When it came to things like a backing vocal balance, we didn't have a terabyte of storage. So we'd make it as clean as we possibly could, bounce that down to two tracks and then we'd erase. We had to be confident and bold, because we really didn't have the room to move, and in that respect, 'I Love You (Miss Robot)' was one of the best mixes I've ever done. I remember, it was a Sunday, it was very, very late and, as per usual, we were running behind. I started at around 11pm or midnight, finished it at three or four in the morning and still to this day it's a pukka mix.

"As a great believer that a mix should have a feel to it, I think that in some warped way I'm a weird musician. What differentiates a good mix from a bad mix is the feel factor — it's got to feel great. When I listen to some mixes I think, 'It's out of whack. That's not a great feel.' Mixing is a real art form. So is recording. But they are different. They require completely different skills. I think I could teach anybody to record something; I don't think I could teach anybody to mix something, and that's because it's got to come from within you. It's all about the feel. When you're recording, the feel is coming from the musicians and, as the engineer, you're just getting things from A to B in the most expedient way possible. However, when it comes to the mix, all of the musicians are gone, the stage is cleared and now it's your stage.

"You have two feelings inside your body; you've got the head feeling and what I call the tummy feeling. The head feeling is a liar — it trips you up, it tricks you, it tells you false truths. The feeling in the bottom of your tummy — that's when you know it's fantastic. I'd say all of the mixes on that first Buggles album are really good, but for me the best one is 'I Love You (Miss Robot)'. On the other hand, 'Video' was the most difficult because it was the first single. I don't think we remixed any of the other tracks as much as that one.”

Postmortem
The version of 'Video Killed The Radio Star' that appears on the Age Of Plastic album is, at 4:13, about 48 seconds longer than that issued as a single, and this is due to the regular fade-out segueing into a piano and synth coda that ends with a brief sampling of the background vocals contributed by Debi Doss and Linda Jardim. Indeed, it is their bright and vociferous repetition of the chorus that, added to the layers of then-state-of-the-art synthesizers, provides the song with its timeless quality and, paradoxically, also serves as a snapshot of the late '70s and early '80s.

Released in the UK on 4th February, 1980, The Age Of Plastic ran with this theme, musically promoting modern technology while lyrically raising concerns about its impact. Accordingly, the record's opening track, 'Living In The Plastic Age', was also released as a single, along with 'Clean Clean' and 'Elstree', yet none came close to rivalling the global success of 'Video Killed The Radio Star' which earned Gary Langan — not Hugh Padgham — an 'Engineer Of The Year' award from The NME.

"It was far more fun to be creative back then, Trevor understood that and The Age of Plastic was a great album,” asserts Langan, who would subsequently co-found ZTT Records with Trevor Horn, Jill Sinclair and music journalist Paul Morley, in addition to forming avant-garde synth-pop outfit The Art Of Noise with Horn, Morley, programmer JJ Jeczalik and arranger Anne Dudley.

"I've got to tell you,” Langan continues. "I've had such a great time making records. Today, it isn't the same, and that's why I do live work.”

Indeed, with studio production and engineering credits that range from ABC, Big Country and Spandau Ballet to Public Image Ltd, Sarah Brightman and Natalie Imbruglia, Gary Langan is now also immersing himself in the concert sound for various live acts. His first foray into this field was for Jeff Wayne, recreating The War Of The Worlds live.

"I love getting to fiddle with faders,” he says. "When I'm doing a front-of-house mix, I'm there, I'm animated. Lots of front-of-house guys just stand there with their arms folded once the gig gets going. Not me. I'm changing the compression levels on the vocals, as well as the delays and the EQ for every song. 'Hey, for some reason the vocal's suddenly sounding a bit edgy — let's dive in and do something about it.' I can do all that, I can multi-task. What I can't do is just sit and push a mouse around. I come from a world where you sit and make the equipment sing. That's what Trevor and I used to do — we'd really make the equipment sing. And you can hear that with the Buggles. Their music pushed a lot of boundaries and made a lot of people think.

"When people are listening to what you've recorded, you want them to question it. It's like a great book, a great movie, a great play or a great poem: it's got to invoke questions and draw you in. Working with Trevor taught me so many things: don't accept compromise, don't sit back on your laurels, have passion for what you're doing and go that extra mile, because it will pay off. It's the payback factor and that is what Trevor has always been brilliant at. I love working with him.” .

I Love The Smell Of Ampex In The Morning!
"Yesterday, while going through a pile of old vinyl records at home,” says Gary Langan, "I found acetates of the Buggles. Here I was, about to do this interview, and I thought, 'I don't believe it.' Those acetates still smell amazing; a hard drive's got no smell. With classic tracks of the '70s and '80s, you'd go to the mastering room and smell those acetates. Then there was the smell of tape — oooh, opening a box of fresh tape first thing in the morning! That may sound daft, but it was great. There was something sexy about it. A fresh reel of Ampex — whooar! You don't get a bloody hard drive out of a box and go, 'Whooar, that's fantastic.'

"Back then, it was about lining up the tape machine; now it's about file management. And then there was tape editing. That was another great tool. Trevor's multitracks would look like a zebra-crossing. You know, 'I want that middle eight from take three.' We'd physically remove the middle eight and insert it into another take, and there was an art to doing that. Then, if the edit didn't quite work, there was the art of rubbing the edit across the heads so that bits of iron filings smudged it. Again, he might say, 'No, I can still hear the edit,' so I'd give it another go. Standing over me, Trevor would ask, 'What are you doing, Cocky?' and I'd say, 'I'm making the edit sound great, Trevor,' while taking out one millimetre of tape.

"Going back to the days of tape, no track that I did with Trevor wasn't edited. He's ruthless. In line with his request, I'd remove the chorus or middle eight from take five and insert it into the master, and then he'd sit and listen and go, 'Nah.' So I'd then have to pull that part back out, put the original one back in and he'd say, 'No, we've got to go and look further... Why don't we have half of take five, half of take four, make that the middle eight and put that in?' I'm telling you, editing was a real tool. As it is now. It's just that it was an art form in those days.

"When I was lecturing in Japan for SSL, I was taught to edit with a pair of scissors. Up until then I had been using editing blocks, but this Japanese guy showed me how to edit with a pair of scissors. I tried to employ that when I returned to the UK and everybody thought I was nuts. 'OK, tell me I'm nuts, but does it work?' 'Yeah, it works, but you're still nuts.'”


I love that song, and I love the history of that song.

The last Yes album, "Fly From Here" is basically a Yes/Buggles album. Geoff Downes and Trevor Horn had just as much input as Howe and Squire. Jon Anderson was banished from Yes a few years ago. Yes is on their 2nd lead singer since the banishment. A guy named Jon Davison sings lead for yes now, and he's a ringer for Jon Anderson.

 

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The Yes lead singer problem was similar to what happened to Steve Perry in Journey - they both got sick and had to be replaced. Imo neither band ever recovered. The same thing happened to Boston after the suicide of Brad Delp.

You can replace any other member of a band and usually recover but not the lead singer. Brian Johnson replacing Bon Scott in AC/DC would be one but that's a rare exception.
 

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LOL I love Madness videos. 'Our House' and 'One Step Beyond' being at the top of the list. What cracks me up is the choir singing during this song that absolutely doesn't fit. I'm betting there were many pints lifted during the making of this song and video. :cool:
 

Selassie I

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YES isn't renown for Reggae sounds, but the band has skirted the genre twice. About once a month, the skirt I chase, asks moi to play that Yes Song that she likes so much. I shake my head, and wonder how my wife meshes so neatly, with such an obscure Yes Song. And I tell her so, but secretly I'm proud of my Baby Doll, for exhibiting exquisite taste, far surpassing the rock critics who panned the album and the song, just because it was cool to hate progressive rock in the 80's.

In the 80's, you had to sneak up to the record counter, in a black overcoat that flowed to the floor, and speak in hushed tones about Yes and Marillion , purchasing progressive rock albums wrapped in brown paper sacks.

Hey Selassi, You obviously love and know the Raggae genre intimately. Please recommend 5 Reggae albums you can't live without. The Reggae albums you return to time and time again! Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy YES's excursion into Calypso and Progressive flavored Raggae , because...I'm Running to buy the albums you recommend!


Relax...Trevor Horn produced this song too!



I'll have to give you a list of a little more than 5.

First,,, it wouldn't be right if I didn't recommend all of Bob's albums coming out of Tuff Gong Records. If you need a place to start,,, you gotta start there. Stick to the Tuff Gong Recordings.

Here's a list of albums... In no particular order......

Welcome To Jamrock Damian Marley
Mind Control Stephen Marley
Chant Down Babylon Various Artists (1999)
Collie Buddz Collie Buddz
Closer To The Sun Slightly Stupid
Ziggy Marley and The Melody Makers Live (2000)
Toots and The Maytals Live (1980)
'Til Shiloh (Expanded)
Buju Banton
Reggae on the River Live Various Artists

And Greatest Hits by....

Beres Hammond
Morgan Heritage
Third World
Burning Spear
Tanya Stephens
Shaggy


I'm slighting many by only listing these.
 

ram29jackson

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LOL cant believe theres a Frankie goes to Hollywood reference in this area.

time to appreciate the noisy smaller contributors to the music industry that only a few will remember on a large scale

I'm an 80s alternative guy....




Tex and the Horseheads- Guitar Obsession- a live messy version lol









always have to make a Sigue sigue Sputnik reference every now and again LOL

 

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80's alternative is always good. I first heard REM and U2 on college radio during the early 80's. I guess they were considered alternative back in those days. You'll see some odd mostly unheard of bands and artists like Oingo Boingo on this thread from time to time as well as established acts.
 

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'll Take You There' - The Staple Singers



CLASSIC TRACKS: The Staple Singers I'll Take You There
Producer: Al Bell; Engineers: Terry Manning, Jerry Masters
By Richard Buskin


For the Staple Singers' landmark 1972 album, Terry Manning and producer Al Bell employed the talents of Memphis's finest musicians and two of the South's most famous studios.

"I really think it's an art form to use production in a way that ends up pleasing the listener," says Terry Manning, whose credits as a producer and/or engineer include ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Isaac Hayes, Albert King, George Thorogood, Joe Cocker, Joe Walsh, Johnny Winter, the Fabulous Thunderbirds, Al Green, Elton John, Shakira, Lenny Kravitz and, most pertinent to this article, the Staple Singers. "Although I hear everything I have ever worked on critically, and there's always the element of looking back and saying 'Why didn't I do that instead?' I can now enjoy some of those things and actually sit back and just let them go."

Manning was still a high-school freshman in El Paso, Texas, when he began playing guitar and befriended a local attraction named Bobby Fuller — in 1966, Fuller would enjoy brief fame with 'I Fought The Law' before dying in mysterious circumstances. Manning played several gigs with Fuller, who had his own nightclub, record label and two-track home studio, but then relocated to Memphis, Tennessee, when his minister father was assigned a church there in 1963. Since many of the 15-year-old's favourite recordings, by the likes of Rufus Thomas and the Mar-Keys, hailed from that city, he was more than happy to go there, and no sooner had he arrived than he went to Stax Records and snagged a job copying tapes and sweeping floors.

At the same time, Manning also befriended John Fry, another go-getting high-school sophomore, who ran his own Ardent Records label and whose home studio would soon evolve into one of Memphis's top facilities. Not long after Fry cleaned up some demos by a band called Lawson and Four More, of which Terry Manning was a member, the two youngsters began working together alongside future producer Jim Dickinson, and it was the simultaneous employment by Stax and Ardent that provided Manning with his training as an engineer.

"Neither studio had a problem with this arrangement," he says. "In the musical sense, Memphis was fairly isolated — it wasn't associated too much with Philadelphia, Chicago, New York or Los Angeles. Its music style was home-grown, even though technically we were trying to try to emulate the big boys in London, New York and Los Angeles. Musically, Stax was doing what it liked, and together with Ardent we were just one big happy family of people wanting to do music."

Staple Diet
It was in 1971, after having engineered on albums by Isaac Hayes, Albert King, Led Zeppelin and Billy Eckstine, that Terry Manning first assumed the same role for the Staple Singers, pushing the faders in addition to playing guitar, harmonica, melodica and echo harp on their Staple Swingers album. This record, the first to be produced by Al Bell and tracked in Muscle Shoals, saw the Staples moving into funk, having started off as a traditional gospel quartet. Roebuck 'Pops' Staples and daughter Mavis shared lead vocals, backed up initially by Mavis's sister Cleotha and brother Pervis.


Terry Manning (right) at the desk in Ardent Studios in 1969, with James Taylor and Peter Asher.

After flirting with white folk music during the mid-'60s, the Staples had signed with Stax in 1968 and brought themselves up to date by way of 'message' songs on their first two albums for the label, both produced by Steve Cropper. Then, after Pervis was replaced by sister Yvonne, Al Bell took over the production reins and funked things up, and the result was the Staples' halcyon period. This peaked with their fourth Stax album, Be Altitude: Respect Yourself, containing the Luther Ingram/Sir Mack Rice-composed hit 'Respect Yourself', as well as the soul-and-reggae-flavoured number one smash, 'I'll Take You There', written by Bell on Mavis Staples's living-room floor with some uncredited input from her.

"Al Bell was a terrific arranger," asserts Terry Manning. "He was not a musician — he couldn't sit down at a piano and start playing a song and know which chord was which. If he did, it was quite rudimentary, but he really had an ear. He knew what was commercial, he knew what he liked, he knew what sounded good, and he was really interested in mixing musical styles. So, when we hooked up, we did many projects together and he came to rely on me quite heavily from a partial production standpoint, and certainly from a musician's standpoint, and totally from an engineering standpoint. And I would rely on him for his incredible intellect and knowledge of musical styles and feels and how things could meld together. Again, he was someone I learned so much from and to whom I'm so appreciative.

"Al really liked the fact that, in addition to me living in Memphis and knowing the so-called 'Memphis Sound', I also came from a rock standpoint. I was completely into the 'British Invasion' led by the Beatles and the other great groups of the era — in fact, I was possibly into that type of music even more than the music I was working on at the time. So, in his eyes, I would bring a different viewpoint, a more rock & roll viewpoint, to R&B. He would branch out and look at places like Jamaica for the beginnings of ska and reggae music — they would be on other beats than the two and the four; they might be on the one and the three — and he would try to bring those things into the music.

"Al had been on a vacation to Jamaica, and he'd gone to Montego Bay and seen a couple of bands, and he'd also visited the Bahamas and heard different kinds of music in the Caribbean region. When he returned, he had a few records, mostly from Jamaica, and he would play those for me and say 'Listen to the way these musicians are kind of hopping and skipping along instead of just laying down a solid groove.' I'd say 'OK, let's get the guys to try that.'


Photo: Chris Walter / Photofeatures
The Staple Singers in action in 1973.


"We were actually trying to consciously meld things together, to do something different and bring a breath of fresh air to the way we were doing R&B, and I think that really culminated on the Be Altitude album where I overdubbed guitars that were heavily distorted and used Moog synthesizers. Those things just weren't being done at the time in R&B. On 'I'll Take You There', especially, we were really trying to get that jumpy Jamaican, early reggae feel, and it's kinda funny because among my good friends now are those two great Jamaican players and producers, Sly & Robbie. I told them 'Hey, you know, we were trying to copy you guys with "I'll Take You There",' and they said 'Really? We got "I'll Take You There" and we were trying to copy that on some record we were doing!'"

Manning, meanwhile, fulfilled more of a co-production role for many of the Be Altitudesessions, leaving the tracking to engineer Jerry Masters at the Muscle Shoals Sound Studio in Alabama where the rhythm tracks and guide vocals were recorded.

"I gave advice on certain things, both technically and musically, and I also played some guitar, but basically I stayed out of the picture while Jerry did his thing," Manning says. "The Muscle Shoals studio was like a factory at that time, and it had incredible players: Roger Hawkins on drums, David Hood on bass, Barry Beckett on keys, and Jimmy Johnson on guitar. Mavis was the only member of the Staples to attend those initial sessions, laying down guide vocals surrounded by windowed baffles that allowed her to see the other musicians. You see, the Muscle Shoals guys had their own thing going really well, so there was no point for anybody coming in there — even if it was an Aretha Franklin or Rolling Stones session — to impose on them and say 'Hey, here's how I want it recorded!' You went there for what they did, and that's why we went there. As great as they were, Al wanted to get away from the Stax players, and that's because we were looking for a different feel and different types of things going on."

The Learning Experience
Once Ardent Studios had moved out of John Fry's home into a rental space on National Street, Memphis, it virtually became the 'B' studio for Stax Records and artists such as Isaac Hayes, Booker T & the MGs and the Staple Singers, in addition to others like James Taylor and Ike & Tina Turner.


Photo: Terry Manning

"One reason they recorded at Ardent was because it was by far the most technically advanced studio in the area," Terry Manning explains. "We had the first four-track recorders, the first 16-track recorders, the first 24-track recorders, the first of everything. We would jump ahead of the technology and stay at the level of what the biggest studios were doing in other cities. What's more, there was an incredible musician base in Memphis: Isaac Hayes, Booker T, Steve Cropper, Teenie Hodges, the Memphis Horns. People wanted that sound, and when they also wanted the best technology we got those gigs. Well, that gave me quite a grounding early on when it came to working with all styles of music, while also dealing with plenty of local jingle work taught me to do it fast.
"At the age of 16 and 17 years old, I was thrust into sessions with 60 to 80 musicians: strings, a horn section, the great drummer Ronnie Tutt, percussionists, two guitars, bass, three keyboards, marimbas, you name it.

It was a full studio, and they were doing 10- to 30-second songs, so there wasn't much time for me to mess around getting a sound. Fortunately, having done quite a bit of studying and learning, John Fry was quite the technician and the teacher, teaching me and others what propagated an audio wave, what it looked like, what it sounded like, where it went, what type of microphone captured that wave, where that microphone should be placed for optimum use, what components made up the console... this was all thrust on me very early on. 'You've got to learn this now. You've got 80 musicians, they're ready to play, they're being paid by the hour and we're gonna do 20 songs in this three-hour period, so get it down.'

"It was a training that has served me well through all the years that I've done this, and I always like to give the real credit to the musicians and the singers, because if you don't have something good to record, there's no point in recording. We were so lucky at that time to have absolutely incredible talent around us, whether it was Otis Redding, Isaac Hayes, Booker T & the MGs or the Staple Singers. I mean, three of the first drummers I ever worked with were Al Jackson, Jr, the Stax session player; John Bonham; and Ronnie Tutt, who played for Elvis Presley. To me, getting drum sounds was easy... Little did I know that years and years and years would follow with rarely having that calibre of drummer available!"

Muscling Down

Having founded Muscle Shoals Sound Studios in 1969, and with the help of legendary producer/A&R man Jerry Wexler, the aforementioned white quartet of Hawkins, Hood, Becket and Johnson moved the studio into a former casket warehouse they called the Burlap Palace. And it was there, inside a basic control room with a 16-input Flickinger console and MCI JH16 tape machine, that Manning looked through the glass towards a wood-floored live area above a basement where the caskets used to be stored.

"The fact that it wasn't solid provided the room with a little bit of a thump and a ring," he says. "Roger Hawkins's drums were inside a booth that they had just built at that time, and it was very tight in there, so we were really into close-miking drums and there were no room mics at all. The overheads back then would have been Neumann U87s, placed on either side of the cymbals; on the snare and toms there would have been dynamic mics, either Electrovoice RE15s or Shure 545Ss — the 545S looked like an early 57. An RE20 was on the bass drum, and there was a Neumann KM84 on the hi-hat.


Photo: Terry Manning
The control room at Ardent Studios, based around a Spectrasonics console and 3M tape machine.

"Barry Beckett's electric piano was a Wurlitzer, and there was an RE15 actually miking the speaker, while David Hood's bass went through a passive direct box. Nothing fancy at all. Very rarely did we use an amp to record the bass. David's bass solo on 'I'll Take You There' was recorded live at Muscle Shoals; a great, great part. Eddie Hinton played guitar on the song, and he had a small Fender amp, miked with an 87 positioned directly on the 12-inch speaker, and there was also the guitarist Raymond Banks who came down from Stax — we'd joke because Raymond would play almost nothing. He'd be on the session playing just four or five notes, and we'd look over and say 'The guy's not playing.' Then we'd listen back to the song and go 'Wow, those were the notes to play.' He was the minimalist. It was all about feel.

"Mavis, meanwhile, was also miked with an 87 — I tell you, we used those for everything — and she was just the incredible diplomat and party person. What a personality. She'd pal around with everybody and have so much fun, putting everyone at ease, that everyone wanted to play for her. In fact, on 'I'll Take You There' you can hear her talking to the musicians. In the middle part, she's actually calling their names out when they play different things — that's live from her guide vocal on the tracking sessions. She was so into it and had such a rapport with the musicians, and that's one of the things that made those sessions so great. There was a tremendous feel because everyone was really having fun."

All of the rhythm tracks for the album were recorded at Muscle Shoals within four to five days, and consisted of complete takes without edits. Indeed, no more than five takes were required for each song, with the results successfully realising Al Bell and Terry Manning's aim of creating a sound that was, to their minds, distinct from that of Stax.

"The Stax sound, as we perceived it back then, was pretty much straight ahead R&B," Manning explains. "It probably featured the greatest players to ever perform that style of music — Booker T & the MGs playing the rhythm, the Memphis Horns playing the horn parts — and it was wonderful and instantly recognisable. Well, Al and I maybe fooled ourselves a bit when we thought that the sound we created at Muscle Shoals was different — listening now, it's actually far more similar than it is different — but we wanted to go for more of an open sound, more of a rock sound, more of other ethnic musical sounds mixed in with the traditional 'Memphis Sound'. That's why we used the Muscle Shoals musicians, who were playing on records by Bob Seger and the Rolling Stones."

Before The 1176
Once work had been completed at Muscle Shoals, the project reverted to Ardent, where Al Bell turned Terry Manning loose to add his contributions on guitar and keyboards. "Obviously, although none of my parts matched the virtuosity of people I respected and admired like Jimmy Page and Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck, I tried to capture their essence by using overdriven and distorted guitar effects, blending them with horns and generally trying to use a lot of production techniques in a more sophisticated way than just straight-ahead R&B."


Photo: William Eggleston

Terry Manning, in a photo taken on a miniature Minox 'spy camera' around 1972.
At Ardent, the control room housed a 16-input Spectrasonics console, a 3M M56 16-track tape machine and JBL monitors. "The Spectrasonics board had a really good sound," Manning says. "It was very direct and the sound of the mic pres and the signal path was really, really clean and excellent. The tape machine was the second 3M 16 ever made — it was brought in for the mix of theLed Zeppelin III album — and we used it for many years. It was awesome.

"The effects we had back then were quite simple, but the thing that I really liked and used on almost everything was a Universal Audio 176 limiter. This was the valve precursor to the 1176, and I still have one today and have created my own brand of tube limiters somewhat based on that. To me, Bill Putnam's 176 was one of the defining sounds of music — a great, great piece of equipment — so we used that and we also had outboard equalisers. We had some Pultecs, we had some Langevins, and I'd usually patch in one of those when we went to EQ as the Spectrasonics in-board EQ was good and usable but not terribly powerful.

"In terms of delays, I would use the tape machine and either delay something once with that, use varispeed if I wanted to change the delay time, or bring it back into the mix for feedback, while for reverb I used an EMT 140 plate for virtually everything. Stax had echo chambers that were quite interesting-sounding — good for some things, not for others — but the EMT 140 was pristine, and I used that a lot."

Invisible Mending
Once the sessions for the album had moved to Ardent, Mavis Staples laid down her lead vocal parts, Manning compiling a performance from three or four takes of each song.

"People look back on those times and say 'Oh, it's classic, things weren't manipulated,' but I will admit I was certainly comping the vocals," Manning states. "The reason I didn't comp the rhythm track was because, not only were the musicians so good, but cutting two-inch tape also wasn't the most fun thing to do and you could easily hear a splice if you weren't very careful. Additionally, after you'd edited the multitrack, everything else you recorded was going over that splice. On the other hand, once we had a good, solid master take of the rhythm track, comping the vocals didn't require splicing with a razor blade. It was just a case of choosing the part and punching it in, dubbing it down. I didn't get microscopic and work on every syllable like people do today in the digital world, but if there was a better line or half-line from a different take I would certainly use that.

"I recorded Mavis with an 87 going through the UA 176, standing out in the middle of the floor with some tall baffles behind her to minimise the big room a little bit. Since it wasn't a terribly live room, this worked quite well, and I actually interspersed the overdubbed vocals with bits of the guide track. Mavis was so spontaneous and she did so many things right off the cuff, it was hard to discard them, so some of that vocal on 'I'll Take You There' — as well as on the other songs — was taken from the guide track.

"Once I had a comp of Mavis, she and the rest of the Staples recorded the response vocals, and we also doubled the harmonies to thicken the backing track underneath everything. For those harmonies, they would be grouped around one 87 — if it was a small enough group I would have it in cardioid and have them out in front, whereas on other occasions I would do a figure-eight and have them facing each other. They were so talented, I couldn't mess up. It was just a matter of getting a good level and not over-limiting."

Beyond The Memphis Sound
Terry Manning did not only engineer albums such as Be Altitude: he would also play numerous instrumental parts, most of them overdubbed onto the basic tracking sessions after the fact.

"Al [Bell] would give me the general concept," Manning recalls. "He would say 'I really want something layered. I want something more. I don't want just three pieces. I want little things that come in and out. I want texture.' That's what he wanted on all of these songs; texture. He thought he was creating an R&B classic, and he was, so he was looking for textural things, and it was with these guidelines in mind that I'd experiment with different sounds. I was quite lucky to have a studio full of great equipment and great instruments, and to be left alone to use them.

"I had all sorts of instruments at my disposal — I had Mellotrons and vibraphones and marimbas and every kind of guitar and every kind of amp. Al would say 'Look, take some of these things and see what you get,' and he would just leave. I'd stay there all night, all by myself, locked in the studio, and I'd just experiment, trying things and arranging things, adding strings to a song with the Mellotron or creating synth sounds with a Moog IIIC. I'd come up with all sorts of ideas, and most of the time Al would come in the next day, listen to them and say 'Yeah, I like that. Use it.' Occasionally, he'd say 'Nah, that doesn't fit,' but he'd approve of about 80 percent of things and say 'Yeah, let's go with that.'

"So, I was just working, working, working on overdubs for any one song, and on 'I'll Take You There' we added four, five, maybe six instruments, often just mixed in for tiny little pieces that would pop in and pop back out. For example, I would sometimes use a very, very high, tinkly little Moog synthesizer sound, injecting it into certain places to try to mentally capture people. If young kids heard that, they might be attracted to it and get drawn into the rest of the song. And that's what we were trying to do: psychologically manipulate the listener with production techniques. That wasn't the overall thrust and concept at other R&B places like Stax back then, who were trying to capture the listener by way of incredible virtuosity and a strict groove and very simple production.

"A song like 'I'll Take You There' has become so ingrained in the consciousness of those who have heard it, it's hard to now say which, if any, sounds shouldn't be there. Of course, some of the synthesizer sounds got so over-used later on that they started to sound somewhat trite and were passed over for other things, but at the time of the Be Altitude album they were brand-new and no one had done things this way before."
"On 'I'll Take You There', after the vocals had been recorded, I remember playing quite a bit of guitar, some of it distorted, and adding my simulated version of lead towards the end of the song with a Fender Telecaster on which I had put a humbucking pickup. I miked that with a Shure SM57 and used an early Gibson Fuzz-Tone box, playing in the control room with a long speaker lead running out to a Fender Bassman amp... That's now a well known guitar because I later sold it to a guy named Michael Toles of the Bar-Kays and he used it on 'Shaft'.

"I did a few little instrumental things, experimental things, and saved some of those for the very end, and then we brought in the Memphis Horns: specifically, Wayne Jackson and Andrew Love, the two guys who have always been in the group and copyrighted the name, as well as several other players. On that session we had two trumpets, two saxes, a baritone sax and a trombone as well. They were recorded in the main room at Ardent, again without much baffling, the trumpets miked together with a KM84, the saxes with an 87, the baritone with an 87 and the trombone with a KM86.

"The Memphis Horns make up most of their own parts on the spur of the moment. That's their MO. They come in, they listen to a song, they quickly get a part in their heads — something that jumps at them, because they're so used to doing it — and they then build around that. They were doing that in the early days, too, unless they were working with Otis Redding, who would hum them the horn parts. However, on 'Respect Yourself' I did have a horn line in my mind, so I demoed the part with the Moog IIIC near the end, and I also played it on guitar in a spot or two, and then when the Horns came in I had them copy that line at the end. Later on, however, Al Bell said 'Look, I'm so used to hearing the synth, can't we keep it, too?' So, I had the synth starting the line and then the horns pick it up before I also pick it up on guitar later."

As for 'I'll Take You There', a number largely built around just two chords, there were a few other additions on the part of Terry Manning: a harmonica and several guitar parts that he recorded late at night and then submitted to Al Bell the following day. "Doing things like that took time and took a lot of thinking, but I just loved the whole mix, with the great playing by the rhythm guys, the horns that were so cool, and all of the different types of sound blending together."

Getting Away From It All
Terry Manning mixed at Ardent using a Scully 280 quarter-inch machine, at a rate of about two songs a day. "A lot was left to the mix," he says. "I rarely mix as I go along. Every time I go to a mix, I turn my brain around in a completely different way and build the mix piece by piece, usually starting with the bass and drums, and then bringing things in gradually before I start soloing things."


Photo: Patrick Cromwell

Terry Manning now runs the renowned Compass Point Studios in the Bahamas.
In total, the Be Altitude album took about six weeks to record, and it was a joyous experience for Terry Manning, who remained at Stax until its closure in 1975 and then spent the next 17 years dividing his time between London and Memphis, since when he has run Compass Point Studios in the Bahamas with his wife Sherrie.

"I cannot stress enough how much fun it was to work with the Staples," he declares. "They just loved life, they had a great time, there was a lot of laughter and excitement during so many sessions, and while we knew it was a business and we were in there for a purpose, at that time we didn't think so much about budgets or about schedules. We just tried to do things as best as we could, the Staples came into the studio to enjoy themselves, and that made things so easy."

Bell and Manning's attempts to get away from the 'Memphis Sound' initially met with mixed responses. When co-writer Sir Mack Rice (who also wrote 'Mustang Sally') first heard 'Respect Yourself', he said "You've ruined my song!" — but he revised this attitude after the recording hit the Top 20.

"'Respect Yourself' prompted some funny reactions," recalls Terry Manning. "When 'Pops' Staples first heard the mix, he said, 'Oh, it's horrible. My voice is so low and the band is so high. All I'm hearing is music.' It was different to how people expected it to be. We've now grown used to it, and it does sound right... at least, I hope it does."

 

Ramsey

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Ramsey
The clocks will all run backwards
All the sheep will have two heads
And Thursday night and Friday
Will be on Tuesday night instead
And all lthe times will keep on changing
And the movement will increase
There's something about the living babe
That sends me off my feet
There's breeding in the sewers
And the rats are on their way
They're clouding up the images of perfect day