Who Moved My Cheese Metal?

The Who’s recent performance at the “Really Big Game Halftime Show” (please don’t sue me…) pointed out more than a few absurdities. I don’t know about the rest of you folks, but I am nearly always appalled at how crappy the sound at the “SB” is. I have a similar problem with American Idol. (Don’t sue me either… please.)

Somehow, with all the money in the world and access to more extremely expensive equipment then you could fit in my back yard, the sound is routinely awful. A constant A.I. problem is feedback, microphones being left off for some or most of people’s conversations, bad monitor feeds or no monitors feeds. I am constantly amazed at how roughshod it is.

For this “SB,” Queen Latifah, Carrie Underwood and The Who all had very obvious monitor problems. Queen Latifah actually removed hers early in the performance. What’s up with that? There is a particular irony in The Who having such difficulties with monitors, especially at such a major event.

Here’s The Who. Pay attention to the song transitions and the vocals at times.

“Why is that, Pete?” I hear you all asking.

Well, they can’t hear themselves. Now that certainly is a problem The Who have faced more than a few times over the years.

Let’s go back to the sixties, when rock and roll was first being played to large audiences at sports stadiums. The first band to do that would be the Beatles, of course. When they played their last stadium show, they were using custom made Vox “Super Beatle” amps, putting out a whopping 120 watts of power. That’s right, 120 watts. Practically any car or truck stereo you can buy these days would blow these things away. Can you imagine lining up four brand new Volkswagen Beetles near home plate at Candlestick Park, opening the doors and windows and cranking the stereos to play music for 40,000 of your closest friends?

The Who came up with one solution. Amplifier stacks. In other words, take as many amps as you can buy, rent or steal and stack them all up into a wall of sounds.

Here’s a cool picture site: Whiskey Man

You can see from the Whiskey Man pictures how they would just throw more and more stuff up, making bigger and bigger stacks of amps to fill the venue. A few years after this, it reached a point where the performers would be dwarfed by these walls of amplifiers blazing away and the only people that could actually hear anything clearly were those in the audience, so the shows suffered from this performance disconnect. It’s hard to play well when you can’t hear yourself, or the drummer…

What to do about it? Well a young engineer who had been with The Who for a few years came up with a novel solution that is still the most common way performers hear themselves while on stage. The floor monitor. Usually referred to as a “wedge” because originally the sound engineer would take a standard speaker cabinet and cut the bottom at an angle to have the speaker point at the performer.

That engineer is named Bob Pridden. He has worked for The Who for over forty years and has been one of the most influential and talented engineers in music history. His idea of floor monitors was the first and most important step in the art of modern live sound reproduction. For the first time you could take most of the speakers and place them to the side of the stage and up on the towers we all know and love while keeping an amp or two on stage for the performer to use and, most importantly, keep the on stage sound level at a much more friendly and manageable level. This improves the quality of the performance and helps protect the musicians’ and audience’s hearing by keeping better control of the overall sound level.

Over the last twenty years or so, the venerable floor monitor has begun to give way to the “in-ear” monitors used by all the “SB” performers. They do work very well in most cases, but it has introduced a new problem in that the monitor engineer has a very difficult time hearing what the performer is hearing. The only way I have been able to solve that one is to have an “in-ear” setup for me to use while mixing the band. But that’s iyet another problem, as you need to be able to receive all the radio channels the performers are using. If there are four mixes, it’s not really that big of a deal. If there are ten or fifteen? That’s a lot of extra stuff to carry around.

All of you Who fans and anyone who enjoys live concert performances, give a thanks to Bob Pridden. The father of modern sound reproduction.

How about an MTV trivia question?

What was the first video aired on MTV? 

Why is this important? Well, quite honestly it’s not to most of the known universe. To me, yes it is important but not because I love the song or anything. It’s kind of fun in a very silly, superficial way. The video is pretty bad but at least it gets it’s message across and it was an accurate prediction of the music industry throughout the eighties and beyond. So, why do I care?

The goofy looking lead singer with the goofier glasses is none other than Trevor Horn. (I can hear the collective yawn…) Well, not so fast there.

Horn and the uncomfortable looking blond keyboard player, Geoff Downes shortly went on to join Yes. Yes, that Yes. They only recorded one album together as fans didn’t really settle into Horn’s vocals as the replacement for Jon Anderson, it did however have one very long term success story as a result.

Trevor Horn became a producer. One of his first acts was ABC and their the Lexicon Of Love album from 1982.

Horn would also produce Yes’ smash hit comeback album, 90125.

Horn would go on to produce Seal’s first three albums and Geoff Downes would join with Steve Howe from Yes to form the super group Asia for a multi-album run.

Not a bad result from a new wave one hit wonder video.

A few months back on American Idol, eventual runner up Adam Lambert sang a somewhat controversial version of the Johnny Cash classic “Ring Of Fire.”

I have no intention of getting too deep into American Idol. I am however, interested in how certain songs seem to have little or no difficulty crossing from one genre of music into another and sometimes back again in forms that could not have been contemplated when the song was written.

“Ring Of Fire” is one of these songs. I did a quick search on Napster and it came up with 313 versions. Yes, some of them are duplicates but what is really striking is how many bands and artists from all types of music have tried their hand at the song.

Johnny’s classic version from a 1963 TV broadcast.

“Ring Of Fire” was written by June Carter and Merle Kilgore and was originally recorded by her sister Anita Carter. When her version failed to become a hit, Cash recorded his.

Starting with Johnny Cash, the song takes on a new and sometimes surprising life of it’s own.

“Ring Of Fire” was covered by Kitty Wells, Dave Dudley and Lynn Anderson within a few years of Cash but it was also moving into pop and rock with Tom Jones and Eric Burdon recording versions in the sixties.

In 1970 Ray Charles recorded his brilliant soul version. It’s so far from where Cash started that if it came on the radio without being announced, you might not know it was the same song until he gets to the chorus.

Olivia Newton John did a sugary and kind of painful version. ONJ’s version is just so “nice” that there is no passion in it at all. (Cheese Country…)

By 1980 new wave band Blondie put their version out there. Someone should have put it back.

“Mexican Radio” one hit wonder, Wall Of Voodoo was the next pop/rock perpetrator with a highly electronic version that while strange does get the idea across better than Olivia or Blondie.

In 1990 Social Distortion had a hit with their punk rock cover while Grace Jones took the song on vacation to Jamaica with a rambling punk/reggae concoction. More recently Allison Moorer recorded her alternative country take on “Fire.”

There are so many versions from so many styles over the 45 year life of this song that it really would require a book length article to tell the complete story.

It’s facinating and wonderful how a song travels through the world.

And sometimes, those touched by it’s words create something new.

Back on Earth Day 1990, I was working at Cherokee Studios on Fairfax in Los Angeles shooting a video for Carmine Appice’s  Realistic Rock Drum Method video series. We had the place to ourselves, which was good as we had a huge amount of crap to bring in and set up.

Recording studios were not designed to shoot video back then so we were running cables, setting up gobos and reflectors and lots of other things as well as cameras, lights, monitors, Carmine’s drum set and a really neat set of neon drumsticks. (They had a power supply the size of a twelve pack with cables attached to the sticks. Wild!)

As we are all working, the lighting guy shows up. Really cool guy.

He was just back from Japan, having been on tour with Joe Walsh and Foreigner as a dual headliner show at Budokan. (That means one night Joe played last and the next night, Foreigner.)

After the usual bantering, complaining and sweating (note: artists only sweat onstage. Techies sweat all the time. It’s in the contract), we are standing around smoking in the control room (yes, you could do that back then), talking about the biz.

A pretty funny term came up when German, the producer (pronounced “Herman,” he’s Argentinian), came up and gave us a round of complaints from the this is not that and the that is too small for the whatever it is that should be over there instead of over here and we’ll all be fired if we don’t fix it now speech.

One of the engineers, Marco, said, “He’s pulling a Perry again…”

Being new to this bunch of guys, I asked.

“You know? Steve Perry? He’s an a——.” 

I still get a chuckle out of that.

Anyway, back to Budokan.

The lighting guy related how the last show with Joe and Foreigner had gone.

Really great performances, as should be expected, but being the end of the run and everyone getting beat and wanting to head home for a while, things started to get strange.

With Joe being the opener that night, Lou Gramm and Mick Jones headed down to the pit in front of the stage to razz Joe and the band. Having some good fun trying to distract them and generally just goofing around; being on the road for a while you just want to mess around.

After Joe’s set, it’s Foreigner’s turn onstage. Being 1990, Foreigner is still riding “I Want To Know What Love Is.”

A big part of the show.

They start out with the lights low and Lou in the spotlight. Very dramatic and powerful. When it’s time for the chorus, they pull the curtain back from behind the drummer and there is a huge choir to join in with Lou and the guys.

About the same time the audience starts hearing a loud series of “bang-bang-bang-bang.”

They get louder and louder and seem to be coming from the sides of the arena getting closer to the stage. “Bang-bang-bang-bang.” Then more of a “bang, bang-bang, bang-bang, bang.

The crowd and band don’t know what is happening. Foreigner is keeping it together but just barely…

Joe Walsh and Rick the Bass Player come slamming onstage…

On pogo-sticks from the wings.

Don’t mess with Joe.

He’s really good at this stuff!

Having been a big Deep Purple fan from way back, it wasn’t much of a stretch for me to jump in the pool for a swim around some loud guitars, big drums, thumping bass and delightfully overblown keyboards with a really small guy with a really big voice demanding to be heard.

Rainbow, of course.

Rainbow was the follow on band after Deep Purple imploded for one of perhaps too many times to count. This incarnation had Ritchie Blackmore on guitars (duh), Jimmy Bain on bass, Cozy Powell on drums and the little dynamo, Ronnie James Dio as your evil magical wizard elf lead singer. The keyboards were provided by Tony Carey.

Tony who? (I hear you thinking.)

Yep, Tony Carey.

In 1984 he released his second solo album, with vocals, having released several instrumental albums prior to this as well as being practically all of the band Planet P. The lone single from Some Tough City was a really cool track called “It’s a Fine, Fine Day.”

It’s one of those story songs that can either be a masterpiece or a real piece of, well…

I loved this song from the first time I ever heard it. I don’t think anybody I have ever played this song for liked it.

Tough crowd…

(I wish the video and sound were better, but there you go.)

The take on the subject is rather interesting for a rock song. Love, loss and redemption are staples of most popular music. Usually involving the breakup of love affairs or the more enjoyable starting, or wanting to start, love affairs.

The loss of an uncle who was a convicted mob figure, but a nice guy to his nephew just does not come up a lot in music.

Why do I love this ‘Hammond organ’ infested bit of cheese?

The vocal is quite emotional without going over the top. The lyrics tell a story that is interesting and novel for pop/rock songs. “Sonny” has paid his dues to the “Fed” but not to his “employers.” (Some mob euphemisms there.)

Tony’s subject matter in quite a few of his songs is a bit out there as this Planet P song can attest to.

“Why Me” was an early MTV staple. Tony was almost the whole band on this song as well as the songwriter. Inspired no doubt by Bowie’s “Space Oddity” and perhaps by Peter Schilling’s “Major Tom (Coming Home).” Either way, he has a very unique way of looking at things and writing about them.

If I can get one more person to actually enjoy “It’s a Fine, Fine Day,” my job for today is done. I will sleep well knowing that Tony’s legacy is secure.

1982. The Big “A” in Anaheim California. ( Now known as Edison-Disneyland-Second stadium in L.A. but not really in L.A. just kind of nearby in another county, and city.) It was a typically blazing hot July Saturday afternoon.

About sixty thousand of us showed up for what was billed as the “Summer Strut.”

KLOS on the radio in my 69′ GTO, no air conditioning. I removed it so it would go faster. Yeah, well, I was twenty years old and you do things like that. Me and my, (hot, literally,)  girlfriend got there nice and early. In those days Anahiem was close to the end of the planet for driving to.

The usual parking fiasco, scalper run, beer line and to the seats.

The line-up was: Iron Maiden, the Scorpions, Loverboy with Foreigner as the headliner.

To this day I believe that the Orange County Sheriff Department brought in every six foot ten, three hundred pound deputy from all parts of the country that they could find for security. At one point during the show I noticed a fight down on the field. A line of green uniforms snaked through the crowd to the spot and the guy was up in the air on their shoulders and out of sight in seconds.

Impressive.

Iron Maiden was pretty new to the scene. Loved them from the first time I heard them. They nearly torn the place down.

The Scopions were riding the success of “No One Like You” at the time. I was turned on to them a few years earlier by a band mate of mine. We were playing  our cover of “In Trance” when we seemed to be the only people we knew who knew who the Scorpions were. Pretty funny by 1982.

They had the place going mad. Scary mad. We were on the second level. It was swaying up and down as the band was playing onstage. We were getting nervous as we noticed the level above us bouncing up and down several feet like the audience was creating it’s own private earthquake. I wonder if they think about things like this when they build them? Two to three feet up and down. Seriously!

Iron Maiden and the Scorps just had the whole place jumping, swaying, rocking in full measure. Everyone is screaming for Loverboy to come on. They did.

They shouldn’t have.

As I said before there are a few Loverboy songs I kind of like. “When It’s Over,” “Take Me To The Top,” “Turn Me Loose.” It’s kind of thin after that.

They played well.

They just were not the band to follow Maiden and the Scorps. They didn’t have it in them. Mike Reno and his headband looking like he recently escaped from Olivia Newton John’s “Physical” video? This after a ten foot tall zombie named “Eddie” is dancing around the stage with Maiden. Then Rudy Schenker’s blistering guitars and Klaus Meine running all over the place screaming like “Eddie” may have caught him when we were distracted.

Then we get Mike and his headband?

The real victims here were Foreigner. After about two minutes of Loverboy, the crowd was quiet. And somewhat bored.

When Foreigner came out the crowd just was kind of idling. Not sure what to do. Lou Gramm and the band were in top form. The best I had seen them. Nobody cared.

Until…

“Juke Box Hero.”

It’s funny how one song can save the day. I have to give credit to Foreigner. They didn’t give up and they played their best and-they did get the crowd back.

A great performance and even better recovery from what might have been a brutal evening.

Loved it!

As a music nut and working musician, I have (as you may too) the sometimes-annoying tendency to know and even care who played what instrument on a particular track or album. I display this knowledge with smug superiority over those around me.

For some fans of David Bowie, it’s just not that important who the bass player was or who did the cool guitar lead on “Heroes.” (Or the fact that a young and not too well known at the time guitarist named Stevie Ray Vaughan played most of the guitars on his “Let’s Dance” album.)

Nothing wrong with that at all.

I do know that there are other self-appointed guardians of the session players out there. We just don’t talk to each other much, nor do we get out into the real world all that often — unless it’s to go to a concert, or play at one. (Or to the day job most of us have to pay for the music we love.)

Why does it matter?

There are these folks who are so good at what they do that they are called up on the phone, told when to be at the studio and expected to be brilliant and perfect. Every time they play. Or they don’t get the next call.

Steely Dan hired only the best players. Jeff “Skunk” Baxter, Danny Diaz, Larry Carlton, Lee Ritenour, Mark Knopfler and more on guitar. Steve Gadd, Jeff Porcaro, Jim Keltner and Rick Marotta on drums. David Paich, Chuck Rainey and Donald Fagen on piano and keyboards. Walter Becker and a few others on bass.

Fagen and Becker were “Steely Dan.” Those folks listed above, and many more, are the people who made the music with them that you have been listening to for thirty years or more.

Paich and Porcaro went on to found Toto with some other studio musicians they met in the mid-seventies. It was a rare time when some people behind the scenes got the chance to become stars themselves.

Whatever you feel about Toto, those guys and people like them have had a huge impact on popular music as we know it.

You probably know them, but if you don’t, you should.