Producing Country. Michael Jarrett

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СКАЧАТЬ relationship between song and score was reconceptualized, as was Hollywood’s relationship to the recording industry. The notion that a soundtrack could be a collection of pre-existing (already recorded) pop tunes began with “High Noon.”

TEX RITTER, “HIGH NOON (DO NOT FORSAKE ME)” (1952), HIGH NOON (BEAR FAMILY)

       KEN NELSON

      The first artist on Capitol Records was Tex Ritter [1942]. His first record was produced by Johnny Mercer, one of the founders of Capitol and a great songwriter.

      I hadn’t heard the soundtrack from the movie [High Noon], but I made the record. Lee [Gillette] heard it. He said, “Hey, you darn fool, you forgot the drums!”

      I said, “What drums?” Lee was a drummer, and so we went in and overdubbed the drums on “High Noon.” Overdubbing was pretty difficult at that time. I don’t think there was tape, but I’m not positive. We did it from the acetate. It worked out. Of course, we had great engineers. We had John Palladino and Hugh Davies. Palladino was tops as far as an engineer—a mixer—was concerned.

      I was there to get the best I could out of the artist. I believe that the emotion in a record is the important thing. It was my job to see that everything was under control and to listen to the sound. My main job was to listen for mistakes, listen for the balance. Microphone placement at that time was a lot different than it is today when everybody’s got a microphone. We had microphones on the fiddle and on the steel [guitar] and on the piano, but the engineer would regulate it according to the sound. We didn’t let anything overshadow anything else. We tried to blend them.

      That’s one of the problems with today’s music. Musicians are listening to themselves and not to the artist. They’re not listening as a group. I always said, “I want to hear every damn word.” That was my philosophy. Today, they make musical tracks, and then the singer sings to it. And that’s another thing that’s wrong. There’s no way that you can get the feel and the emotion. Then, of course, we didn’t have charts most of the time. I’d write down where the fill-ins were to come in, like if the steel was to come in. Then I’d have this list of the fills, and I’d sit beside the engineer and tell him what was coming up.

      I’d get with the art department. I had to approve pictures and liner notes. Sometimes I’d write them myself. Then I had to okay the record. I mean, after we recorded it, and it was put on a disc, I’d have to okay it—the sound and whether it was equalized correctly. That was all the job of the producer in the early days.

KITTY WELLS, “IT WASN’T GOD WHO MADE HONKY TONK ANGELS” (1952), THE KITTY WELLS STORY (MCA)

       HAROLD BRADLEY

      Paul Cohen came down here [to Nashville to supervise sessions for Decca Records] because it was cheaper to send down one man than it was to take Red Foley and his band—to pay for their transportation, their lodging, and their meals—to Cincinnati or to New York. It was cheaper for one man to come down. He’d stay for a month and record everybody in sight [notably, Kitty Wells, Webb Pierce, Ernest Tubb, and Red Foley]. It was kind of like what I call the shotgun approach. You’re going to hit something, if you’ve got a wide enough shotgun. When he left Decca and started Todd Records, he didn’t have the luxury of doing that. That’s why he didn’t have any real success at Todd. He could only do artists one at a time. Your odds weren’t that good. Before, he recorded for a whole month. We [the session players] would be tied up for a whole month. We learned that Paul was really a good song man. He had no real musical talent, but he had a commercial ear for a song. If you sang a song to him and it struck his ear—he liked it—then, usually, he was right.

ELVIS PRESLEY, “THAT’S ALL RIGHT” (1954), SUNRISE (RCA)

       ROLAND JANES

      We generally worked on things until we got them pretty much right. That was one of the genius things about Sam Phillips. He was not afraid to take a song that wasn’t perfect in some detail and release it, as long as it had a good, overall feel to it. For example, on Elvis Presley’s record “That’s All Right,” in the middle he forgot the words. He goes into that “ah da-da de-de-de-de-de.” That wasn’t planned. That’s just the way it was. But then, that particular take had the right feel, and Sam was not afraid to leave that in there like that. Most producers wouldn’t have done that. They would’ve been scared to death. But Sam said, “No, that’s the cut I want—the one with the right feel.” That was what was most important to him. If the cut made you want to tap your foot or sing along, and the other cut—maybe it was a good cut—did not have that feel, then he would take the first one, even though it had one or two minor mistakes in it. I admired him for that.

THE LOUVIN BROTHERS, “WHEN I STOP DREAMING” (1955), WHEN I STOP DREAMING: THE BEST OF THE LOUVIN BROTHERS (ORIGINAL RECORDINGS, 1952–1962, CAPITOL; COMPILATION, 1995, RAZOR & TIE)

       MARSHALL CRENSHAW

      Some of those Louvin Brothers records are gorgeous in terms of sound, but some of the tracks that I didn’t put on the compilation, like a few of the early gospel tracks, had this funny echo effect on certain chorus lines, used to create interest. There’s one called “Pitfall” that’s pretty gimmicky. And so, Capitol was a little bit into occasional gimmicky production effects. But not too much. I’ve said Ken Nelson was a purist type of producer, but he sometimes wasn’t.

      A couple of other tracks on the CD are from a Delmore Brothers tribute album that the Louvin’s did. They’re really simple recordings, but they’re perfectly rendered and beautiful. Part of it has to do with the instruments. On those tunes, Ira Louvin is playing a Martin tenor guitar that belonged to one of the Delmore Brothers. It’s a guitar with just the top four strings. Those Martin guitars from back then are delicate sounding. They have this nice top end.

       KEN NELSON

      Ira was more of a temperamental man, and Charlie was easygoing. Ira would get mad sometimes at Charlie—bawl him out once in a while—but never anything serious. Charlie, I guess, was just used to it. They were very easy to record. Whatever I said went. I was grateful for that.

      Wesley Rose came to me and asked me to sign them. They were with Acuff-Rose [Publishing].

      I said, “Great, I’ll take them.” Of course, I wouldn’t have taken them if I didn’t think they had some talent, but they were a fine team. Ira was a heck of a good writer.

      Also, Wesley asked me to sign Roy Acuff. I did. But at that time, Capitol wasn’t too hot on country stuff. It was called “hillbilly.” I couldn’t get any publicity from the sales or promotion department on Roy. He had a pure country sound. Anyway, I put out I don’t know how many records but couldn’t get off the ground. I made an album with him.

      Finally, Wes came to me and said, “Ken, Roy just isn’t happy. He isn’t making it on Capitol. Would you release him?”

      “Okay,” I said. So I released him [from his contract]. And then, I had put this album out, and the darn album started to sell like crazy. One day, I was in with the СКАЧАТЬ