Blackbird Studio
I won’t say I have stage fright, but if you’re paying me, I want to DELIVER! I’ve got my headphones around my neck, I’m about to fire up some Little Big Town on my iPod, get the adrenaline flowing, and I walk into the green room and THERE THEY ARE!
I don’t think the band gets it. This is a dream. I listened to that damn record over and over again. In Vancouver, when I was deathly sick. Real people weren’t supposed to make that record. Artists aren’t really human, they’re iconic characters that live far from my neighborhood. But HERE THEY ARE! What do you say?
I told them I’d been listening to their new album. And that its third track, "That’s Where I’ll Be", is closer to the classic Eagles sound than anything on "Long Road Out Of Eden". It’s got that "Lyin’ Eyes", "Tequila Sunrise", "Peaceful, Easy Feeling" sound NAILED!
Then they introduced me. By singing a SONG! A CAPPELLA! Which they had to restart, since Karen began it too low. But that’s what I loved most about the whole thing, this moment of imperfection. Our imperfections make us lovable. They evidence our humanity.
And after my speech, I got into a conversation with Troy Blakely. About Boston. I told him how "More Than A Feeling" might have been the hit, but I couldn’t get enough of "Foreplay/Long Time" and "Hitch A Ride" is one of my top five iTunes tracks EVER! I sing it to myself EVERY DAY!
And I’m listening to "Hitch A Ride" on my PowerBook right now, to extend the euphoria. Of my adventure with John McBride to his Blackbird Studio.
Everybody in New York and L.A. is slick. They’ll point to their C.V., where they came from. John McBride came from Kansas. And with his new love in tow, arrived in Nashville to make it in the music business. He started off working for Garth Brooks, but eventually his wife Martina got a deal with RCA, and the rest is history.
Well, not completely. Johnny MacB was restless. He needed to be even closer to the music. He needed to own a STUDIO!
So he took everything he and Martina had, all their savings, in excess of eight figures, borrowed an equal amount, and built an EMPIRE! A meandering haven on a street in the Berry, a few miles from downtown, where the endless cracker box houses all contain studios.
He named it after the Beatles song. And there’s Beatle memorabilia strewn throughout. Like a blow-up of the NME cover wherein they won the poll for band of the year, with PETE BEST ON DRUMS!
John said he had eight million in vintage gear. He showed me this Neumann mic. Not the U47, something weirder, and older. A giant tube, with a little lollipop on top. He’d cornered the market. He’d just sold one to Sheryl Crow.
And then a storage room with shelf after shelf of legendary outboard gear. The kind you used to see in studios in the seventies, before everything went digital, and everybody started working in their home.
John would rather have them working at his place. In one of his $500 a day Pro Tools suites. But the big draw is the big rooms. Like the one Jimmy Buffett was working in today.
First, we ran into Mac McAnally in the hallway. I told him how I’d been trying for years to steal the unavailable on CD title track from his early eighties Geffen album, "Nothin’ But The Truth". I even sang him a line, "On the night of the last election…" John Kalodner sent the vinyl. I’ve got it on cassette. But I need a file.
And then, in the big room we found Tony Brown and Mr. Buffett himself. Recording a singer Jimmy had discovered in Africa.
And after bullshitting with the boys, we went into the endless supply of recording rooms attached to this ONE STUDIO! A room with a vaulted ceiling, and panel walls that could be changed from reflecting to absorbing, from wood to carpet. And in the corner, an echo chamber/reverb room with a ceiling that you raised with the push of a button, for different effects, for different delay.
Then there were the vintage guitars on every wall. John said he wanted the musicians to just pull ’em down and pick ’em.
Then, after walking past the ping-pong table requested by the Raconteurs, Tony’s AMG MBZ and the wall the Kings Of Leon played handball on, we got to another giant studio. With this special wood, of all different depths. To insure a clean sound. Kind of like the two transformers and endless electrical gear making sure the power is clean.
Then we went into George Massenburg’s room. Yes, George has an office at Blackbird. And he commissioned this room. With over a MILLION pieces of wood, ALL of different lengths, to insure NO reflection. For an outside feel. And, John sat me down behind the console and he fired up Queen’s "Night At The Opera" in 5.1. Sure, Freddie Mercury’s vocals were spectacular, but you should have heard Roger Taylor’s DRUMS!
Then it hit me. They’re making state of the art music, but no one’s HEARING IT THIS WAY! We’re listening on two dollar earbuds as they’re making million dollar recordings. And believe me, those recordings sound good. John’s got everything you want. From old Studers to the two and four tracks used on "Sgt. Pepper", never mind state of the art digital stuff. They’re getting it right, but the audience isn’t.
The perfect sound used to be a quest. We bought ridiculously expensive stereo equipment, to get closer to the sound, to try and hear it as the people MADE IT! You’d drop the needle and go inside. Like I felt listening to "The Chain", which I had John fire up on the system. John McVie’s bass? That’s exactly how it sounded LIVE! And Lindsey Buckingham’s guitar…reminded me of seeing Fleetwood Mac at Staples, not that long ago. But MP3s don’t remind me of gigs, they’re too far removed.
It’s like the musicians and the listeners are on two different trajectories. The musicians are using ever-improving sound equipment in a quest for aural nirvana, and we’re arguing over iTunes and iTunes Plus, 128 AACs versus 256. The concept of sitting in front of the stereo and reveling in the output…that’s gone. Don’t blame video games or DVDs, blame a business that had the customer in the palm of its hand, but rather than respecting him, turned him around and fucked him in the ass.
Don’t tell me about licensing Xbox tunes. Put a fifteen year old in Massenburg’s room, listening to "Dark Side Of The Moon", and they’ll forget about the controller. THAT’S the power of music.
Turned out Keith Urban and Garth were not back today. They finished up yesterday. But you could feel the vibes in the walls. This is where it happened. Where Jack White cut his last album. Where creativity erupted. A special place far away from the deafening input of reality, where artistic minds could run free.
As we sat in one of the multiple lounges, drinking Dr. Pepper in Sonic cups with crushed ice from John’s birthday gift machine, I strummed a forty five year old Les Paul and a sixty plus year old D28 as I heard about the status of Martina’s career.
She owes one more record to RCA. Where’s the business gonna be three odd years from now, when she’s ready to record the one after that? Didn’t "BusinessWeek" say country music sales were off almost 30%? Will FM retain a stranglehold on the country audience?
It’s murky out there. No one has the answers. If you don’t get fired, you’re looking for alternatives, you’re ready to get out. You don’t want to end up fifty, broke down and busted on the side of the road, without a career.
But not John McBride. When the business started to go into the toilet, he doubled down. Not to make money, but to live his dream. To be that close to the music.
I was that close to the music today. I could feel it. It was just like living in paradise, and I DON’T WANT TO GO HOME!
