My latest play just opened in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Him & Jim is a comedy about what happens when a divine stranger wanders into an unremarkable auto parts shop. My partner-in-crime in this project is director Ara Barlieb. I wrote the play alone, but Ara gave it life, and from what I am hearing he is taking it in directions that I never even imagined. And yet I trust Ara enough to know that whatever he and his talented cast invents, it will make sense with the play. More than make sense: It will make the play a better one.
Brass, winds, percussion – duration for four movements: 41 minutes.
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Stream the music:
Devil’s Tower, Wyo
The Hot Air Balloon
A View of the Mississippi
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Strings, harp, percussion – duration for three movements: 20 minutes.
A lively, rhythmic concert piece featuring Latin American rhythms and a prominent vibraphone part.
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Download the MP3s:
Last week I was lucky enough to do some recording in Los Angeles at the legendary Capitol Studios. Yes, that one! The one in the iconic Hollywood building whose architecture is meant to evoke a stack of 45s.
My singer was late—no big surprise there—and I found myself warming up on the nine-foot grand piano in Studio A. The soundproof door of the studio opened, and an older man with a big smile walked in. “Sounds great,” he said.
“I’m just playing scales,” I replied.
“Hey,” he said kindly, “there are scales, and there are scales.” And then he introduced himself: “Steve Lawrence.” That took a second to register. It was indeed Steve Lawrence of Steve and Eydie. He looked terrific—or should I just say that, at 79, he looked exactly like Steve Lawrence has always looked.
Steve and his wife Eydie Gormé were a part of my show business education in the ’60s and ’70s. Back then, I was in the thrall of a lot of sub-par ’60s rock, so it took me a while to admit how very good Steve and Eydie were. But I finally got there. Eydie was an amazing singer, and Steve was the perfect partner for her, in music and in life. She died last year. They were married for 56 years.
After gushing over how great he looked, I grabbed an opportunity that will only come once. I asked him to sing a song with me. He walked to the piano and said, “Sure, give me a B flat.” I did, and without a pause he began singing “The More I See You.” Luckily, I know that song. And for the next three minutes I was living in a 1962 dreamscape where I was suddenly part of the hippest fraternity on Earth—call it Sigma Alpha Hepcat—made up only of great musicians who know terrific songs and perform them in Studio A or at The Sands in Vegas. It was a fantasy, but for those three minutes, it was also very real. Steve’s voice is still young and strong and perfectly his own. And I really do know that song.
Then it was over. My singer arrived. She had no idea who Steve Lawrence was. I was forced to return to 2014. It was a great moment, though. Thank you, Steve.
For our session, we used one of Capitol’s classic microphones. It was the Neuman U-41 that has the tin Capitol emblem on it. It has been there since 1963. I have pictures of that exact microphone on at least three record covers. The one I like best is from a June Christy album called June’s Got Rhythm. The microphone is a faint drawing at the bottom right. It always seemed to me that only true insiders would know which mic that was. The true insiders are, of course, thousands and thousands of people who have seen pictures of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. singing into that exact same mic.
We also used the famous reverb tank underneath the studio. I later posted on Facebook a picture of the patch bay inputs that tied the vocal track to that analog reverb. One of my favorite responses to that picture was: “Capitol Recording Studios, where it’s always 1962.”