For several weekends I've been happily employed as session player at Westerman’s studio in Webster, NH.; first with Joe Droukas of The Parlour Band--mandolin and accordion, if I remember correctly, for a project of his; then Diane Kordas of the mostly bluegrass band Late Night Radio called me in for some childrens’ music she is recording. We had a lot of laughs, and the music was perfect developmentally for little ones, even if the repetitiveness drove Westerman crazy. The experience reminded me of my first real job, when I was still in school at Sarah Lawrence, playing for Pam Finney’s wonderful childrens’ dance classes in Bronxville.
Then last weekend Brad Parker, a country-ish singer/songwriter who at times sounds a dead ringer for Waylon Jennings, had me lay some piano tracks for an album he’s making. On the first track - kind of a rocking thing- I first tried a driving left hand that reinforced the acoustic guitar, but it didn’t take long to find what he really liked was a little contrast, a light ivory tickling in the upper register. “That’s it! Keep playing that Floyd Cramer thing! I like that!” Brad called from the control room. I couldn’t remember for the life of me who Floyd Cramer was, though I’d heard his name mentioned over the years as a Nashville guy, but evidently I know how to sound like him (of course, I've since looked up his discography, etc). Then a few tunes later, on a B minor ballad, I went for an expressionistic folk/jazz mood, which was enthusiastically received, too. This time Westerman called out from the control room, “George Winston!” Hey, whatever is called for.
I have always had a great time in the studio, though: energized, productive, relaxed – at least when I’m not paying – which I will be next weekend, when I go in to finish mixing some Buskers tunes and add the vocals for Spank That Tambourine. I think I’ve finally learned to keep sessions down to four or five hours, before the ears get too tired.
Next week the Buskers will use up a few hundred dollars of fossil fuels to perform in Glens Falls, New York. Paul and I sometimes drive together, but he has aging parents out that way and plans to stay on and visit, so I’m on my own. Good for songwriting, these long drives. Especially since my iPod died. Kathy tried hard to get a companion gig to make the trip more affordable, but these are hard times. At least they’re putting us up at a hotel. Let’s find some place to busk. We’re headed back to the area later in the Summer, to Saratoga Springs.
