The Killer awoke before noon... This dark man with the vicious fingers and a razor for a tongue arrived with little fanfare. Next to cross the threshold was Nils Lofgren and Ivan Neville, followed by Paul Revere, Kenny Lovelace and then Hutch Hutchinson. By all accounts, the first to arrive was Jim Keltner. He fine tuned his skins and hand drums, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his dear friend and ultimate finger man, Ringo Starr. Introductions were made, as the air of Ocean Way studio B filled with the anticipation of imminent musical bliss. Everyone that day knew it, Jerry Lee Lewis was in good spirits, and in fine form. He hit that piano with the soul of a dozen lifetimes; holding nothing back, laying it all out for everyone to hear. The groove, the pocket was found so quickly because everyone in that room was just so damn good at what they do. I'm on my knee's, chills ripple through me, I'm not even making pictures, I'm just letting it all flow through me. I was on hallowed ground, I knew it; hell, I didn't even belong in that room. Memories, photographs congeal into my blood, and I am lost in the moment, the music, the energy uncorked from a bottle that only The Killer could open.
Below is but a small portfolio, a reflection of the time that I have shared with luminaries, both in and outside the studio.
When a song and a lyric come from a place of such emotional depth; when there is only one person in the world who could have sung that song, you know. Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me" is most certainly one of those songs. So utterly moving is it, half the time I hear it, I have to pull the car over, as that song fully inhabits my soul, and I must in many ways surrender to her voice.