The Old Lands OTS 3.0 :: Topic review - The Making and Demise of The Perfect Recording Par

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Can You Fly was the album that put Freedy Johnston on the map and it set the tone for his future recordings. It was well received and made several critics “Best Of” list that year. Robert Christgau of The Village Voice called it a “perfect record.” In a way, I think Freedy attempted to return to the quality and mood of Can You Fly on his subsequent works, while trying to demonstrate his independence from it.
Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain!
Mark Zoltak was the man with a plan. He saw the big picture and had extensive musical knowledge. When listening to a demo, he’d hear its final mix instead. He preached Freedy’s work like Billy Graham cited scripture. Mark talked at a heart palpitating, mile-a-minute pace with motivational energy. His mind was five steps ahead of yours in a conversation. When we were airborne en route to Holland, he remembered that he left his car double parked, flashers blinking on a busy Hoboken street. That was just like him, as his passions sometimes rendered him absent-minded. He had an absolute panic attack on board the plane! Mark was consumed by Freedy’s career and was the perfect manager. In the not too distant future, Freedy would fire Mark.
Here’s The Real Deal. Mark was the kind of guy that, on first glance, few took seriously. Soon, however, he demonstrated qualities that few can only aspire to. He spoke his mind freely and often. He was politically incorrect. He’d say things with serious intent, but in a way that would generate laughter instead. The bottom line is that Mark knew his stuff and knew it better than anyone. The problem with Mark wasn’t his problem, but it was one of outside perception. It’s that he just said and did things in a manner that often did not command authority. He didn’t have much of a track record in the music business, nor did he play any instrument. At times he was personally volatile and unprofessional. So, it’s important you know this because Mark was not properly credited on the first edition of Can You Fly. This was ironic because Mark had been the behind the scenes Executive Producer, Producer, Arranger, Manager and Caterer. In truth, Mark was the one who had a clear vision of Freedy’s songs and single-handedly made this recording come to life. Yes, others (including Freedy of course) played an important role in the success of the project, but Mark laid out Freedy’s career, handing it to him. I believe that this realization may have tortured Freedy over time. How can the artist freely admit that someone else is responsible for realizing his work, perhaps better than he can, while solely accepting the credit for it’s brilliance? Later on, Mark had to kick and scream to get an Executive Producer credit, for which he duly deserved.
Rehearsals and Sessions/Round 1
The recording of the basic tracks for Can You Fly took place in two chunks, each separated by a year. We began in the fall of 1990 at the old Water Music in Hoboken on Grand Street. I have fond memories of this studio as I recorded there quite a bit including Helen Hooke’s Versability, The Silos’ Hasta La Victoria, Kevin Salem’s Unreleased and Madderose’s Bring It Down. I also produced Ms. Lum’s Airport Love Song there. The first batch of songs included Responsible, California Thing, Tearing Down This Place and Wheels. The band line-up was me on drums, Freedy, Jared Nickerson on bass and Jimmy Lee. Graham Maby produced this batch of tunes and played some guitar too. These sessions were fun, easy and light-hearted. The overall mood was fine and Freedy’s songs were so good that they seemed to play themselves. I remember feeling immense satisfaction after these sessions, and knew that we created something special. I listened to the basic tracks of Responsible and some other out takes endlessly in my car and at home for months afterward. I would have been a fan even if I hadn’t worked on these songs. Freedy was the most unique and original artist I had worked with. I was sure he’d be as notorious as Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Wilco or the like.
Rehearsals and Sessions/Round 2
The next round occurred a year later, around Thanksgiving of 1991 under the direction of Mark Zoltak and producer Knut Bohn. There was a big difference in Knut’s approach to recording. He had specific ideas about kick drum patterns and muted my cymbals with tape. You can really hear the dry cymbals all over the recording and especially at the end of Tryin’ To Tell You I Don’t Know. Overall, it seemed he wanted to minimize the role of the drummer in the band and didn’t want parts to stand out, whereas Graham had a “go-for-it” approach.
I worked with (or around) Knut by relying on the nuances and subtleties of my performances. For example, In The New Sunshine has fewer fills but a more intricate groove. The fact that The Lucky One has absolutely no fills actually highlights the groove and the song. Because my drum fills with Knut were more sparse and less active, it was a challenge to keep them interesting and effective. Admittedly, some of my drum fills ended up sounding a bit Charley Watts-esque, which (I believe) secretly drove Freedy and Knut crazy. Although they never confronted me about it, they would communicate with not-so-subtle glances or expressions during the playback of the drum tracks. However, in spite of their disrespect and attempts to minimize my contributions, the musical choices I made and performed for Can You Fly were unparalleled.
Here’s The Real Deal. This was no small task. I had to work within Knut’s confines while executing what Freedy was hearing. He wasn’t the greatest musical communicator. To compound matters, Freedy insisted on bringing in his old drummer, Alan Bezozi, to play percussion on the record. By Freedy’s design, the guy had to shake a tambourine or hit a bell over every god-damned drum track. Freedy was taken by Bezozi’s percussion playing as if he had just witnessed pure musical genius. The subtext was, “Now, if that guy (instead of Brian Doherty) had played drums on my record, then we’d have a masterpiece on our hands!” Trust me, I’m not a sensitive “victim” making this shit up. It really happened, and it was laughable. It was passive aggressive behavior for reasons unknown to me. Alan Bezozi was Freedy’s drummer before me and played drums on The Trouble Tree. As a drummer, Alan was a groove-buster and had trouble getting to the heart of the musical matter. It didn’t go unnoticed by others, but Freedy would still rely on Bezozi as his go-to guy. Bezozi had approached me once saying, “No offense, but your tracks on Can You Fly sound like they should be on a Bob Seger record.” I pointed out that drummer Roger Hawkins (of Muscle Schoals fame) played on many Seger tracks and thanked him for the generous compliment.
Months later, I went to a Freedy show in NYC on the Can You Fly tour and was not shocked to hear Bezozi’s musical road blocks during the set. I felt a tug at my sleeve and turned to face Michael Azerrad, musician and Rolling Stone journalist standing next to me. “Why the hell aren’t you up there playing drums?” he asked. “This drummer is killing these songs!” I shared his view. Let me wrap this section up by telling you that in 2007 I got an email from Freedy, after not hearing from him for many years. He was planning a 15-year anniversary gig, commemorating the release of Can You Fly. He explained the situation and told me he was rounding up the crew that had worked on the record. He also told me that he had already secured the commitment of Alan Bezozi for the gig. It occurred to me that it might be two-drummer affair, although I was the only drummer on the recording. I don’t know how the gig turned out because I was not there.
If Jared Nickerson was the definition of cool, then Kevin Salem was the demonstration of dishevelled. A Cat Stevens look alike, Kevin would stroll into rehearsals reeking of cat piss. His jeans were torn from the crotch straight down to the ankle. The entire pant leg was one big rip. The only thing that protected him from an indecent exposure charge were the yellowing long johns he wore underneath. He’d open his guitar cases and the stink of cat piss would almost knock you over. At dinner, the guy would eye the food on your plate like Steve Guttenburg’s character in that movie Diner. On the Holland Tour, Kevin booked me to play drums on his upcoming recording (for which I would never see a dime),Burberry Scarfs, and he would later ask Mark Zoltak to help finance it (I’m not sure Mark ever saw his money again either).
Can You Fly was released in early 1992. Shortly afterward, I went to Europe with The Silos for a five-week tour. Before I left, I got a call from Mark Zoltak asking me to work with Freedy in Belgium for a week or so. Miraculously, Freedy’s dates began a day or two after the last Silos date. It was perfect. I was then informed that Freedy had no money to pay me and was asked if I would do it for the cost of expenses and meals. I told Mark that I’d think about it. In the interim, I got a call from Kevin Salem who was livid about the situation. I shared his feelings and we agreed that we would both turn the offer down. In a phone call, I told Mark how I felt and that I wouldn’t be making the trip to Belgium. A week or so after I returned from The Silos tour, I called Kevin Salem to catch up and chat. He informed me that he had just returned from Belgium where he worked with Freedy.
From Freedy to TMBG
In later years, Freedy and I saw each other on only a few occasions. There was a gig in Woodstock. Once, he was a guest at my home in Stone Ridge, NY and there was a recording session with Freedy and Marshall Crenshaw, produced by John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants. My drum tracks on Can You Fly are some of my best ever. I was 28 years old and I felt I had made musical progress. It was the bridge that carried me away from The Silos and on to many other bands. Today, after having played in bands and on sessions for 30 years, I can tell you that it can sometimes be an absolute chore to work on music. Often, it’s futile. The songs of Can You Fly, however, were a breeze in comparison. That’s because they were well written songs, straight from the heart. Later, my drum tracks would attract the attention of They Might Be Giants, with whom I would work for the next several years.
After the release of the record, Freedy fired Mark Zoltak and hired the manager of They Might Be Giants. Mark would later explain it to me saying, “I was worried about Freedy’s music and now he wants to cash-in on t-shirt sales just like They Might Be Giants do!”