“What do you think, John?”
It’s a question I’ve fielded numerous times over the past three days and I’ve proudly mastered a consistent response. First, I utter what I hope is a pensive-sounding syllable, or three, like, “Hmm?” or “Well,” or, “Let me think for a moment.” Then, I do my best to effect a thoughtful facial expression by maybe raising one eyebrow or squinting and looking off into the distance. After slowly nodding, I utter the brilliant observation, “Yes, I think that I agree.” Once in a while I add, “I think that this is definitely the right approach” or “Let’s leave it, live with a\it for a while, and then come back to it.”
The question will have come from either co-producer and engineer, Eric Tate, or the artist, Lauren Sheehan. Both know that I’ve no idea what I’m talking about, but they are too polite to say so, or even to stop asking me. Plus, the stuff that Lauren is laying down and Eric is recording is good, really good. And, we, er, I mean they definitely are taking the right approach to this project.
This is day three of the Great Kalamazoo Sessions and I’ve found myself once again in my favorite setting: I’m clearly the dumbest person in the room. By several magnitudes of whatever may be the proper measure. It’s an experience for which I constantly search and I’ve really hit a home run on that quest here. My learning curve has tipped to vertical, I’m enjoying every moment, and I’m thrilled at finding myself at the vortex of something really special.
Lauren has just completed a lilting, sassy rendition of Stephen Foster’s Old Folks at Home. The combination of an old timey texture courtesy of an all-mahogany 1943 Gibson LG-1 capoed at 5th fret and Lauren’s casually swinging vocal delivery is really hypnotic. In truth, there’s really nothing to think about when Eric queries me about this performance. I simple blurt out, “wonderful.” In agreement (and probably relieved that I’ve at last dropped my act), Eric grins and says to Lauren through the studio monitor, “that’s a keeper. Why don’t you come on in and listen?”
We’ve completed three songs in today’s marathon session, including our only duet. I’ve managed to cajole friend, old time music rhythm guitarist extraordinaire, and WWII-era Gibson enthusiast John Schwab to sit in with Lauren on a rendition of the classic fiddle tune, Soldier’s Joy. John is the prototype supporter of this project. Simply from the goodness of his heart, he traveled from Maryland with five Banner Gibsons stashed in his car, schlepped guitars down to the studio, and then happily jumped back in his car to do a quick roundtrip to Providence, Rhode Island to bring yet another enthusiastic volunteer to our 1940s musical costume party. This guest is none other than famed photographer of folk and blues musicians, Robert Corwin. The crowd in the room just got bigger, I’m now father from the smartness mean by a larger margin, and I couldn’t be happier.
Tomorrow is our last session. I’ve pretty much master my role here, but we may face some pressure tomorrow. So, I’d better go practice my lines.
