Post by Ribbs on Jun 4, 2005 21:27:56 GMT -5
I was jammed on the 101, going to a meeting in the Valley in Sept. 2003 when I heard shocking news on the AM dial – “Singer Robert Palmer found dead in his hotel room in Paris. The weather today will be continued…" - I couldn’t believe my ears. I still can’t believe that more wasn’t made of his passing. Well, here is my remembrance from the Eighties…
I was in the Bahamas recording at Compass Point Studios with former Wham man Andrew Ridgeley. An idyllic place to work – my apartment was right on the water, directly across the little serpentine road from the studio. My digs shared a common thick coquina rock wall with a place owned by Robert Palmer. I was told that recently his engineer Eric ‘E.T.’ Thorngren had been staying there on and off.
Andrew liked to record by banker’s hours – our little group of session players, engineer (Gordon Fordyce, who recommended me for the job), and Andrew would gather for breakfast (always involving conch in some configuration) at one of the apartments every morning at 8, followed by banging out songs from 9 to 5 or so. Now I’m not much of one for late night partying, so my usual evening routine consisted of dinner (conch sandwiches and Red Stripe) and a few hours of reading before unconciousness. I loved getting up at dawn and snorkeling out in front of our little building before breakfast. All was peaceful. Until..
One night as I was reading myself to sleep I began to hear the incessant thumping of kick drum and bass thru the wall. Now to those of you unfamiliar with the soundproofing qualities of an old thick coquina rock wall, I would like to impress upon you that sonically clearing that barrier requires considerable volume. I am also hypersensitive to sound, particularly when trying to sleep. I mean sometimes my refrigerator keeps me up. So I continued to read, thinking that E.T. would soon settle down, or at least change to a quieter musical mood. Twas not to be – in fact, the exact same rhythmic pattern kept pounding thru the wall. Til at least 4am.
The next morning I stumbled to our breakfast table without my usual swim or chipper demeanor. Gordon looked at my swollen mug and asked what happened. I proceeded to explain and then said I was going to have to complain to E.T. or someone so as to protect my beauty rest. Andrew laughed and said that no, it wasn’t E.T. – he heard that Robert Palmer himself had returned yesterday and would be working on some new tracks at the studio soon. I was horrified. I revered Robert’s work – Pride and Clues were two of my all-time favorite records. No way I could complain to Robert Palmer! Gordon, however, would have none of that. He insisted that I write a letter of complaint. I got into the spirit – I figured I would never meet the guy anyway, so what the hell. My letter went something like this:
Dear Mr. Palmer,
As a longtime fan of yours (and no slouch of a musician myself) I am writing to say what an honor it was to hear your new work-in-progress late last night. However, I feel that it could use some additional keyboards on the second verse. Give me a call if you would like my help, as I’m sure I will be awake.
Your temporary neighbor,
Richard Gibbs
Everybody egged me on, so I actually got my nerve up and put my note in Robert’s mail slot at the studio.
Around 5pm that day as we were working I got a message from the front desk that I had a call waiting. I picked up, expecting my wife or my manager. “Hello, Richard, this is Robert”. I paused, mystified. “Robert?” I said. “Yes, Robert, from across the street”. I was stunned. At first I thought it was one of the guys in our ensemble screwing with me, but I could see all of them thru the control room glass. I could hear the sound of many people laughing in the background on the phone. “We were wondering, would you care to come over for a drink after you are finished there today?” I stammered my assent. “Great – see you then”. I hung up, mouth agape. Gordon was laughing his ass off at me.
So I did go over. Robert had enjoyed my missive immensely and had shared it with his band (hence the laughing in the background). He was an extremely gracious host and we all hit it off. He had an astounding record collection and an encyclopedic knowledge of music from all over the world. We spoke of Balinesian gamelan and Miles Davis, Bulgarian Women’s Choir and the Bhundu Boys. I was fascinated, a rapt student. He had a small recording rig in his living room with some very large Urei monitors – hence the nocturnal thumping. He promised that wouldn’t happen again – I was embarrassed for the chutzpah of my complaint. He then asked when I was finished with Andrew if I wanted to spend a few hours recording some synth on one of his demos in his living room. You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. “You bet, I’m there!”
A few days later I played on that demo. That night I flew home, a dream achieved. A week later I get a call – “Richard, it’s Robert. Could you come back and play on a few tracks at Compass Point?” “Sure – when do you have in mind?” “How about tomorrow?” Wow. Those sessions were for a movie called Sweet Lies, and I learned boatloads from Robert. One of the tracks surfaced later on Addictions:Vol. 1 – it was a remake of Woke Up Laughing that to this day is probably my favorite piece of music that I have been involved in.
A while later I received another of Robert’s last minute calls to come work on his next album in Milan with his regular band. Way too much fun. He had this one track that he wanted to record as kind of a down-tempo shuffle called Simply Irresistible. After we had finished I cornered the amazing groove-meister drummer Dony Wynn in the hall – “Don’t you think that song could be a hit at a faster tempo?” Dony agreed, told Robert, and the next day we recorded the hit. The only bummer is that Robert credited Dony with the idea for the new tempo on Addictions:Vol. 1. Oh well. (Hey if anybody knows where I can find Dony Wynn, let me know!) Robert showed up every morning in the studio dressed to the nines – three-piece suits, alligator boots, impeccable. He was always a perfect gentleman and the most enthusiastic creator of music I have ever met. He loved what he did for a living and his joy was contagious. He would usually sing in the iso booth along with the band for every take. Sometimes he would count us off and just to mess with us would throw in hiccups or gobbledygook in the count – if you listen to his songs you can hear the occasional example. I had always hoped to work with him again someday on a film score or some bizarre recording project involving Lithuanian Pygmies or something. The world will miss him always.
I was in the Bahamas recording at Compass Point Studios with former Wham man Andrew Ridgeley. An idyllic place to work – my apartment was right on the water, directly across the little serpentine road from the studio. My digs shared a common thick coquina rock wall with a place owned by Robert Palmer. I was told that recently his engineer Eric ‘E.T.’ Thorngren had been staying there on and off.
Andrew liked to record by banker’s hours – our little group of session players, engineer (Gordon Fordyce, who recommended me for the job), and Andrew would gather for breakfast (always involving conch in some configuration) at one of the apartments every morning at 8, followed by banging out songs from 9 to 5 or so. Now I’m not much of one for late night partying, so my usual evening routine consisted of dinner (conch sandwiches and Red Stripe) and a few hours of reading before unconciousness. I loved getting up at dawn and snorkeling out in front of our little building before breakfast. All was peaceful. Until..
One night as I was reading myself to sleep I began to hear the incessant thumping of kick drum and bass thru the wall. Now to those of you unfamiliar with the soundproofing qualities of an old thick coquina rock wall, I would like to impress upon you that sonically clearing that barrier requires considerable volume. I am also hypersensitive to sound, particularly when trying to sleep. I mean sometimes my refrigerator keeps me up. So I continued to read, thinking that E.T. would soon settle down, or at least change to a quieter musical mood. Twas not to be – in fact, the exact same rhythmic pattern kept pounding thru the wall. Til at least 4am.
The next morning I stumbled to our breakfast table without my usual swim or chipper demeanor. Gordon looked at my swollen mug and asked what happened. I proceeded to explain and then said I was going to have to complain to E.T. or someone so as to protect my beauty rest. Andrew laughed and said that no, it wasn’t E.T. – he heard that Robert Palmer himself had returned yesterday and would be working on some new tracks at the studio soon. I was horrified. I revered Robert’s work – Pride and Clues were two of my all-time favorite records. No way I could complain to Robert Palmer! Gordon, however, would have none of that. He insisted that I write a letter of complaint. I got into the spirit – I figured I would never meet the guy anyway, so what the hell. My letter went something like this:
Dear Mr. Palmer,
As a longtime fan of yours (and no slouch of a musician myself) I am writing to say what an honor it was to hear your new work-in-progress late last night. However, I feel that it could use some additional keyboards on the second verse. Give me a call if you would like my help, as I’m sure I will be awake.
Your temporary neighbor,
Richard Gibbs
Everybody egged me on, so I actually got my nerve up and put my note in Robert’s mail slot at the studio.
Around 5pm that day as we were working I got a message from the front desk that I had a call waiting. I picked up, expecting my wife or my manager. “Hello, Richard, this is Robert”. I paused, mystified. “Robert?” I said. “Yes, Robert, from across the street”. I was stunned. At first I thought it was one of the guys in our ensemble screwing with me, but I could see all of them thru the control room glass. I could hear the sound of many people laughing in the background on the phone. “We were wondering, would you care to come over for a drink after you are finished there today?” I stammered my assent. “Great – see you then”. I hung up, mouth agape. Gordon was laughing his ass off at me.
So I did go over. Robert had enjoyed my missive immensely and had shared it with his band (hence the laughing in the background). He was an extremely gracious host and we all hit it off. He had an astounding record collection and an encyclopedic knowledge of music from all over the world. We spoke of Balinesian gamelan and Miles Davis, Bulgarian Women’s Choir and the Bhundu Boys. I was fascinated, a rapt student. He had a small recording rig in his living room with some very large Urei monitors – hence the nocturnal thumping. He promised that wouldn’t happen again – I was embarrassed for the chutzpah of my complaint. He then asked when I was finished with Andrew if I wanted to spend a few hours recording some synth on one of his demos in his living room. You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. “You bet, I’m there!”
A few days later I played on that demo. That night I flew home, a dream achieved. A week later I get a call – “Richard, it’s Robert. Could you come back and play on a few tracks at Compass Point?” “Sure – when do you have in mind?” “How about tomorrow?” Wow. Those sessions were for a movie called Sweet Lies, and I learned boatloads from Robert. One of the tracks surfaced later on Addictions:Vol. 1 – it was a remake of Woke Up Laughing that to this day is probably my favorite piece of music that I have been involved in.
A while later I received another of Robert’s last minute calls to come work on his next album in Milan with his regular band. Way too much fun. He had this one track that he wanted to record as kind of a down-tempo shuffle called Simply Irresistible. After we had finished I cornered the amazing groove-meister drummer Dony Wynn in the hall – “Don’t you think that song could be a hit at a faster tempo?” Dony agreed, told Robert, and the next day we recorded the hit. The only bummer is that Robert credited Dony with the idea for the new tempo on Addictions:Vol. 1. Oh well. (Hey if anybody knows where I can find Dony Wynn, let me know!) Robert showed up every morning in the studio dressed to the nines – three-piece suits, alligator boots, impeccable. He was always a perfect gentleman and the most enthusiastic creator of music I have ever met. He loved what he did for a living and his joy was contagious. He would usually sing in the iso booth along with the band for every take. Sometimes he would count us off and just to mess with us would throw in hiccups or gobbledygook in the count – if you listen to his songs you can hear the occasional example. I had always hoped to work with him again someday on a film score or some bizarre recording project involving Lithuanian Pygmies or something. The world will miss him always.