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Bob Ezrin

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The Making Of Pink Floyd's The Wall

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Producer Bob Ezrin recalls the building blocks of Pink Floyd's GRAMMY Hall Of Fame-inducted album
Bob Ezrin
GRAMMYs
Jan 5, 2015 - 10:07 am

(Since its inception in 1973, the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame has enshrined nearly 1,000 recordings across all genres. The Making Of … series presents firsthand accounts of the creative process behind some of the essential recordings of the 20th century. You can read more Making Of … accounts, and in-depth insight into the recordings and artists represented in the Hall, in the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame 40th Anniversary Collector's Edition book.)

 

The Wall
Pink Floyd
Columbia (1979)
Album
Inducted 2008

(As told to Tammy La Gorce)

It was Roger [Waters'] wife, Carolyne [Christie], who approached me about doing The Wall. She had actually worked with me on an Alice Cooper project years before in London. The idea was, because this was so much Roger's own project and not a group effort, he needed a kind of referee between him and the rest of the band — someone who could help him realize his vision and deal with the rest of the band without creating problems between him and them.  

In the beginning we had a very long demo that Roger had written. We started to separate out the pieces, and when we looked at the storyline we realized what we needed was a through line, something to get us from start to finish.

I started writing, and in the process of doing that I began to realize, "I'm writing a script." It took one night in my flat in London. I closed my eyes and wrote out the movie that would become The Wall.

The next day in the studio, we made copies of the script and handed them out, and we all sat down for a table read.

We laid down the bits of music we had from the demo, and obviously there were songs missing, bits of the script where we didn't yet have a song. We'd mark those "TBW" — "to be written." "Comfortably Numb" was a TBW song. With the screenplay, we had a real framework for how things would go, and it proved crucial.

I think it was remarkable how fast we finished it. When you add it all up, we spent maybe seven or eight months in the studio. We started in England, then we went to the South of France, and we finished up in Los Angeles. Think about it: You can read stories about some of the more indulgent albums, like [Guns N' Roses'] Chinese Democracy, where 10 or 12 years were spent on something that ends up with a whimper and not a bang. When you think about that, we worked pretty quick.

Overall, [The Wall] was a fantastic experience. An amazing accomplishment.

(Tammy La Gorce is a freelance writer whose work appears regularly in The New York Times.)

Pink Floyd's 'The Wall' exhibit

Pink Floyd's The Wall

Photo: Daniel Leal-Olivas/AFP/Getty Images

Feature

Pink Floyd's 'The Wall': For The Record

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Find out how Roger Waters' critique of "education" journeyed from imaginative concept to the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame
Philip Merrill
GRAMMYs
Nov 23, 2017 - 8:15 am

"Teacher, leave them kids alone! All in all it's just another brick in the wall. All in all you're just another brick in the wall."

Although Pink Floyd's GRAMMY win at the 37th Annual GRAMMY Awards came without Roger Waters in the lineup, they all shared in The Wall's 2008 induction to the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame.

For The Record: Pink Floyd's 'The Wall'

Originally released on Nov. 30, 1979, the epic double album was nominated for Album Of The Year and Best Rock Performance By A Duo Or Group With Vocal at the 23rd Annual GRAMMY Awards, and was subsequently adapted into the 1982 film Pink Floyd: The Wall. Waters went on to also be nominated individually for the 2014 documentary Roger Waters: The Wall at the 58th GRAMMY Awards.

The high-concept appeal of Waters' imagination did not impress record executives initially, but over time it's caught on in a big way. The Wall has been certified 23-times platinum by the RIAA, trailing only the Eagles' Their Greatest Hits 1971–1975 and Michael Jackson's Thriller.

The single "Another Brick In The Wall (Part II)" from The Wall became iconic in itself, partly thanks to obnoxious schoolmaster lines such as, "If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding! How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?" Many of the song's frills were added by Bob Ezrin, making itself a self-contained drama within the album's wider scope.

The main character Pink in The Wall was partially autobiographical for Waters but also partly based on former Pink Floyd bandmate Syd Barrett, who had originally named the band. The two friends struggled with similar psychological and substance-abuse issues, but Barrett's prevented him from being able to continue writing and performing. Waters was under immense pressure to step up and deliver creativity that could fill Barrett's big boots.

The result was The Wall.

The Making Of Pink Floyd's The Wall

Keith Jarrett playing piano

Keith Jarrett

Photo: Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

Interview

Pianist Keith Jarrett: The story of 'The Köln Concert'

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GRAMMY-nominated pianist discusses overcoming adversity for the recording of his GRAMMY Hall Of Fame-inducted album in Germany
Keith Jarrett
GRAMMYs
May 15, 2017 - 2:36 am

(Since its inception in 1973, the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame has enshrined nearly 1,000 recordings across all genres. The Making Of … series presents firsthand accounts of the creative process behind some of the essential recordings of the 20th century. You can read more Making Of … accounts, and in-depth insight into the recordings and artists represented in the Hall, in the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame 40th Anniversary Collector's Edition book.)

 

 

The Köln Concert
Keith Jarrett
ECM (1975)
Album
Inducted 2011

(As told to Don Heckman)

The story of how The Köln Concert recording was made begins with ECM Records founder Manfred Eicher and I doing a driving tour of solo concerts in Europe. Some of them were recorded, some of them were not. But the Cologne concert [in Germany] was one that was definitely scheduled to be recorded. However, for a 24-hour period before we got to Cologne we had not slept at all. When we arrived at the hotel, I tried to take a nap. But it was impossible to do so. 

The producer of the concert came to take us to the [Cologne Opera House] in his Rolls-Royce, a car that was so over the top that we could have eaten dinner in it, on the perfectly made wood panels. But we didn't really learn the problems we were facing until we arrived at the hall. I went onstage and realized, "Hey, I have a Bösendorfer [piano] here and it's not the right size and it sounds like a modified electric harpsichord." And then we found out that they couldn't get the right piano, even though it existed, because their rental truck was gone.

At that point, we probably said all kinds of curse words. And we started to tell the engineers, "Maybe you can just pack up." But then Manfred and I both sort of thought that was crazy. The recording equipment was already set up. So we decided to just make a tape of the performance, even it if was just for ourselves. So we went to dinner. It was already late, I was due to go onstage soon, we'd had so many hassles, and the piano was such a terrible instrument. And I hadn't slept anyway. So I was in almost hell. Then we went to this Italian restaurant where, for some perfectly symmetrical reason, we were served way last. Everyone else was eating, I was the one who was going to play in an hour, and I still didn't have any food. And then when they finally brought the food, I was still hungry, because I wasn't happy with the food they served.

All I remember after the restaurant fiasco is taking a peek at the engineers sitting, waiting with their equipment. They had everything ready. And I started thinking, "I'm going to do this." I remember putting my fist up in the air on the way out [from] backstage. I just looked at Manfred and [said], "Power!" or something. 

Someone told me that, in the very beginning of that performance, what I was playing was imitating the bells in the lobby — the little phrase they play to tell the audience when it's time to go in to the theater. To my knowledge, I have no idea [if] that was true. But then something interesting happened. It just seemed like everybody in the audience was there for a tremendous experience, and that made my job easy. What happened with this piano was that I was forced to play in what was — at the time — a new way. Somehow I felt I had to bring out whatever qualities this instrument had.

And that was it. My sense was, "I have to do this. I'm doing it. I don't care what the f*** the piano sounds like. I'm doing it." And I did.

(Don Heckman has been writing about jazz and other music for five decades in The New York Times,Los Angeles Times, Jazz Times, Down Beat, Metronome, High Fidelity, and his personal blog, the International Review of Music.)

The Moody Blues' Mike Pinder, Justin Hayward, John Lodge, Ray Thomas, and Graeme Edge

(l-r) The Moody Blues' Mike Pinder, Justin Hayward, John Lodge, Ray Thomas, and Graeme Edge

Photo: Michael Putland/Getty Images

Feature

The making of the Moody Blues' 'Nights In White Satin'

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Justin Hayward details the making of the Moody Blues' 1972 GRAMMY Hall Of Fame-inducted hit
Justin Hayward
GRAMMYs
May 15, 2017 - 2:36 am

(Since its inception in 1973, the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame has enshrined nearly 1,000 recordings across all genres. The Making Of … series presents firsthand accounts of the creative process behind some of the essential recordings of the 20th century. You can read more Making Of … accounts, and in-depth insight into the recordings and artists represented in the Hall, in the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame 40th Anniversary Collector's Edition book.)

"Nights In White Satin"
The Moody Blues
Deram (1972)
Single
Inducted 1999

(As told to John Sutton-Smith)

I came to the band as a songwriter trying to find an outlet for my songs. They had only been together for a short time and cut "Go Now" and that was about it. The three guys that were left, after [bassist] Clint [Warwick] and [singer/guitarist] Denny [Laine] left, their heart wasn't into the rhythm & blues stuff. Mike [Pinder] was into doing new material and so was I, so we stopped wearing the blue suits and overnight it changed for us.

I got back from a gig about 4 in the morning, sat on the edge of the bed and just wrote down the basic thing. I was at the end of one love affair and at the beginning of another. And I do write letters never meaning to send, so there's quite a lot of truth to that song. When I played "Nights [In White Satin]" initially to the other guys, they were quite unimpressed until Mike did that phrase on the mellotron. I have to give him a lot of credit for that.

[Producer] Tony Clarke gave me a wonderful guitar sound and he knew how to record my voice, and with Mike he got that mellotron sound that is so sensational. The recording was a very happy relaxed time, because we didn't think we were under any pressure. It wasn't a huge career thing. We just wanted to get our stage act recorded, really, and here was this opportunity to make this stereo demonstration record for Decca. Hardly anyone had stereo, so it would only appeal to a few people, but it gave us a chance. Peter Knight the orchestral arranger had seen us and liked our material and said the best way to do it was to record the orchestral breaks between our songs.

I was the only one in the studio when they recorded the London Festival Orchestra. They only did it once. They did a rehearsal with Tony Clarke, and prepared the tape long enough with blank tape onto a 4-track, with Peter Knight, counting down. It's unbelievable how they did this. They'd already put the songs in the right order with the gaps in between, and then Peter would conduct the orchestra to his own voice counting. They rehearsed it once without [recording] it, no alternative take or anything, then took a break for a cup of tea, then they did a take and that was it; it was over.

We first heard ["Nights In White Satin"] in our transit van, going to a gig up north. They played it on the radio, and we pulled over. It was, like, spooky. There was something strange about it, that we hadn't really heard when we were playing it, but you got when you listened to it.

I had no idea that FM radio in America would pick it up and that "Nights…" would happen. I often wonder to this day what it is about the record that people like, because there's hardly anything on it. I mean we double-tracked the guitar, Mike did some double-tracking on his mellotron, and we were really only bouncing between two-track and four-track anyway. There's some fabulous Decca echoes on it, but there's really nothing else. 

(John Sutton-Smith is a music journalist and TV producer who helped establish the GRAMMY Foundation's GRAMMY Living Histories oral history program, currently comprising almost 200 interviews.)

GRAMMYs

Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

Photo: Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images

Feature

Making of: Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's "Mr. Bojangles"

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Guitarist/vocalist Jeff Hanna discusses hearing the recording of the group's GRAMMY Hall Of Fame-inducted classic
Jeff Hanna
GRAMMYs
May 15, 2017 - 2:36 am

(Since its inception in 1973, the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame has enshrined nearly 1,000 recordings across all genres. The Making Of … series presents firsthand accounts of the creative process behind some of the essential recordings of the 20th century. You can read more Making Of … accounts, and in-depth insight into the recordings and artists represented in the Hall, in the GRAMMY Hall Of Fame 40th Anniversary Collector's Edition book.)

 

 

"Mr. Bojangles"
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Liberty (1970)
Single
Inducted 2010

(As told to Roy Trakin)

We were rehearsing for Uncle Charlie & His Dog Teddy in this giant [Seeburg] Jukebox warehouse in Long Beach, Calif., where [bassist] Les Thompson's dad was a distributor. Driving home one night, I heard the tail end of this song on the radio. There was no back-announcing on FM, so we had no idea who or what it was. I pulled the car over to listen, and my eyes just welled up. The song really moved me.

The next day, I announced I'd heard this beautiful tune we ought to record. [Guitarist] Jimmy Ibbotson jumped up and blurted, "I think I know what song you're talking about," ran to the parking lot, popped the trunk on his Dodge Dart, and under the spare tire — I'm not sure it was even in a sleeve — was the 45 of "Mr. Bojangles." When he left New Castle, Ind., for California, he was given the single by this hippie — whom he described as a witch — telling him, mysteriously, "You should have this."

We excitedly ran into the jukebox factory, found a playable turntable, put some pennies on the disc — there was no amplification, so we had to listen on these tinny speakers — and pulled the lyrics as best we could. We actually screwed up a couple of the words on the final record.

We recorded at World Pacific Studios on West 3rd St. in L.A., where a lot of amazing jazz and R&B records were made. I sang lead on "[Mr.] Bojangles," with Jimmy doing harmonies. We actually switched up on the last verse, where I went up to the high harmony. We wanted to use accordion and mandolin together because the emotional impact was so beautiful. John [McEuen] came up with the gorgeous mandolin part, while Jimmy and I did the cross-picking on guitars. We were big fans of the Band's "Rockin' Chair," [on which] Robbie [Robertson] played this tremolo Archtop.

I remember performing the song live before the album release, and seeing some of the waitresses get all moony. And I thought, "Wow, this must be good." We'd already released one single, "Some Of Shelly's Blues," which we used to sing with Linda Ronstadt, but it peaked at No. 64, so we were pretty disappointed. Then, one day, we got a call from Liberty Records that an FM station in Shreveport, La., was wearing out "Mr. Bojangles," and the phones were lighting up. This was all for a five-minute waltz about an old guy and his dog. But people just loved and responded to the song. It was the emotional high point of our set.

[Producer] Bill McEuen was a fan of this Lightnin' Hopkins' record with Sonny Terry, Brownie McGhee and Big Joe Williams called "Down South Summit Meetin','' which had all these spoken word interludes. McEuen had previously recorded several conversations with his wife Alice's great Uncle Charlie on their front porch, which he edited and placed as the intro to "[Mr.] Bojangles." Taking these two raw pieces of art and combining them turned out to be genius. We're very proud of that record.

My personal favorite is Jerry Jeff Walker's original. He always liked Nina Simone's cover. After it became a hit, Sammy Davis Jr. would give us a shout-out when he performed it.

(Roy Trakin, a senior editor for HITS magazine, has written for every rock publication that ever mattered, some that didn't, and got paid by most of them.)