Can You Fly was the album that put Freedy Johnston on the map and set the tone for his future recordings. It was well received and made several critics’ “Best Of” lists that year. Robert Christgau of The Village Voice called it a “perfect record”. In a way, I think Freedy tried to get back to the quality and mood of Can You Fly in his later work, while he was trying to show his independence.
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 he listened to a demo, he listened to his final mix. He preached Freedy’s work such as Billy Graham Quoted Scriptures. Mark spoke at a pounding, mile-a-minute pace with motivating energy. His mind was five steps ahead of yours in conversation. When we were on the air on our way to Holland, he recalled that he double-parked his car with its blinkers on on a busy Hoboken street. That was like him, since his passions sometimes made him distracted. He had an outright 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 type of person that, at first glance, few took seriously. Soon, however, he demonstrated qualities that few can aspire to. He said what he thought freely and often. He was politically incorrect. He was saying things with serious intentions, but in a way that elicited laughter. The bottom line is that Mark knew what he was doing and he knew it better than anyone. The problem with Mark was not his problem, but it was one of external perception. It’s that he just said and did things in a way that often didn’t command authority. He didn’t have much of a background in the music business, nor did he play any instruments. He was personally volatile and unprofessional at times. Therefore, it is important that you know this because Mark was not properly credited in the first edition of You can fly. This was ironic because Mark had been the executive producer, producer, arranger, manager, and supplier behind the scenes. In truth, Mark was the one who had a clear vision of Freedy’s songs and single-handedly brought this recording to life. Yes, others (including Freedy, of course) played a part in the success of the project, but Mark exposed Freedy’s career and handed it over. I think this realization may have tortured Freedy over time. How can the artist freely admit that someone else is responsible for doing his work, perhaps better than he is, while only accepting credit for his brilliance? Later, Mark had to kick and scream to get the Executive Producer credit, which he deserved.
Rehearsals and Sessions/Round 1
The recording of the basic tracks for Can You Fly took place in two parts, each separated by a year. We started 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 quite a bit, including Helen Hooke’s. VersatilityThe Silos’ To victoryby Kevin Salem unpublished and Madderose shoot him 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 consisted of me on drums, Freedy, Jared Nickerson on bass, and Jimmy Lee. Graham Maby produced this batch of songs and also played some guitars. These sessions were fun, easy and joyful. The general mood was good and Freedy’s songs were so good they seemed to play themselves. I remember feeling immense satisfaction after these sessions and I knew we created something special. I heard the basic tracks of Responsible and the occasional endless ride 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 ever worked with. He was sure that he would be as famous as Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Wilco or the like.
Rehearsals and Sessions/Round 2
The next round occurred a year later, around Thanksgiving 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 on kick drum patterns and would silence my cymbals with tape. You can really hear the dry cymbals throughout the recording and especially at the end of Trying to tell you that I don’t know. In general, he seemed like he wanted to minimize the role of the drummer in the band and didn’t want the parts to stand out, while Graham had a “forward” approach.
I worked with (or around) Knut relying on the nuances and subtleties of my performances. For example, in the new sun it has fewer fillers but a more intricate groove. The fact that The fortunate it has absolutely no filler, it actually brings out the beat and the song. Because my drum fills with Knut were sparser 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, which (I think) secretly freaked out Freedy and Knut. Although they never confronted me about it, they communicated with not-so-subtle looks or expressions during the playback of the drum tracks. However, despite their disrespect and attempts to minimize my contributions, the musical choices I made and performed for You can fly they were incomparable.
Here’s the real deal. This was no small task. I had to work within Knut’s confines while he played what Freedy heard. He was not the best musical communicator. To complicate matters, Freedy insisted on bringing in his former drummer, Alan Bezozi, to play percussion on the record. By Freedy’s design, the guy had to wave a tambourine or ring a bell on every damn drum track. Freedy was carried away by Bezozi’s percussion as if he had just witnessed musical genius in its purest form. The subtext was, “Now, if that (instead of Brian Doherty) would have 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 ridiculous. It was a passive aggressive behavior for reasons unknown to me Alan Bezozi was Freedy’s drummer before me and played drums in The problem Threemy. As a drummer, Alan was a beat breaker and had trouble getting to the heart of the musical issue. He didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but Freedy would still trust Bezozi as his go-to person. Bezozi came up to me once and said: “No offense, but your songs on Can You Fly sound like they’re on a Bob Seger record.” I pointed out that drummer Roger Hawkins (of Muscle Schools fame) played on many Seger tracks and thanked him for the generous compliment.
Months later, I went to a Freedy show in New York at the You can fly tour and was not surprised to hear Bezozi’s musical blocks during the set. I felt a tug on my sleeve and turned to look at Michael Azerrad, musician and Rolling Stone journalist standing next to me. “Why the hell aren’t you up there playing the drums?” asked. “This drummer is killing these songs!” I shared your point of view. Let me conclude this section by saying that in 2007 I received an email from Freedy, after not hearing from him for many years. He was planning a 15-year anniversary concert, commemorating the release of You can fly. She explained the situation to me and told me that she was putting together the team that had worked on the record. He also told me that he had already secured Alan Bezozi’s commitment to the concert. It occurred to me that it might be a two-drummer affair, even though I was the only drummer on the record. I don’t know how the concert turned out because I wasn’t there.
If Jared Nickerson was the definition of cool, then Kevin Salem was the epitome of scruffy. Kevin, who looked like Cat Stevens, walked into rehearsals reeking of cat urine. His jeans were ripped from crotch to ankle. His entire pant leg was one big rip. The only thing protecting him from an indecent exposure charge were the yellowish long johns he wore underneath him. He would open his guitar cases and the stench of cat urine would almost knock you over. At dinner, the guy would look at the food on your plate like Steve Guttenburg’s character in that movie. Dinner. On the Holland Tour, Kevin hired me to play drums on his next recording (which I would never see a penny for), and would later ask Mark Zoltak to help finance it (not sure Mark would ever see again). Neither does your money. ).
You can fly was released in early 1992. Soon after, 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 dating started a day or two after Silos’s last date. It was perfect. Then they informed me that Freedy did not have money to pay me and they asked me if he would do it for the cost of expenses and meals. I told Mark I would think about it. Meanwhile, I received a call from Kevin Salem, who was furious about the situation. I shared his sentiments and we agreed that we would both decline the offer. In a phone call, I told Mark how I felt and that he was not making the trip to Belgium. About a week after I got back 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 was working with Freedy.
From Freedy to TMBG
In later years, Freedy and I saw each other only a few times. There was a concert at Woodstock. One time, he was invited to my house in Stone Ridge, New York, and there was a recording session with Freedy and Marshall Crenshaw, produced by John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants. My drum tracks on You can fly they are some of my best. She was 28 years old and felt that she had progressed musically. It was the bridge that took me away from The Silos and many other bands. Today, having played in bands and sessions for 30 years, I can tell you that sometimes it can be an absolute chore to work on music. Often it is useless. the songs of You can fly, however, they 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 he would work for the next few years.
After the record’s release, Freedy fired Mark Zoltak and hired They Might Be Giants’ manager. Mark would later explain it to me by saying, “I was worried about Freedy’s music and now he wants to cash in on T-shirt sales like They Might Be Giants do.”