Thoughts from London studio musicians.
I’m a native. A California native. Worse, I’m a Los Angeleno native. Born, raised, and most likely will die here. I reek of surfer inflection in my English, of West Coast fashion, gait, brazenness, and rebellious long hair. I grew up in a musical family, recording in LA studios, with LA musicians from the time I was twelve. Tragic. I know AFM rules like my social security number, how to balance string player eccentricities with trumpet player pride, and I definitely know when an orchestra has lost respect for me. In LA, it happens after your first mistake. Thus, one day, like a frightened fish drowning in a bowl of applejuice, I found myself conducting a recording session in London, England, and my usual LA intuition had to be scrapped. Apparently, my session coincided with both a John Williams and a Jerry Goldsmith session…all in London.
I’m not sure how but, I still got the cream of the London Philharmonic crop. The players smelled my California aroma immediately upon arrival. These were the very players that had performed some of my favorite scores. Feelings of inadequacy permeated me as I took the stand and was announced by the contractor. The players applauded! I realized that it was a British custom, but my heart didn’t care. They paid me respect, and now I could conquer Everest. As we recorded, there were several orchestration problems that I had to deal with on the stand to my great dismay. After the second “conductor” mistake, I figured I’d lost that respect. Not so. They encouraged me on with winks and smiles even though they had every right to ridicule me. On one particular cue, the poor first trumpet player had to hit high “E”s over and over while the violins were playing sixteenth notes. Unfortunately, the violins kept blowing it, and because of the setup of the studio, we couldn’t overdub. Had we been in LA, by the third take, the lead trumpet player would have bounded into the violin section and bent his “C” trumpet around the concert master’s neck. Rightfully so. But on our fourth and final take in London, not only did the brass section perform perfectly, they never complained. Even though it was causing the brass a good deal of pain, their respect for the music and their peers allowed the violinists to do their unincumbered best and eventually nail the part.
It has been said that to make an atmosphere of creativity, one must first make an atmosphere of respect. I have to agree. Now, I’ve been told that what happened that day was completely atypical of a London session. Perhaps so. It was a bit idyllic, and I’m a bit naive. But I have to wonder how much more enjoyable the human experience would be if we showed a little more respect in our everyday LA sessions.
