What originally led to you working in the studio?
Well, very interesting enough, when we were ten years old, my twin brother [Ralph], a friend down the street, and I started a little band, and it kept on progressing from there. That band actually ended up becoming Rare Earth. I got a degree in electronic engineering, and I was like, "What am I gonna do with my degree?" So I went to Motown — I had the musical background and the degree — so they hired me on the spot. I had just turned 23.
What was the state of Detroit studios when you first began working at Motown?
My brother actually had a studio called Tera Shirma, and they had a lot of hits come out of there. At that time everything was considered state of the art: United Sound [Systems], Golden World, and Tera Shirma. As I got into that business there was the evolution from 8-track, to 16-track, to 24-track, to locking up machines for 48-track, to digital. It was a matter of keeping up with the technology changes. New audio gear and digital processors kept coming along. In Detroit you had to use your brain more to get what you wanted, instead of relying on the equipment to get it for you. You had to sometimes come up with clever ways to get the sound you were looking for.
Motown is pretty famous for developing the DI box and sel-sync technology. How influential do you feel that Motown was in pushing forward the development of recording technology?
It wasn't just Motown — it was the whole recording industry of the world. It was the New York studios, the Chicago studios, Muscle Shoals — all those places. You'd get some of these people who'd develop this equipment, like [Motown's Engineering Department Head] Mike McLean for example. He was a super genius of audio — he would buy a piece of gear, take it apart, and re-do it into what he wanted it to be. They even had this thing called the Motown EQ, which was this 8-band EQ with the faders. The guy had a mind on him that was unbelievable; he was so good at his job.
Did you see Mike as a mentor?
Well, he was on the technical side and I was on the creative side. I've always regarded him as a very good friend, and always looked up to him with incredible respect because of his born talents — he was a natural. He had a limited education, but he could out-do every technical engineer he came across. He was one of those guys that just had that ability that only comes along once in a lifetime.
Would you say that Mike's designs were as integral to the Motown sound as the musical side?
Oh yes, definitely. There are certain things that we would have never achieved without the technical expertise that he presented, so it worked hand in hand. Without him, we wouldn't have gotten what we got.
Do you feel that Berry Gordy gave you a long leash, in terms of your creative freedom?
Absolutely. Berry Gordy was a very smart man. When I first started working at Motown I got to know him. He saw that I had certain talents that would benefit him, so he encouraged me to really open up and follow my strengths. For me, that was mixing. I loved to mix. His whole philosophy was to surround himself with strong people. He could recognize good talent, from singers to producers, writers, engineers, salespeople, and promotion people. Once you got his blessing, you could do whatever you wanted; he encouraged that freedom, especially on the creative side. He used to say, "Don't be passive. Go for the throat." We did. When I became chief engineer, after I moved to L.A., I sat with him and he said, "Look, it's your department, and only you know how you'll run it. Just do what you think is best. It's your baby." Because of the model we had, I had a great group of some of the best people in the industry, but it was because of him. [He] trusted my abilities, the producer's abilities, and the songwriters.
After the move from Detroit to L.A., would you say that the Motown culture stayed as creative and free?
Oh yeah, definitely. There was no difference. It was like you went into another room: the philosophy was still there. Berry had already moved out there anyway. I didn't have anyone look over my shoulder and say, "How come you're using that microphone?" I let my engineers do their job, because I trusted their abilities. We would have meetings and kick around ideas, but when you went in the studio that was your session. You do what you think is best.
So around the time of the move to L.A. would have been when you started working with The Jackson 5, right?
I was still in Detroit, and I got a call from Berry Gordy — he was out in California — and he said, "We signed these kids. We finished the album and listened to all the mixes, and I don't like any of the mixes. I'll send you the multitracks, and I want you to remix the whole album." And I said, "Anything you want me to do?" He said, "No, do what you think is best." It was The Jackson 5's first album. I was in the studio, all by myself mixing. I'll tell ya, the first time I heard Michael's voice, my jaw hit the floor. "This little kid can sing!" But yeah, that's how it started, and, like I said, that's how he [Berry] trusted people. He trusted my ability to scrap all the mixes that he had, send me the multitracks, and say, "You do it."
So the first time you heard Michael's voice, would you say that you instantly knew he was the real deal?
His pitch was great and he had good emotion. He was like an adult in a kid body. He really impressed me. He wasn't just singing words — he came from the heart. Once I moved up to L.A., I was with him a lot. Michael was a good kid; I really liked Michael. He would sit next to me in the control room and would ask, "What does this do? What does that do? Why does that happen?" He was very into the behind the scenes thing too. He was always fascinated by the equipment, how things were accomplished, and how you do it. He was very soft-spoken and very polite, until he got behind a microphone, and all of a sudden, bang — "Who is that guy?" I liked him a lot. He was a very nice person. He was genuine. It was not easy to be Michael Jackson. He couldn't go anywhere without putting on a disguise, because he'd be mobbed. I heard one time he had never been into a grocery store, because he couldn't even walk into a grocery store. Jermaine [Jackson] was telling me they went to a grocery store when they'd closed, and they flipped the manager a couple of bucks so that Michael could walk around. He couldn't believe all the aisles and shelves of food — that blew his mind.
Did Michael always have that sense of perfectionism that he became known for during his later years?
He was always very conscious about his vocals. He wanted to know everything about the recording process because it gave him insight into what is done. Eventually, as he got older, he got more involved in the whole thing. He knew more about mixing and recording, so he knew what to look for.
On a more gear-related note, did you have a particular vocal chain that you liked for Michael?
As I recall, it was a [Neumann] U 87. I gave it some light compression — I think it was an [Urei] LA-3A. I didn't squeeze it — just enough to keep the peaks from slamming, and to give it a little bit more stability. Without a compressor it would go from quiet, to a sudden hard note; and then wham, there goes the meter. That works pretty much for any vocalist too; you don't want to squeeze it too hard. For example, it's like how you never add reverb when you record a vocal, because then you're stuck with what you got. You want it to be as pure as possible in the mix because then you can do whatever you want with it.
How would you incorporate the famous Motown attic reverb chamber into your mixes?
That was usually used in the mix. Like I said, we never recorded with any special reverb, delays, or anything. When I was doing actual recording, I'd usually start off with the rhythm tracks, then some overdubs, then some vocals, then some backgrounds — maybe I'd add some strings or horns. We never processed anything to the point of, "That's the way it's going to be." What if it didn't work out? You're stuck. I could listen to the mix and say, "That's terrible. Do another mix."
So you weren't afraid to start over on a mix?
Oh, remixes were a common thing. Sometimes I'd spend all day on a song, go back, and have 10, 15, 20, 100 mixes before I got what I wanted. There're so many things — especially with the multitrack, when you have 24, or 48 tracks — that one little thing could change everything. I kept going 'til I got to a place where I liked what I got. I have an interesting story for that one. This was back in Detroit. Rare Earth had finished this song. Harry Baldwin, who was the head of the A&R Department, said, "I want you to do a rough mix of a song so I can see what's there." So I go into the studio mixing room; I'm having a lot of fun with the song, playing around. I get with Harry, and he says, "Let's remix, and remix, and remix." So finally I went to Harry and said, "Look, we've got to stop and figure out where we are, because we're going nowhere." He said, "Why don't we go back and listen to the very first mix you did and start over again?" So we put on the very first mix. We both looked at each other and said, "That's the mix." It was, "I Just Want to Celebrate" by Rare Earth. I wasn't really going for anything; I was having fun with the song, and with that spontaneity, boom, it happened to be what we were looking for.
I've heard a similar story with [Michael Jackson's] "Billie Jean" where they did 90 something mixes.
Yeah, absolutely. You're searching in the mind, thinking, "Is this right? Is that right?" There was one time in L.A.; I was burnt out and needed a vacation during a long year. I had just finished a Jackson 5 album, so I went on vacation. We went camping in Utah. Driving back to L.A., we picked up this pop radio station. I forget what single it was, but it was a Jackson 5 single. I'm hearing this thing on the radio, and I think, "Oh, that sounds terrible! I did that?" So, my first day in, I called Berry and I said, "I know the record is out there and everything, but it's terrible. I got back from vacation, and I want to do a remix." He says, "Well, I'm happy with it; it's selling. But go ahead and do what you want. When you get what you like, send me an acetate of the mix, and also send me another acetate of the released version so we can do a comparison." We used to have these dual turntables with an A/B switch, so you could start both at the same time, go back and forth, and compare the difference. I got the mix I liked and sent them both to him. The next day he called me and said, "Yeah, we're going to re-service it." That was it. He trusted my instincts. I thought it wasn't quite what it should be. Some people would say, "That's fine; you wasted money." But that's how he [Berry Gordy] operated.
You mixed Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I'm Yours," correct? When you were working on it, did you know what kind of legacy it would have?
There were a lot of them that I knew were going to be hits, but you couldn't tell. That was one of them. [laughs] Actually Stevie was with me when I was doing that. Stevie was a good guy — a wonderful person. We finished those songs and moved onto something else, and then a few days later I heard it on the radio. But it was like, "I'm through with this project, and now it's on to the next project." [laughs] I never stopped; I was going from one thing to the next. I'd hear it on the radio and say, "Oh, that's right. I forgot about that one."
You almost don't have time to appreciate it.
I remember one time someone asked, "What's it like working with all those celebrities?" Well, it's no different from your job, where you have someone sitting there — they're just people. I remember one time Melvin Franklin of The Temptations told me he loved coming to the studio because he could be himself. When you're on tour and doing interviews, [he told me] "You have to be The Temptations, but here I can be just plain Melvin." He felt that comfortable. He was a friend — we went out to dinner. You work with them for years and years, and you don't really think of them as these big celebrities. I was out with Smokey [Robinson] one time. Smokey and I were always very close friends. I would be at his house and we'd have breakfast and whatever. I was out with him one time — I forget where — and somebody came up and asked him for his autograph. I was thinking, "What's that all about?" And then I realize, "Oh, that's Smokey Robinson — that's right."
So despite cranking out tons of music with hectic schedules, Motown was a fun environment?
Oh, yeah. It was very loose in there, as far as creativity goes. The arranger goes in with the charts, but those were just guidelines. There's a funny story — one of the Funk Brothers, Eddie "Bongo" [Brown], was a crackup. The arranger would put a chart on his music, and Eddie would say, "Uh huh, fine." But he couldn't read a lick of music. He used his instincts, and that's what worked. It was not, "You've got to stick to the charts." Guitarist Robert White might say, "Maybe, if I played this a little bit differently, I could give more strength to the rhythm." We were always open to creative suggestions. You experiment to get the best track you can.
It seems like that's very evident in the playing of someone like bassist James Jamerson. His parts are rarely the same, especially on a song like Stevie Wonder's "For Once in My Life."
