A few months ago I received an email from Mark Dean asking if I would be interested in reviewing the new album by Tim Morse. One thing led to another, and we soon found ourselves in daily email contact with each other talking about dogs, our own life experiences etc. From these conversations Mark then asked if I would be willing to conduct an interview with him, and the resulting conversations over the next few months are related below. It is a great story, from someone who has followed the path of his heart and has been able to support himself through his craft while never becoming well-known outside of a close circle. This story epitomises to me what love of music is all about – it’s not about becoming famous and making millions of dollars, but doing something that is true to the individual. I have never forgotten an interview that I did with Clive Nolan about twenty years ago (in a pub – somehow all of Clive’s interviews, bar one, have taken place in a pub) where he said that his proudest achievement was that he had been able to support himself through music, with no reliance on benefits or outside assistance. Here is the story of someone with very similar ideals.
Mark has a great life-story to share, and I urge you all to read this. As Mark and I have commented to each other frequently, it has been a hell of a ride.
What are your earliest musical memories, and what inspired you to start learning a musical instrument?
- My earliest waking musical memories first employed other senses than the audible. The smell and sight of the grill of a Fender combo guitar amp, the sparkle of red metal flake and chrome hardware of a drum kit towering over me like some city.
My parents were just able to support a family of 5, primarily gigging 3 to 5 nights a week with their various bands in the region, back when that was doable. They played what is now 70’s classic rock and moved into country which was also more prevalent in the paying venues. Good times. There was encouragement and shared understanding and a bit of tolerance I’m sure when I started up. At the same time, my brother had an extensive album collection consisting mostly of all the progressive rock and founders of metal coming out of Britain.
I don’t remember being inspired to learn drums, because these are not just my first musical memories - they’re some of my first memories ever as I hit pots & pans with wooden spoons. I learned that if I hit the leather foot stool with the tip of a drumstick with the right hand, it would sound deeper, like a kick drum, and flat and flush with the left would snap like a snare. But, I do remember what made me want to play guitar, that was hearing ‘Made in Japan’ by Deep Purple and later seeing a broadcast of them play for 250,000 at Cal Jam in ‘74. That got me jumping off the bed with a baseball bat or the top of a mic stand for a guitar at about age nine.
How old were you when you started gigging, what sort of music were you playing, what were your biggest inspirations at the time?
- The first rooms playing for an audience, aside from my 2nd grade school talent show with my sister, would be the occasional set in with my parents in clubs on drums, playing Bad Co, CCR, Edgar Winter, and ZZ Top from the Live Fandango days. Once at 7 years old, and a couple at 9, but more from 10, 11 and from then on. This went on for decades in one incarnation or another.
When I was 14, I founded my own band called Invasion in ‘77. I had moved into guitar for about 4 years by then and that’s what I played. It was kinda tricky because we were too young to play clubs but we played nearly every weekend wherever we could. Fairgrounds, down town streets, and we played a few festivals and public access TV. We did this until early 1980.
But, the best ones were the private property parties and the industrial buildings where we’d throw them or get invited to play. Most of the time we’d get shut down by the police as kids scampered and jumped fences. I’d always greet them and promise it’s over unless it was far too late for that. This happened enough times for me to be addressed by them on a first name basis. These were some pretty wild shows. We got a lot of intense energy from the crowds because we involved them so much. It was pretty raw. Aside from the antics, shenanigans, homemade pyro and lasers that would only show up when we blew smoke with the rest of the lights out, ritualistic offering up and out of rock and roll blessed and broken guitar pieces played that same song, and some indecent exposure, (It wasn’t that bad. The cut offs were just cut too high) I think the thing that would keep it going was the fact that we had no PA and therefore, no singer. We meant to get to that, but the audiences became the vocalist. And anytime we’d go to introduce a singer, the crowd would be polite, but chastise us later for it. They wanted the part and they got it.
We were young and very cocky and would arrive with sirens and procession and there were all these self appointed assistants who’d always seem to be there at the right time., like when I threw the body of a guitar out into the crowd at an outdoor gig. At one of the bigger gigs there were 3000 in attendance, but not when we played. We opened at about 10 or 11:30 in the morning, so I could find a bald spot to throw the guitar without conking someone. But it was high noon and the sun was up. It was one of our own helpers that caught the guitar or rather, was caught through the hand by the truss rod sticking out of the wood. All I saw was the sun when it left my hands. At the end of the show, my drummer Vince threw out his sticks and one just happen to hit the head of one of the players in the band that followed us. All I saw after stepping down from the stage was the fountain in the pond, so I hit that. Upon returning to the back, I see Vince being threatened by a crew member of the band just about to go on, about the drum stick caper, when ahead of me blows forth the one who caught my guitar and the sight and sound ripping vest of the cat in Vince’s face, as he’s being lifted off the ground to get a blood spattered face as our guy here points his red hand and says, “You ain’t doin nothing” Most of the gigs were wild, but fun wild. Another kind of wild.
We played about 1/3 my own songs, which sounded something like the live Pat Travers album ‘Go For What You Know’, and the Rainbow ‘Rising’ album. The covers were Zep, AC/DC, Queen, UFO, The Tubes, Cheap Trick and, the Munsters.
At the time, my biggest inspirations were theatrical or larger than life acts like Alice Cooper and Kiss. These were some of the first concerts I’d ever seen, so I thought all shows would be as bombastic. I was also floored by Cheap Trick in 77. I always liked the ones that would make ya feel kinda sick at first. I’m glad you ask “What” were the biggest inspirations instead of, “who”.. I suppose that’s why I think of more aspects than just the music itself. I always say, a good lightshow makes it sound better. But, it was also during this time, ‘Hemispheres’ by Rush hit my ears. And I also saw Kansas play the last tour with the original line-up. I was becoming intrigued by odd time, ploy rhythms and breaks. I wanted to start writing and performing something I called, Excessive Aggressive Possessive Progressive. I would soon need to embark on a search for new players, hone my craft a bit and, um, cool out for sec.
What happened next? I am really interested in understanding how you moved from strong "good times" rock 'n' roll to more progressive influences, what caused that change, and what it meant in terms of band dynamics etc.
- The prog influence was an adaptation, although this time was the beginning of my deepest interest in prog when it came to my writing. But life was indeed changing. I was now about age 17-18 and the life I was leading didn’t leave much time for extended reflection. I wasn’t quite ready to fly the coop yet and my parents moved to the country and I followed for a couple years, which was a culture shock for me coming from the city life in the Bay Area of Northern California to looking out a window and seeing black. I’ve always gravitated to the nocturnal. And my Mom & Dad were still gigging while at home, I did everything from play air guitar… to ponder what occurs in extended silence. Not a scenario most kids would volunteer for, but I’d recommend it for bit.
After a season or two of howling at the moon, I started up with songs of passion and longing and the inevitable reflection. I was already into prog by then, but I was also attracted to concept pieces. I was finding it easier to say something outside of the confines of three verses. To be honest, the lyrical content of the artists I liked the most, continued to speak new meanings as I got older, even though I always knew the words. Lyrics were generally my last point of focus in both my music and what I listened to. That is less the case these days.
It was the ensembles and larger than life fantasy depicting very real things about life. But, even in my purely rocking day there, I always went for the theatrical and spectacle and ethereal artists, like Alice Cooper. But Prog had a means to deliver this in a way I always thought could use more, probably because they had to keep their eye on what they were playing. :-) I’m just gonna say Kate Bush real fast. She continues to inspire me to this day. My first impression of her was the ‘Live Hammersmith’ in 79. There weren't very many at that time, putting so much back into the presentation. There wasn't as much technology then, so everything was performance based. 17 costume changes, rose petals for blood and such. I've always been enamoured with it. I can't leave a Rush show, without feeling a little better for being a human. Dream Theater was the kind of thing that 10 years before hearing, I'd walk the street imagining this music and laugh, thinking it was beyond human ability. That floored me. I can't help but feel I should be more up on what's out there, like you. There are artists I love that few have heard of, but most are the great founders that kicked the door open for those who dare to dream.
As for band dynamics, I was lucky enough to find my first keyboard player right in this otherwise abyss of a town. We spent a year and a half taking the patterns in the air that for me was the geography of music and put a verbal terminology to what I can then relate to others as music theory. Vince, my drummer back in the bay, decided to switch to bass and bought a Ricky. I said, good luck with that and it’s been a fun 5 years. Three weeks later, he was out here playing my prog originals while my mom taught him scales and rudiments. I couldn’t deny that, since it was a three hour drive. And I must admit, I awaited at that black window for those headlights
But, we needed a drummer. It was me and Vince and John every weekend and one day I get a call and Vince goes, “You gotta check this guy out!” We set up an audition where I’d drive down to do just that. We talked all about the things one does when it’s safe to assume that it’s a given he could play. We go into the basement and this kit reminded me of the ones I use to build from pots and pans at 4 years old. I said that’s cool. But he nutted up and kept freezing. After some mollycodling I asked if he could play the intro to “When the Levy Breaks”, he could not. “Rock Candy”? Nope. Vince would not even look at me. A couple weeks later, Vince is back at my place and from the floor in his sleeping bag I hear a suspicious rhythm. I say, Vince? And he goes, “I’ve been working with Greg on your songs. I think we should give him another chance.” He assured me he would not bring him out here, (Which was the condition) until he was ready. Then he said he would sell him his drum kit for $3k, which Greg would pay off in drunken dares. He came out with a mission. Greg was left handed so when we’d sit facing each other in chairs playing air drums and mouthing the parts, it was mirror image. Vince had led the snare line in Vanguard so he’d work Greg on chops and roots, while I showed the songs and taught acrobatics with the stick and quadruplets with kicks.
He worked so hard on it that one night, we studied his twitchings and hand tappings above his head as he lay face down on the floor asleep after the questionable volume of drill, that was the regimen and we were able to ID my parts. But he was the first to fall asleep that night so as he lay but two feet from my Marshall Stack, I unwound the 100 foot cord and we went outside and shut the door. We can hear the warm hiss of the tubes and he was initiated into the band. We just thought the delayed reaction was strange as he levitated in a single, even, cartoon like spring. They tried to get me back as I was always the last to wake up. That was the rule. But a fist doesn’t work on a gong so well. And you’re supposed to warm it up first before striking with the mallet. But I still knew it was time for eggs.
Then, came the day when Greg rolled up my driveway, but two car doors opened. And out stepped the one who would become my first wife. Greg said, here’s your singer. I walked down the stairs and scooped her up and carried her into the house. Now, It’s John, (Keys) Vince, (Bass with 2.5 months experience) Greg (1.5 years) and Tracy (Her first band) learning and playing my compositions based on my deepest prog influences.
Other musicians would attend our rehearsals and we always loved it when they’d ask “How long have you been playing?” I’d go 14 years. John 17, and so on. They tried to steal our little projects. But they all had enormous heart.
This band never made it out of the rehearsal studio. But, they all grew wings and at one time or another, I had the pleasure assisting them with their own bands throughout the years with demos and live. Tracy and I had a six month run with her living out here, but we both had some growing to do, just yet. We later went on to make music together for five years and she would first return by my invitation, along with Mike (bass from the old band) and Greg together with John for a session with me. A one-off in my first experience in a recording studio. We did a song called “Obstacles” in ‘83. I still have it.
I also went to a studio by myself to record all parts for six songs, but ran out of money by the time I had finished the drum and bass tracks. The days of recording into a battery operated cassette toy and then placing a mic between the playback and my amp were over. I needed a means to sketch pad the songs if for no other reason than to illustrate.
I bought a little four track porta-studio and as I cut my teeth on this two things were happening. I was developing a well-defined idea of what I wanted, left to my own devices while finding it easier to track it than convey it to other musicians. Although I continued to try in what was a search for players that served as a fine way to measure the passing of time, I also felt the need to get on my feet with it all. I had to start figuring out a way to get more serious about the way I could give music the required attention as adult life continued to greet me.
How old were you at the time that you bought your first studio? I am guessing about 20? Your last sentence is the next question, how did you decide to get more serious? What did that mean on a personal and musical level? How did you start managing to achieve your goals?
- Correct. I was just turning 21 when I started going to conventions and meeting some of the people I was interested in and at this time I’d sketch out plans and ideas about what I wanted, but would learn over the following couple years that I needed to not only educate myself on some industry fundamentals, but also the things that books don’t teach. So, my concept of what it really took just to do a thing on my own end, was not rooted in the kind of experience I was about to have. But at this time, I didn’t even know that. All I knew was what I wanted. I’d set out on a six month plan that ended up taking two years.
I was never really a “jammer” - there have been exceptions and the first of those were a group of jazz fusion studio shut ins 10 years my elder, who I’m happy to have met. These were trade-offs in chairs in a recording studio called Euphonics. Everyone really listened to each other and complemented each others’ playing. The cat who built the studio was not a musician but was the founder/engineer very committed to this group. They all left in time to build their own home studios and the only one left was Russell. I could have put together a slightly better home studio than the one I already had, but thought to approach Russ with the idea that I’d upgrade his place with a key component that would command twice what he was charging at the time, in exchange for use of the studio on non-booked nights.
We were getting on well and I came at a time when he was kinda phasing out of the business just as I was getting into it. I wheeled in the 400 pound 2” Ampex MM-1100 16 track and it was the ideal situation for me at the time, cause I had no financial overhead and wasn’t ready for one yet. He had a new found enthusiasm and served as a fine mentor to me. He was doing printed circuitry at the time, which paid more, so before long he’d say, “Can you take this session for me on Wednesday?” which became every Wednesday. He started to show up less and less and I was commissioned with more and more, until most clients who had never met Russ thought I was the owner.
We agreed on a % that he’d get for the house and every other week, he’d have his coffee can full of money. He’d come get it and split, or hang out for hours showing me more about what can be done. This went on for a year and a half and then one day a larger offer came in that I felt I had to call Russ for. He turned it down because it was not a good time for him to take it on. So, the next time that happened, I did take it on. In the same week I made that deal, Russ informed me that he was moving to LA. I was set to invest more into the studio, with a larger surplus than I had ever seen until then, but I was now faced with having to turn down the gig, or go independent. This turned out to be my first client in the first studio I would be solely responsible for. This was Audio Portrait Productions.
That was fine, for that gig, and did get it going. This also came when I was hooking up with my 2nd wife and first love, Darla. She became my partner in these days. It would take six months of renting the other half of the studio as rehearsal space before we could build a client base. This was commitment, because we also lived in this industrial building. Here was the first time I was making money and paying bills. When things were hard, Darla would say “You’ll look back at these days with great fondness.” I said, you must be joking, but she was right. We rocked it.
Musically and personally, I was very happy. This was when I found my specialty of providing production and instrumentation for one off songwriters and artist who had no band. We recorded bands too, but this was my gig and would be for decades.
But as for my own music, I had two main goals. The first was to use what was now a suitable venue to develop “real” recordings of my work and to also learn how to deliver the same on time and budget. This was very challenging to me. I didn't have the luxury of working on any one project at a time, and therefore found it hard to gauge how long it really took, as opposed to a lockout environment. But after about three years, I was getting the hang of it. That is, until two things happened almost at the same time. The building Russ used to run had been taken over by another studio. When they moved out, I had a chance to move the studio to that building, which had superior renovations, or it would be gutted for the next lease. I took it. Shortly thereafter my then wife Darla, took me for a walk and announced we will be having a new arrival to the fold. I was going to be a dad.
We knew we’d need a home out of these industrial sites. But, I had just signed not only the new lease, but my second 5 digit deal with a client for production of an album. By this time, my parents after 35 years of gigging had split up and we could buy the land in the country. In the following year, I’d become a homeowner, have a son and accept the required task of building not just a new studio, but the actual facility. We bought the place, but I’d have to stay behind in the bay area for the next year while Darla moved to the country and set up there with the assistance of my Mom and new mate Dave, who also lived there for a year until I could make it out and then some. My mom and Dave were starting a construction business and we were all still green enough to miscalculate the time and money to do this, but there was enormous support in the assistance with the building and a lot of blood to get it together. We made it about half way there by the time I wanted them to focus on their new business. This they did and made success and are together now. I love them, and my dad too. A lot of very talented kids were never told they can do a thing and then believe that. Some can channel a rebellious energy to prove their way into rocking the world, which many embrace as rock & roll, but for me this was not the case. I just have to say that, man. Lots of love.
So, we're out in the country and now comes, the fine art of bartering. We had the materials covered but I need hands. I could offer studio time. Hmmm... All I need is someone who is both a musician and a carpenter! :-D I was 29 now and would need to handle the business with the head start I had gained having Darla as a partner while she made a home for us with our new ball of life. And I was no carpenter, yet. After saying ‘No thank you’ in mid handshake upon meeting about 40 contenders, I met Jim, Bill and another Frank. These guys made my 30s. We not only built the place, but became good friends through trying times for us all.
The thing about working relationships in my line of work, is that you’re involved with people’s dreams. One time when I was getting three wisdom teeth pulled, they had given me the dope and although I don’t remember, I was later told that when they asked me what I did for a living, I said “I make people’s dreams come true”. The intensity and trust of an artist’s shared work can often be mistaken for a friendship. Although I have had many return clients, the ones you know are a true friends are the ones you see again after the project is over. Out of about 500 I can still count on maybe, two hands by now, those I count among them. We had a good time and were there for each other.
So, studio is up and I’ve got these eyes looking at me with waving fingers on his lips going BBBBBBbbbbbbbb and smiling. Holy shit, I’m a dad! Here be, the personal level.
Ya know, when Vince and I were young with Invasion, we’d look at guys with a house and kid and wife and say “You’ve had it, you’re done”. And there’s an obvious truth to that, if a single ambition is to abandon and compete with those who can jump the wind. My dreams of whisking Darla off in a bus and such as I would bestow, is not the life I’ve come to write about, as much, any more. All my life I’ve been taught in the field that the very reason for doing a thing is the death of a dream.
I caught myself going through some kind of pre-midlife crisis birdshit, thinking ‘Oh well, I guess this is my destiny. No more surprises for me…’
It ain’t all fluff, but I found reasons for braving the seemingly insurmountable right in the art. And meanings for which I may never be able to express with words. As by now, I had seen the music industry undergo three changes, so went any pre-conceived notion of what this is all about. The things I always thought of as being the curse of an artist had become my biggest blessing. So, we had many more wonderful years as the 3 stooges that were my family. The years flew by.
Darla and I amicably parted about three years ago, after 19 years married. 27, knowing each other. We had grown apart over the later years as did our lives and we were not appealing to the better parts of each other, but we knew better and could not deny the epic years and deep love. As we rarely denied each other of anything, we opted for whatever is most conducive to quality of life and comfort over any other idea. Her life is a bit quieter than mine. We’ve actually shared more with each other since the shorter years prior as family and friends and communicate better. We’ve been to heaven and hell and back and laugh like a couple of buzzards. Life is hard out here and she deserves a simpler one. There is no woman I have ever loved more. She is, the lovely, amazing and very beautiful Darla.
We laid it down in life together and produced our best friend in all the universe and that is our son, Levi. Wonders galore for me in the learning of how to live in the present moment. He’s getting just about 20 years of age now, so I guess you just asked a 20 year question. I’m sure I left a few things out. Somewhere in the middle there, I met the one who came to be my longest running working relationship indeed. And the best example of client/friend I’ve ever known. That’s without a doubt, Tim Morse. Enter progressive rock production. This was also the first time when making the best album we could, was paramount.
