By Steven Zuckerman: Associate Producer of the Project and Creator of the Recording
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I was a young boy when I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. Experiencing Ed Sullivan introduce the Beatles, unlike other boys, I wasn’t interested in being in the band. I wanted to introduce great talent to the world.
After a long series of music industry seminars, an idea emerged to create a different kind of Awards show, one that would pay tribute to people whose contributions made the world a better place. And to introduce this concept, I decided it best to honor the Grand Daddy of all of them, Les Paul. A mutual friend spoke with him about the idea and I was invited to meet with him shortly thereafter. It was sometime in mid-1989, and we met at Fat Tuesday’s, an old stomping ground before his weekly gig was moved uptown to the Iridium.
Nevertheless, I was multitasking this evening, trying to feed my stomach while feeding my heart and soul in conversation with this master innovator, guitarist, pioneer and legend.
By the end of our conversation, he agreed to be a part of the show I planned to produce, and he and I struck up a friendship that would last about fifteen years. It was a few years later when I had the idea to create a record to honor his legacy while he was alive. While Les and I would talk about it, for some reason he really didn’t want to do it back then. It took a different turn about ten years later.
Creating Les Paul & Friends
It was a Wednesday night in August, 2004 when the phone rang. I could sense that the call was important, but it wasn’t a call from just anyone, and I could tell by the caller I.D. It was a call from my friend Les Paul.
I picked up the receiver saying “Hi Les,” to which the voice said, “No, it’s not Les, it’s Arlene.” Arlene’s the housekeeper, the woman who ‘looks after’ the pioneer of the electric guitar. She’s the woman that for over twelve years, has been joking with me that almost every time I call him, Les is having his pasta dinner. “It’s good for my heart,” he once told me.
“Let me get him,” Arlene said and within about ten seconds Les says in his very direct tone: “Steve, I’m being honored by the Emmy Awards and I want Paul McCartney to make the presentation. Can you get me his telephone number?” to which I replied, well, Les, I can do better than that. I’ll call his office tomorrow and see what I can do.
He and I chatted for about ten more minutes, and ten minutes was short. Most of our conversations would last for almost an hour. One could imagine the stories I’ve heard. How he introduced Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. How he got Sinatra signed to Capitol Records. Amazing material. Yes, it was amazing alright. And the next day would be the turning point in our relationship.
I called my friend Bill who worked for McCartney’s publishing company, MPL on West 54th Street in New York City. I told him of Les’ request to get to Paul. Bill and I chatted for a bit. I was asked how old Les was, and I said he’s 89. He will be 90 in June.
Bill asked if I could come into the office. I agreed. A meeting was set up for the following Wednesday morning. I immediately phoned my friend Bob Kranzlin, a film director and writer who was one of the few people I could trust. Bob and I sat having breakfast in NY the next day at the Westway Diner on 9th Avenue, the same diner where the TV series “Seinfeld” was created. Bob asked me two questions:
1. What are they doing for Les’ 90th Birthday? To which I replied, “Nothing!”
2. When was the last time he recorded? To which I replied, “A long, long time ago”
Sitting there over breakfast, I called McCartney’s “Point Man” and set up a meeting to discuss Les’s request for McCartney’s appearance. In the back of my mind, of course, was the record.
We arrived at the office on West 54th Street at around 10:30 a.m. The energy was electric. Bill sat behind his desk, and as we viewed his collection of gold and platinum records, boxing gloves signed by Mohammed Ali and autographed baseballs and footballs (Bill is an avid sports fan), the combined energy in the room gave the re-birth to an idea I had ten years prior, but with a twist since Les would be 90 in June. Bill assured me that somehow we could create a tribute record to Les for his 90th Birthday (and I wanted to see some of MPL’s publishing catalogue on the recording.)
I loved the idea and called Les that very next evening.
While I kept pushing him on the idea, Les kept pushing it aside, and instead asked me if Paul McCartney would call him. I told him how the meeting went. I told him that Bill would get the message to Paul, and Paul was on vacation, taking time away from his previous tour. While Les’s interest in the record was low, mine was quite high. I was determined to see this through.
The next day the phone rang. It was a friend of mine, a music publisher that I knew from my days producing music industry seminars. Bob Cutarella had worked for MCA Music Publishing and Hit List Publishing, had placed songs with a lot of talented performing artists. Bob needed a new break, and in a business that was evolving, so did everyone in the business including Les. Bob wanted to take my idea and produce the tracks, as I was a conceptual producer. I was not a studio guy.
I had agreed to produce a Les Paul tribute record, one to honor my friend. After all, all of the people in the room, all of the people on this new team, all met through my efforts.
Getting the First Meeting Down
Monday night, about three weeks later, I arrive to meet Bill, Bob, and Bob’s production partner, Fran Cathcart outside the Iridium nightclub on Broadway. We meet outside the venue and head downstairs after soundcheck to meet with Les to discuss the record. Les is more interested in getting McCartney to hand him an Emmy, and we pitch Les the record idea.
Les doesn’t seem all that interested in making a record, but I call him the next night trying to persuade him to think otherwise. “Steve,” he says, “I can pick up the phone and call any record company I want. What the hell do I need you guys for?” To which I responded: “Well, you’re the artist. We’re the creative team behind the artist.
“You’re waking up at 4 p.m. and half of the day is already gone. You need people around you to help you get the vision out. And to tell you the truth, most people don’t even know you’re alive, much less an artist who’s the pioneer of the guitar that bares your name. As Les became a little more interested, we couldn’t get his manager to return calls. Bill from MPL opted out of the discussions, and we had Bob trying to get a label interested in financing the project and releasing it, and I had to go to bat to get Les to agree to a meeting.
The meeting in California in November, EMI is into it.
Bob flew out to Los Angeles for a series of meetings. One of those meetings, with Phil Quartararo of EMI would result in significant interest. Bob called me from his cell phone later that afternoon. “Phil called me, and I’m at the airport,” Bob said. “He wants to make this deal happen.” I called Les that night. “Les, I believe we have the makings of a major deal for you, the type of deal that will get your name out to the world in a whole new way, all over again.
Are you interested?” “If you can bring down the President of the record company, I will be interested.” Faith and Hope is what we were riding on. I knew we could make this happen. I was nervous, but optimistic. We had a meeting set for Monday, December 6th, 2004. I called Les, and he was excited.
Me? I was more than excited. I was ecstatic.
I set up the meeting for Monday, December 6th at the Iridium.
I woke up realizing that today would be one of the most important days in my life. I’ve had the good fortune to become friends with a living legend. I wanted to see his story told and my intuition was told me that tonight was the night. I arrived at the Iridium around 5:45 to find my associates on their way to the venue.
I got down to a table that was reserved for us and as Bob, and Charles Carlini (the producer of the Carnegie Hall concert scheduled for June 19th) arrived shortly. Les looked at me and motioned to me to come over to him. As I proceeded to head over to him, he seemed excited. “Is he here,” Les asked of the President of EMI. “He will be here soon,” I told Les.
Les seemed very excited. It wasn’t just a deal that was going to happen, but somehow, we were about to create a project from thin air and see it materialize. It was four months after our very first meeting to discuss a potential project. Phil arrived at our table and had to exit quickly. He had a meeting or some sort of party with Jane Rose, the manager of Keith Richards to attend to, and he’d be back during the intermission between Les’ first show and his second. As we anxiously awaited his return, Phil arrived twenty minutes prior to the time Les had to get
back on stage.
I led the group to the dressing room. Les looked at me, asking “Is he here?” to which I replied: “Les, this is Phil Quartararo. Phil, this is my friend, Les Paul.”
They hugged each other. I introduced the concept of a tribute record. Phil’s mouth was dripping with excitement. By the time the thirty minute meeting was over, Phil and Les had become friends, and Phil said to us “Look! We’re just the pipeline to get it out. We want to release whatever it is that you want to create.” Les smiled and said “Jesus Christ! I started at Capitol Records and it took about ninety years to get back!”
We left the dressing room and took a private door out to the streets, as we didn’t want to bother people in the club. We were all excited. Phil headed back to his party, and Bob and I talked about the meeting. We knew it was early December, and with the Holidays coming up, we’d have to do what we could to keep this project alive on all fronts. We would have to keep Les happy and make sure the label was still interested. It was a crazy and hectic time for us.
Deal Offered
It was agreed that too much time elapsed between the time of the deal offer and the Holiday season, so Bob felt it important to go out to California to meet with the label and bought a round trip ticket thinking he would be there for a week. On the Wednesday after New Years’ Day, we had a conference call and we were all excited. The label was excited. Bob and I were excited. Charles was excited. The synergy was all working. It felt right. By the end of the conference call on there was no question that we were going to make a record. The only questions were: What songs would we record, and who would play on the songs?
Bob flew out to Los Angeles that Friday, and he and I had already discussed possible song selections. I asked my friend Jon as well as Bob Kranzlin for ideas, and as Bob and I would go through song ideas. I would invest most of my days and nights researching who else had cut each song. There were plenty of song titles that we researched, from the ARS song “So Into You,” to “It’s only Rock and Roll” to even “Stairway to Heaven.” It was an exciting time.
Bob parked himself in the President’s office, and we would talk every day, for the most part, with myself initiating the call. Every day was a new adventure, and as the excitement mounted, Bob would go to the Grammy Awards to hang out at the after party to pull in Joss Stone, Billy Gibbons, Jeff Beck and a host of others. Cyndi Lauper would record (the track didn’t make the record,) and I began working on promotional ideas, consulting with some of my guitarist friends, and looking deep within for some additional ideas.
We wanted to make this a spectacular project. Bob had this wonderful idea to cut a song called “Somebody Ease My Troublin’ Mind” with the Sam Cooke vocal, and Alan Klein of ABKCO said the only way we could get the vocal track was to get Eric Clapton to play on the song. Two weeks later, I’m on the phone with Bob who’s still in L.A., and I’m told that Clapton played on the track the day before. I cried. It was amazing to see that Eric Clapton was on the record, and I was one of the architects of the project.
It’s Monday night, and the Deal isn’t signed yet. We’ve already recorded a good portion of the rhythm tracks and while the label is totally committed, we still don’t have a signed contract. It’s Monday afternoon, and I’ve got the most horrible flu. I haven’t left my home in three days and I’m on the phone with Bob who told me that Phil had left three messages for Les, and Les still hasn’t returned a call. This is getting frustrating. Very frustrating. Here we are, going forward with what could be the project of our lifetime, total faith in the project, and the artist we’re honoring hasn’t returned the call.
I walked around my apartment, frustrated. I thought to myself, “What is the most productive thing I can be doing at this very moment,” and then realized I had to get that spirit back in me that led us to make the record deal in the first place. I called Bob. I said, “Bob, call Charles Carlini. Make sure he has a cell phone that works in a basement, get Phil to call Charles right before he goes on stage at the Iridium, say 7:30 p.m., make sure Charles has the paperwork, letters of intent, whatever, make sure that we get Les and Phil on the phone.
It worked. While I had the worst flu I’ve ever had, we figured out the best way to make this happen. The label deal was signed within a week. Even though there were numerous egos involved as well as logistical problems, the project was well worth the effort to pay tribute to a friend who enabled so many of us to make records as well as enjoy them.
