Brian Doherty

  

The Gainesville Sessions–(The following post is a continuation of my January 5th posting).  In my opinion The Silos of the late 80’s/early 90’s were a one of a kind, rock ‘n roll band. The band’s music lay somewhere between The Stones, The Outlaws, and Gram Parsons.  I always felt that The Silos had unlimited potential and could have set the tone for a generation of guitar-driven rock bands.  Those of us involved with the band knew it outright.  Although our RCA record got great reviews, the way the Gainesville/RCA sessions unfolded was a complete disappointment.  The record was a dud.  The best recording of the band to this day is a series of live recordings, captured on tour by our soundman Joe Chinnici.  They’re not commercially released, but if you ever get your hands on them, you’ll hear for yourself.  This particular line-up of The Silos remained intact until 1992 and was a powerhouse on tour.  I stayed on a little longer (something I’m unfortunately prone to do) than did J.D. Foster and Bob Rupe, recording more tracks that ended up on subsequent Silos records.  My last tour with the band was a grueling six-week van tour of Germany, Austria, Spain and Switzerland.  The following is my story as the band’s drummer during this period and of our only major label recording. (Reprinted from the 1/5/10 posting, The Silos/Part 1.  It can be read here http://briandoherty.net/the-silospart-1/).

We lived in the town of Gainesville, Florida while recording The Silos, “The one with the bird on the cover.”  We recorded at an abandoned, downtown theater.  We set up our gear in a large circle in the center of the stage.  Looking out into the darkness of the house we could see silhouettes of the theater seats.  We occasionally moved our gear to the hallways and lobby for tracking and overdubs.  J.D. and I spent days tracking in the basement of the building, isolated from the rest of the band.  Not exactly the life Rock stars.

Gainesville is a huge college town and has one of the largest biking communities in the world.  I rode my bicycle to work at the Florida Theater every day.  We enjoyed long lunches at joints called Coney Island and Sonny’s Barbeque.  In my spare time, I took leisurely jogs and swam in the pool.  This is also where I taught myself how to type.  There was significant down time so I bought an instructional book and practiced typing every day.  At the time, it was one way to escape boredom.  I became a good typist during the Gainesville sessions and, to this day, am thankful for this skill.

I shared a condo with bassist J.D. Foster and producer Peter J Moore.  J.D. introduced me to some great music during this time.  I remember constantly listening to the first Lucinda Williams recording and to New York by Lou Reed.  Today, when I hear these tracks I’m transported back to the condo with its rented furniture and shag rug.

The Rehearsals

Rehearsing for a recording involves band practice, scrutiny of instrumental parts and lots of experimentation. It’s a collaborative effort and could be satisfying when improvements are made.  Hopefully, the music will sound better too.

None of that happened for us.  I knew we were in trouble when the only suggestion Peter Moore gave us was to jam and noodle a while before rehearsing.   The producer is supposed to be the band’s musical guide and beacon.  After the first day, it was clear that we had another engineer and no producer in our midst.  Rehearsals from then on consisted of running through songs from beginning to end.  After the last note of a song, the band would wait for some direction or opinion.  When none came, we’d run through the same song once again.  This was our rehearsal routine, and the songs suffered because of it.

Peter J. Moore

Before producing our record, Peter J. Moore worked with The Cowboy Junkies.  There was an industry buzz about his recording technique because he used only one microphone.  No multi-tracking and no overdubbing.  Peter accomplished this with a Calrec Ambisonic microphone.  This microphone was unique in that it hears in a 360 degree radius, as opposed to most mics which hear a single field at which they’re pointed.  The use of this microphone was the only trick up Pete’s sleeve.  He set it up in the middle of the stage, where it remained like an oracle.

Otherwise, there was never a clear objective, and the air around the band was always tense.  Walter became the man with the final musical say.  He simply said “no” to everything.  Takes that satisfied the band were garbage to Walter.  Suggestions regarding arrangements and orchestrations were dismissed with a condescending look that signaled “You just don’t understand.”

After a while, J.D. and I began challenging Walter’s musical judgment.  He then became vague, often citing obscure musical references just to make situations more confusing.  The whole scene was bullshit, and no one was saying anything.  Bob and Walter were not really talking.  Walter had asked for complete control, had gotten it.  However, he didn’t know what to do with it.  To make matters worse, he wasn’t confident enough to ask for input or admit his mistakes.  The recording was a complete disaster.  Eventually, the subtext of every musical conversation with Walter was: “Deal with it or I’ll replace you.”  He would no longer be challenged by any of us.

There were a few musically fulfilling days during our month of recording in Gainesville.  Walter had become ill and did not show up for work.  Predictably, the tracks we laid in his absence would be squashed by him the very next day.

Grasshopper and the Master.  Things came into focus when it was revealed that during college, Walter spent some time studying in Gainesville and had become close to a professor who also had a band call The Vulgar Boatmen.  Unbeknownst to us, Walter had viewed this professor as a mentor of sorts.  In a sense recording in this town was Grasshopper’s way of showing the Master he had completed his journey and was now a man of the world.  Oy vey! I felt duped by this narcissist.  Walter’s master lurked at our sessions.  Later on tour, The Vulgar Boatmen would be our opening act.

Walter finally got his way and replaced J.D. and me on two songs: Go out of Town (here’s a live performance of the song with me on drums: http://briandoherty.net/the-silos-well-go-out-of-town/ ) and Caroline. After days of Walter kyboshing take after take, he finally jumped on my drum kit one night after I left and ordered tapes to roll.  Miraculously, he approved both final takes.  When I found out, I wasn’t surprised; instead, I asked to be properly credited as playing only on the tracks I worked on.  Instead the credits list Walter AND me as the drummers ON THE ENTIRE RECORD!  (See the scan of album credits below.)  To the listener, there was no way to tell his drum tracks from mine. 

  

   

The Outcome

In spite of everything I’ve written I want to say that The Silos was one of the best and most unique bands I’ve ever been in. There wasn’t a weak song in our repertoire and the fans were beyond dedicated.  Live, the band was on fire and we had loads of fun travelling.  From a musician’s standpoint one couldn’t ask for anything more.  Before joining The Silos, I toured with jazz artists like Jonathan Butler, Lonnie Liston Smith and Noel Pointer.  Jazz was relatively new to me at the time and I learned a lot by playing it.  My musical roots, however, were strictly Southern Rock.  In high school I listened exclusively to Molly Hatchet, Blackfoot, Lynard Skynard and .38 Special.  The band that struck me the most was The Outlaws.  Two drummers, a wall of guitars and pop/country vocal arrangements were all I could have wished for.  The Silos music had many elements of Southern Rock.  Joining the band, especially after years of playing jazz, was like a homecoming.

 

 

That might explain why I expected the RCA record to capture the essence of the band and why I was so disappointed when I heard the final mixes.  Honestly, I thought the record was horrible.  It was nowhere close to how we really sounded.  The irony was that we hired a producer whose specialty was capturing the essence of bands by using one microphone.  Like an old Miles Davis record.  Even with our vintage gear and our “authentic” recording technique, we ended up with dud of a record.

As far as the interpersonal stuff is concerned, I want the reader to realize that this was nothing unique in our situation.  Every band goes through this crap.  Sometimes it’s just a matter of how well they put up with it and how long they can work around it.  I had already been in a bunch of other bands and had experienced run away egos and self-absorbed musicians.  This wasn’t just a great band; it was also a tremendous opportunity that we mishandled.  Otherwise, I was well prepared to handle tough situations as it related to my work in The Silos.  It’s unfortunate that our efforts were squandered and our hard work didn’t pay off.

 

 

 

     These were added 2/26/10, courtesy of Jim Johnson

Coming soon, the final blog of this series: School’s Out Tour, Who’s on Bass?, Good Press=Bad Sales, “Where’s Bob?” and Saved by Can You Fly.

Related links:

http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/album/137649/review/5943972/thesilos

http://briandoherty.net/the-silos-well-go-out-of-town/

http://briandoherty.net/the-silospart-1/