Reprinted from http://jazzwax.com
For producer George Martin, who died on March 8 at age 90, the first notes of a pop-rock song were everything. In those early make-or-break moments, a song's success depended on its opening hook. The intro wasn't about setting the mood, as in the old days, but about artfully catching the ear and compelling teens to spend money they didn’t have on records they couldn’t live without. No one had Sir George's pop gut or vast musical skills, and when the two were combined, the results dazzled the imagination.
In August 2012, I flew over to the U.K. to interview Sir George for the Wall Street Journal at his country estate in the Cotswolds, about two hours northwest of London. The changeable skies during the drive was a preview of autumn, but the air was still warm and the light golden. When I pulled up the drive and stopped in front of Sir George's 18th-century summer home, the man himself came striding out with his wife, Lady Judy, and Adam Sharp, a founder of CA Management. I handed Lady Judy cookies from Harrods, which turned out to be a good choice, since she loved them.
What struck me immediately about Sir George was his relaxed manner and his eyes. I had never seen eyes that blue. They were a rich aquamarine, almost the color of swimming pools. What also was interesting about his eyes is how they looked at you with curiosity rather than judgment. They were producer's eyes, full of eager expectation about what lay around the corner but also trained to gain control and impose rules on whatever unfolded. Sir George's genius, ultimately, was his love for the artist who had something special to say and his respect for the person on the other end who would be listening to it. For Sir George, both were equally important and needed to be considered before and during the recording process.
We strolled the grounds for a bit and chatted before deciding to do the interview in a gazebo up a slight hill on his spacious back lawn. Despite wisps of clouds sailing here and there, the sun remained strong and the air was soft. For the next two hours, we sat at a table in the round wooden shelter and talked about Produced by George Martin (Eagle Rock), a documentary that was due at the time, as well as a host of questions I had for him about his work for the Beatles and other artists.
Just as I switched on my two digital recorders, Sir George leaned into one and said in that famed posh voice, "Hello, hello, hello, testing one, two three, four," ending with a laugh. Sir George went to work for EMI's tiny Parlophone label in 1950 and first heard a demo of the Beatles in 1962. Upon hearing them for the first time in the studio, the lads were a hot mess. Good songs, hard-charging personalities but uneven execution. But the band's confidence and charisma were admirable and Sir George signed them up in June 1962. [Photo above of Cilla Black and George Martin in 1965 by David Magnus/Rex Features]
By the following year, through hard work, the Beatles became a polished band with musical gifts that exceeded their good looks. Paul McCartney saw to that. But they didn’t know quite how to start a song, at least not for the chart-driven market. Fortunately, they were good listeners and fast learners, especially after their first U.K. hit, Please, Please Me, in early 1963, with its opening two-note bass upbeat, which had the sound of a diving board after a diver sprang off of it. Many of those openers on the Beatles' singles came at the suggestion or direction of Sir George.
A year later, in 1964, the Beatles were earning a fortune on the songs that Sir George was producing, yet Sir George was still earning a pittance. Realizing that he would have to leave EMI to start his own production company to make a go of it, Sir George started to raise cash by forming his own easy-listening orchestra and recording albums of Beatles songs. Once he launched Associated Independent Recording (AIR) in 1965, the orchestra revenue came in handy.
During our conversation, Sir George tensed up twice. He bristled when I told him how much I loved the Beatles' Magical Mystery Tour and asked what he thought of it. "Magical Mystery Tour was rubbish," Sir George said, laughing at the audacity of such a thought. "Well, it wasn’t really rubbish, of course, but it wasn’t a complete studio album, as Sgt. Pepper had been."
The second bit of heavy sledding came when I asked about Let It Be, the Beatles' last album in 1970 and the only one Sir George hadn't produced. He was still pained that John Lennon had turned on him, insisting the Beatles record without overdubbing or any of the common studio techniques used on previous albums. The process turned out to be torture, with upward of 50 takes on some songs, and the result was shelved. Then Lennon took the master reels to Phil Spector, who produced what we hear today. Sir George never quite forgave Lennon for that.
After the interview, we joined Lady Judy in their home's sun room and had tea while nibbling on cookies. Sadly, Sir George's hearing was pretty far gone from overexposure to blasting monitor speakers in his studio (he used two hearing aids), but had been writing music on his computer using special software. Sitting side by side, he played some of it for me, listening to the music I heard by watching the score unfold on the screen. We talked about a range of things, including our mutual fondness for gin martinis.
To this day, I recall every minute of that afternoon in the English countryside talking about the Beatles, Cilla Black, Gerry and the Pacemakers, America, John McLaughlin and so many other artists Sir George produced. What all of their recordings had in common was taste and a restless need to seduce the ear instantly so the melody, harmony and arrangement that followed would be more fully engaged by the listener.
Sir George's sense of humor also stands out clearly from that day in August, along with his deep, authoritative laugh. He had a way of combining wisdom and whimsy that put you instantly at ease. After I told Sir George that I actually enjoyed his instrumental albums of Beatles songs and that I had them all, he seemed surprised anyone knew about them, which turned into mild embarrassment: "I’m glad you like them. You’ve made me feel much better. On the other hand, it shows you’ve got appalling taste." I can still hear the hearty laugh that followed.
To read my Wall Street Journal interview with Sir George, go here.
For a solid obit of Sir George in the U.K.'s Telegraph that Colin Goodall of England's Montpellier Records sent along yesterday morning, go here.
Here's one of my favorite clips of Sir George, on his way to Brian Wilson's house in Los Angeles to chat about Brian's God Only Knows...
Used with permission by Marc Myers
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