THE 4 SEASONS

THE 4 SEASONS

Jack Adams: Engineer, Producer, Musical Director, and partner of Tom Wilson, Independent Record Producer.

In New York recently I went to visit Record Plant, a small recording studio on West 57th Street. I knew not that I was walking into the lair of Tom Wilson. Tom Wilson has the reputation, given to him by people who know what they are talking about, of being the best independent record producer in the business. Upon telling Tom about this feature, he directed me into the mixing room towards Jack Adams, his partner and associate with the words “Talk to him, man. He is the Best!!”

A recommendation from Mr. Wilson is not one to be taken lightly so I stepped in and introduced myself and my aims whereupon we left for a nearby bar, there to consume one of the finest Gaelic coffees in New York, each. The tale of how a 27-year old comes to be in the eerie position which Jack occupies is a strange one and I feel that the best way to describe Jack is merely to repeat his story.

“At age 17 years, I was a mechanic at a gas station in Pennsylvania, when a friend of mine who played in an orchestra died rather suddenly, leaving a wife and some $50,000 worth of recording equipment. Bearing in mind that at the time, I knew nothing about recording anything, my friend’s wife suggested that I buy the equipment and set up a recording studio. I had $1,000 saved which I laughingly offered as a purchase bid. The good lady, evidently largely hampered by the equipment, accepted.

“So, here I am, a young man with my own recording studio and not a hope in the world of functioning successfully. But, at this time, in the area, there were many religious groups who held moving and powerful meetings. I called up the head priests, with the idea that I would bring my

equipment to these meetings and record them. I would then have my engineers (ahem!) edit the tapes and send them and have record albums made from them which I would then package in a nice jacket and sell to them for $2.00 each.

“The priests fell completely for this line, so I next found a somewhat “friendly” record producer and said “Look, I’m going to bring you these godawful tapes and you are going to make records of them and sell them to me in jackets for 22 cents.” The record manufacturer saw, cleverly, that something was afoot and upon finding the full story out, said, “You are insane enough to make us both very rich so not only will I do it, but I will pay you $150 per week to sit and come up with more ideas like that.”

“I bought my albums for 22 cents, having cost the manufacturer about 6 cents each, and sold them

for two bucks apiece to the priests, who autographed them and sold them to the believers among the congregation for eight dollars each.

“All were happy until me and my newly acquired boss had a disagreement and I picked the recording knowledge from the brains of the other man, and in two years know exactly where recording is at. Then followed a rapid succession of self-promotions to head engineer of a fine studio in New York. One evening, I tired of my position and my possessions (Cadillac, $250/month apartment, and huge income) at 9:30 p.m. and by 10:15 that same night I had sold everything and boarded a plane for Miami, there to be a bum on the beaches.

“After two years of spending, I was broke and took a job riding motorcycle stunts in a circus. But someone stole my cycle and to pay off what was owed on it, I returned to New York to become a “sound” man once again.

“A friend asked me many times over the ensuing period if I would build, and work in, a recording studio for him, but I refused, still certain that the recording studio was not my natural surroundings. My friend said that he would build the studio himself, but that I would eventually have to work for him because he would make his offer so tempting that it would be impossible to refuse. Tom Wilson became connected with the studio, now called Record Plant, and Tom had become friends with me some time before. My friend made good his story, and I became Tom’s partner in Record Plant.’

The studio now had two of the finest men, of their trade, in the country within its confines and Record Plant became “The studio”. Tom’s instinctive good taste and good judgment combined with Jack’s knowledge attracted many top-rank performers. Groups such as Cream and Traffic have visited and stayed. Hendrix cut “Electric Lady Land” there. Because of the “home comforts” and very relaxed atmosphere which abides there, these artists and others of their caliber and financial power look upon Record Plant as their New York apartment. Both Tom and Jack are now veteran recording engineers and producers; their services are expensive and worth it. Jack Adams is, at 27, a self-made man and a person of striking intelligence, a fine engineer and producer, a man who knows what he wants now, but accepts that he will probably change his mind, tomorrow.

Before all you so-called “hip people” start chuckling at the mention of the Four Seasons, just remember that the Seasons were the innovators of the close harmony utilised by the Beach Boys and The Mamas and Papas which might not be your bag of sound, but that’s no reason to knock it as untalented bopper music.

So for some years the Four Seasons produced nothing but “Greatest Hits” type albums and they were less that unheard of. Well, “Imitation Life Gazette” is not going to stone everyone out of their minds or revolutionize the whole music industry. However, what the album sets out to do is done exceedingly well and with creativity and taste which one would not have thought possible from such “unheard of’ artists, who were reportedly just living on their name and savings.

The Four Seasons have, on this album, taken a good look at the world around them, including themselves and cataloged each thought as it entered them and how it was modified by their own intricate opinions — hence the title.

As it is difficult for me to show you how the album sounds, you may receive an impression of the change in views if I write some of the words, both from the songs and from the album cover which is in the form of a tabloid, including the comix.

Tomorrow’s news in breif:

A Black man with a white voice reports a race riot.

Hey Boy — you’re supposed to call me “Mister”.

People rubbing elbows — but never touching eyes.

It should have been enough; what she was giving me. Look up — it’s over.

Deaths Cream

Mamas and Papas Rooftop Singers

Her eyes are closing to the sun!

It certainly is a step up from “Sherry Baby”.

The lyrics to most of the songs are written by Jake Holmes and are reprinted on the cover in the form of articles in the newspaper.

I advise you to read along with the songs.

The music is mainly written by Bob Gaudio of the Seasons which dispels the teeny-bop theory that Freeky Valli was the major talent in the group. Gaudio also does some fine arrangements on this record.

In fact, if the Moody Blues had released this album is would have been hailed as the most important mind-boggler since Sgt. Pepper’s. However, it’s the Four Seasons. At least make sure when you hear it that you listen.