{"id":95549,"date":"2016-03-14T12:10:48","date_gmt":"2016-03-14T16:10:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=95549"},"modified":"2016-03-14T12:21:00","modified_gmt":"2016-03-14T16:21:00","slug":"you-can-still-hear-it","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/03\/14\/you-can-still-hear-it\/","title":{"rendered":"You Can Still Hear It"},"content":{"rendered":"

George Martin, 1926\u20132016.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

In the summer of 1971, I got a lift to Marblehead, Massachusetts, to audition for George Martin. It wasn\u2019t my idea. I wasn\u2019t ready; musically I was barely ambulatory, but my friend Dick Shapiro had dropped out of school a few months earlier and landed a gig with a mobile recording service who\u2019d set up shop in an old house on the Cape to record Seatrain. George Martin was producing, and had agreed to see me.\u00a0<\/p>\n

When Martin walked in, he filled the room. He was trim and neatly pressed, gracious, with just a hint of malice behind his poise, like an assistant principal making a surprise visit to the classroom. I got the sense that he\u2019d rather be sharpening pencils.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The room was in shadow, curtains still half drawn, though outside the window the sun was shining and pretty girls in kerchiefs were digging in the garden by the porch.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Martin looked me over and in a glance assigned me to the children\u2019s table. It happened as quickly as that.<\/p>\n

\u201cMost of the time you know way before someone plays a note,\u201d a label executive once told me. \u201cSomeone walks in the room and \u2026 just the way they carry themselves, the way they move, the light in their eyes or the way they take you in. You know if they\u2019ve got it. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred. Have I ever been surprised? Hell, yeah! This one time I had an artist walk into my office, and instantly I felt that this was someone special. Instantly. The way his hair fell over his eyes, this sort of bad-boy smirk, and I noticed that his jeans were badly torn, but his boots were neatly polished. There was a sense of careless decadence about him that was so cool that I was instantly designing the album cover in my head, I could already see the marketing campaign. It was that close. And then he pulled out a guitar and started to screech in this high, girly voice, like Tiny Tim with anger issues. It was terrible. I think I peed my pants.\u201d<\/p>\n

Martin listened politely as I worked my way through a couple of songs. And then he nodded and held his hand up.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cI think a cello would be good. Something low, under your singing.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should stay away from flutes,\u201d he advised, like a doctor warning a patient about carbonated beverages.\u00a0\u201cYou have an interesting voice … \u201d<\/p>\n

I brightened and looked up expectantly.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot necessarily a good voice,\u201d he cautioned. \u201cBut interesting. Avoid double tracking it. It\u2019ll smooth out all the edges.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut with the Beatles \u2026 \u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, yes, with George early on. Of course. We had to do\u00a0something<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJohn? \u2018No Reply\u2019? \u2018Every Little Thing\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh John\u2019s always hated the sound of his voice. He\u2019ll do anything to disguise it. Wants to sound like the Dalai Lama on the moon or a man inside a vacuum cleaner.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Paul? \u2018I\u2019m Looking Through You\u2019?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, they were calling the shots by then. Their call. Have you heard his solo record? No effects. So simple. So good to hear his voice like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded, and I stood up to put my guitar away. As I did, a few coins fell out of my pocket and clattered to the floor. I bent down to pick them up.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait,\u201d George Martin smiled. It was the first time I had seen him smile.\u00a0\u201cListen. You can still hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n

A\u00a0light metallic sound was hanging in the air.<\/p>\n

\u201cSee? The record isn\u2019t over yet,\u201d he smiled. And then he walked out of the room.<\/p>\n

Brian Cullman is a writer and musician living in New York City.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

George Martin, 1926\u20132016. In the summer of 1971, I got a lift to Marblehead, Massachusetts, to audition for George Martin. It wasn\u2019t my idea. I wasn\u2019t ready; musically I was barely ambulatory, but my friend Dick Shapiro had dropped out of school a few months earlier and landed a gig with a mobile recording service […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":375,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[27],"tags":[21516,21518,21517,8032,18135,21513,8357,20537,3208,13158,46,4693,21515,21514,8139,13375,3604],"class_list":["post-95549","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-in-memoriam","tag-abbey-road","tag-auditioning","tag-auditions","tag-first-person-2","tag-george-harrison","tag-george-martin","tag-guitar","tag-in-memoriam","tag-john-lennon","tag-memories","tag-music","tag-nostalgia-2","tag-paul-mccartney","tag-producers","tag-rock","tag-singing","tag-the-beatles"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWhen I Auditioned for George Martin: An Appreciation<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Brian Cullman recalls getting his shot with the famed Beatles producer in the midseventies.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/03\/14\/you-can-still-hear-it\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"You Can Still Hear It by Brian Cullman\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"March 14, 2016 \u2013 George Martin, 1926\u20132016.In the summer of 1971, I got a lift to Marblehead, Massachusetts, to audition for George Martin. 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