Tell me why you’re crying, my son

In 1968-69, I was learning how to play guitar as a middle schooler. The songs my friend Ben Beard and I chose to learn and memorize were acoustic guitar-based with tight harmonies: a lot of Simon and Garfunkel, some Beatles and several by Peter, Paul and Mary.

Peter Yarrow, Paul Stookey and Mary Travers in 1962

We were especially fond of three songs PP&M played: the old spiritual “If I Had My Way,” their #1 hit written by John Denver, “Leaving On a Jet Plane,” and especially Peter Yarrow‘s rousing antiwar anthem “Day Is Done,” with its lyrics that balanced angst with hope: “Do you ask why I’m sighing, my son? You shall inherit what mankind has done, /In a world filled with sorrow and woe, if you ask me why this is so, I really don’t know, /And if you take my hand, my son, all will be well when the day is done…”

So the news that Yarrow had died of cancer January 6th at age 86 tugged a bit at my heartstrings. Although the righteous folk music that was PP&M’s specialty had largely fallen out of favor in the late ’60s as rock music took over, I always thought highly of their marvelous voices and strong passion for the noble causes of peace and civil rights, and counted the trio among my early influences.

Yarrow, Paul Stookey and Mary Travers first joined forces in Greenwich Village in 1961 amid a thriving folk music club scene there, populated by the likes of Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie and a then-unknown Bob Dylan. Indeed, it was Dylan’s then-manager Albert Grossman who saw their individual talents and commercial appeal and brought the three artists together. They hit a home run right out of the box with their self-titled Grammy-winning debut LP, which reached #1 and included folk standards like “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” “500 Miles,” “Lemon Tree” and “If I Had a Hammer.”

Yarrow recalled in 2009, “I had a very strong sense of purpose at that time. Mary never believed this would go much further than a year or so. Paul also was doing it on a temporary basis. But I had a different concept. Our voices, singing the way we were singing … I felt that we were carrying on a tradition that would be very important in terms of what was happening in the world. I really felt that we had something important to share.”

Some conservative factions in those days saw subversive meanings in popular music lyrics where none existed, and one of the first to face such criticism was Yarrow’s children’s tale, “Puff the Magic Dragon.” Ludicrously called out for being all about illicit marijuana use, “Puff” was nonetheless an enormous hit, reaching #2 in the US and a Top Five entry in four other countries. Yarrow always maintained that the song “never had any meaning other than the obvious one — the loss of innocence in children, and the hardships of growing older.” It went on to inspire three animated TV specials in the late ’70s and early ’80s, and a book adaptation.

Partly due to Grossman’s influence, Peter, Paul & Mary recorded and had huge chart success with original songs by Dylan, most notably “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right.” The trio famously performed the former song at the legendary March on Washington in 1963 when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech, and the lyric’s focus on questions about peace, war and freedom pushed it, and PP&M, to the forefront of the civil rights movement.

“It was so incredibly powerful, that moment,” Yarrow said years later. “Washington was a segregated city at that time. Here we were in our nation’s capitol, where we proclaimed with others that there was liberty and justice for all, and yet there still separate drinking fountains for blacks and whites. Mary later told me, ‘Do you remember when we were standing there listening to the speech? I took your hand, and I said, ‘Peter, we are watching history being made.””

The trio, and especially Yarrow, took on leadership roles as activists and as musicians, joining the board of the Newport Folk Festival, organizing the 1969 March on Washington and pushing for liberal candidates and causes for decades afterwards, including Barack Obama’s presidency and the National Hospice Movement and the Operation Respect anti-bullying campaign.

But Yarrow was apparently a complicated man, and it pains me to have to write about a dark chapter in his life when, in 1970, he was convicted of “immoral and improper liberties” with a teenage girl and spent three months in prison for it. He said years later, “It was an era of real indiscretion and mistakes by many male performers, and I was one of them. I got nailed for it, I was wrong, and I’m sorry for it.” In recent years, his ability to publicly support candidates and causes was curtailed by rekindled attention on his regrettable behavior.

I don’t recall hearing much about the matter in 1970 as I was playing his albums and learning his songs, but being reminded of it in obituaries last week forced me to come to terms with Yarrow as a flawed man whose unforgivable actions conflicted mightily with his support for humanitarian concerns.

My favorite PP&M LP, “Album 1700” (1967)

Still, I continue to admire his body of musical work. Yarrow was instrumental in devising the vocal arrangements that made the best use of Stookey’s baritone, Travers’s contralto and his own tenor, combined in soothing harmony on nine albums during their initial 1962-1970 run. Almost as important, his and Stookey’s deft acoustic guitar playing lifted their material above the majority of folk-based musical offerings of that era.

Yarrow wasn’t a prolific songwriter, but the philosophical wisdom and loping melody of his 1967 song “The Great Mandella (The Wheel of Life)” stands, in my view, as one of his best moments. I also recommend checking out his sadly ignored solo debut LP — now available as one third of a trio of the solo albums “Peter” (1972), “Paul And” (1971) and “Mary” (1971). On Yarrow’s record, you’ll find several tracks worthy of your attention such as “Mary Beth,” a lovely ballad to his wife, the spiritually centered “River of Jordan” and the hopeful singalong “Weave Me the Sunshine.”

Stookey ended up scoring the biggest chart success of the three solo careers with “Wedding Song (There is Love),” a ceremonial ballad he wrote on 12-string guitar and performed for Yarrow’s wedding in 1971, which peaked at #24 on the US Top 40 chart.

Here’s something I never knew about Yarrow: He co-wrote and co-produced “Torn Between Two Lovers,” the hit single about a romantic love triangle that managed to reach #1 on US pop charts for Mary MacGregor in early 1977.

Peter, Paul and Mary reconvened in 1978 for the aptly titled “Reunion” LP, and they went on to release four more albums between 1986 and 2003, but they barely made a dent in the charts. Their time, evidently, had come and gone, although their occasional concerts during those years drew appreciative audiences of older, faithful fans.

Stookey, Travers and Yarrow (photo by Hackett)

In 1981, as a newspaper concert critic in Cleveland, I had the opportunity to interview them backstage, take some performance photos and write a justifiably favorable review (see photos above and below). In that interview, Yarrow told me how they would select their repertoire. “For us to sing a song, not only does it have to have an engaging melody, but the words need to have a sense of truth. They can’t advocate a philosophy we don’t believe in. They should be somewhat constructive. They can be angry but not hopeless. In short, they have to move us.”

Yarrow and Stookey (photo by Hackett)

In addition to the anthems of commitment and concern, they sang tender ballads (Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Morning Rain,” Yarrow’s “Moments of Soft Persuasion”), rousing pop tunes (“Rollin’ Home,” “I Dig Rock and Roll Music”), holiday madrigals (“A-Soalin'”) and whimsical ditties like “I’m in Love With a Big Blue Frog,” a parody of “Ghost Riders in the Sky” called “Yuppies in the Sky,” and an anti-racist screed called “Listen Mr. Bigot.” They even did “Peter, Paul & Mommy,” a whole album of children’s songs.

“Lazarus” (1971)

On another more personal note, I shall be forever indebted to Yarrow for discovering and signing a trio of musicians known as Lazarus in 1970. Their stunning harmonies and original songs by guitarist Billie Hughes made an indelible mark on me, and on a number of friends with whom I shared their two albums. On the first LP’s liner notes, Yarrow wrote, “A thousand talented kids had spoken to me after concerts, asking me to hear their tunes. Why had I not just offered them an address to send their tape? Then I heard their music, and it was all clear to me the role I would play in their lives. Their songs just made me feel so good.” Although they toured behind Yarrow and other acoustic acts of that period, they never caught on, which is a huge shame. (I’ve included two of their songs on the Spotify playlist below to give you a taste. The members of Lazarus also sang harmonies on Yarrow’s solo track “Take Off Your Mask.”)

R.I.P., Mr. Yarrow. Thanks for your musical contributions, and I hope you find some measure of peace in your next life.

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I’ve got my finger on the pulse

In Chicago in 1944, an 11-year-old boy had begun to hang out with a gang of troublemakers in his rough-and-tumble neighborhood. In the community rec center, they picked a lock and broke into the kitchen to sample lemon meringue pies, and the boy noticed a piano sitting on a small stage nearby.

“I went up there, paused, stared, and then ran my fingers across the keys for a moment,” the boy wrote in his memoirs decades later. “That’s when I began to find peace. I was 11. I knew this was it for me. Music was it. Forever.”

That young boy would go on to be nominated 85 times for Grammy Awards, winning 28. He collaborated with the broadest array of musicians you can imagine — Duke Ellington, Snoop Dogg, Lesley Gore, Ray Charles, Sarah Vaughan, Michael Jackson, Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin, Donna Summer, Ella Fitzgerald, George Benson, and many dozens more.

That man was Quincy Jones, one of the most accomplished figures in the music business over the last seven decades. He died November 3 at age 91.

The incomparable Stevie Wonder said, “The most important thing Quincy taught me was, ‘Don’t stop until you know you got it like you want it, until it feels right, it feels good to you. Don’t settle for your vocals just being OK. Make sure that you give it all that you’ve got — not for the money of it, but for the art of it.’ You can look back and hear all of that when you hear the records he made.”

From the jazz records he made in the ’50s to the pop songs he produced in the ’60s, from the R&B LPs he cut in the ’70s, to the multiplatinum albums he produced for iconic stars of the ’80s, Jones showed an uncommon ability to understand and appreciate a wide variety of genres. As a producer, arranger, conductor, songwriter and instrumentalist, and later as a businessman and industry mogul, Jones made his indelible mark, influencing and mentoring many artists and protégés over his seven-decade career.

It might not have worked out that way. When he was just 7, Jones lost his mother to mental illness and institutionalization, and his father remarried and moved his family of eight children and step-children to Seattle. Jones was tempted by “the gangster life,” as he put it, but he was driven by an even stronger passion to create music. He learned trumpet and musical arranging, playing in marching bands and jazz combos alike. He earned a scholarship to Berklee School of Music in Boston but dropped out when jazz giant Lionel Hampton tapped him to join his touring band at only 20.

In New York, he worked with the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra at CBS, where he played trumpet behind Elvis Presley’s first TV appearances on “Ed Sullivan.” Jones toured the world as trumpeter and musical arranger for Dizzy Gillespie’s band and also studied music composition and theory with world-renowned music teacher/composer Nadia Boulanger in Paris. “She taught me so much,” Jones said, “and gave me the best advice I ever got: ‘Quincy, your music will never be more nor less than you are as a human being.’ It made me realize the importance of treating people fairly and kindly, and to encourage people to be their best selves.”

Jones in the 1950s

In the late ’50s, he formed The Jones Boys, an 18-piece big band he led, who toured North America and Europe to enthusiastic audiences and rave reviews, but the earnings failed to cover costs, and the band was forced to dissolve. “We had the best jazz band on the planet,” Jones recalled, “and yet we were literally starving. That’s when I discovered that there was music, and there was the music business. If I was going to survive, I would have to learn the difference between the two.”

He began concentrating his efforts in recording studios, helping to produce, arrange and conduct orchestras for some of the biggest stars of the late ’50s and early ’60s — Dinah Washington, Billy Eckstine, Ray Charles, Peggy Lee. He produced all four of Lesley Gore’s million-selling singles (“It’s My Party,” “Judy’s Turn to Cry,” “She’s a Fool” and “You Don’t Own Me”).

For Frank Sinatra, Jones arranged and conducted on two of his most popular albums — “It Might As Well Be Swing” with Count Basie in 1964 (which included the award-winning “Fly Me to the Moon”), and his live LP “Sinatra at the Sands” in 1966. “He took me to a whole new planet,” said Jones. “Working successfully with Frank opened a lot of doors for me.”

Jones and Sinatra in the studio in 1964

But Jones had already opened a few doors through his own efforts in the front office at Mercury Records, where he rose to be vice-president, the first African-American to do so at a major label. By the mid-’70s, in a partnership with Time Warner, he created Quincy Jones Entertainment, which included the pop-culture magazine Vibe and Qwest Broadcasting. He later sold it the 1990s for $250 million.

He also showed a talent for composing and producing film scores, beginning with 1964’s “The Pawnbroker.” He wrote more than three dozen, including “Walk, Don’t Run,” “In Cold Blood,” “Cactus Flower,” “$ (Dollars)” and “The Getaway.” Most notably, he scored the Oscar-winning “In the Heat of the Night” in 1967, with Ray Charles singing the title song. “I loved scoring films,” he once said. “It’s a multifaceted process, an abstract combination of science and soul.”

For a few years in the early ’70s, he recorded several solo albums that fared well on both pop and R&B charts, especially “Walking in Space” (1969), “You’ve Got It Bad Girl” (1973), “Body Heat” (1974), “Mellow Madness” (1975), “Sounds…and Stuff Like That! (1978) and “The Dude” (1981). He also wrote the theme music to such top TV series as “Sanford and Son” and “Ironside” and the first episode of the groundbreaking “Roots” miniseries. During that same period, he worked on successful album projects with Aretha Franklin, The Brothers Johnson, Rufus with Chaka Khan, Donny Hathaway and Billy Preston.

His most famous collaboration came when he supervised the adaptation of the Broadway score for the 1978 film “The Wiz,” where he met Michael Jackson. They hit it off immediately, and Jackson insisted on Jones as producer of what would become his landmark solo album, 1979’s “Off the Wall.” Jones remembered Jackson having very strong opinions about how the tracks should be recorded, and they sometimes disagreed. “I recall Michael thought we needed to get rid of the strings during the intro to ‘Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough.’ I said, ‘No, Michael, those will be like a siren calling everyone to the dance floor.’ Sure enough, I was right about that one.”

Jackson and Jones with their multiple “Thriller” Grammys in 1984

Their studio chemistry peaked three years later when they recorded 30 tracks and then selected the best nine to comprise the universally appealing “Thriller,” widely regarded as the biggest selling album of all time. It held the #1 slot for nearly 40 weeks in 1983-84, and Jackson credited Jones with pushing him to reach further, higher, deeper. “He’d make you do a thing until it’s perfect,” Jackson said in 1985. “He’d say, ‘It’s beautiful, Michael. We have a take!… Now, can you give us one more?'” It was also Jones who came up with the idea to bring in Eddie Van Halen to record the electrifying guitar solo on “Beat It” and Vincent Price to handle the spooky narration that closes “Thriller.”

Jones went on to produce Jackson’s third multiplatinum album, 1987’s “Bad,” with its five chart-topping singles, and he also shared his studio talents with Donna Summer, producing her 1982 LP and co-writing its hit “Love is in Control (Finger on the Trigger),” and George Benson’s “Give Me the Night” album in 1980.

Jones (second from left) with Lionel Richie, Daryl Hall, Stevie Wonder and Paul Simon in 1985

Some have called his leadership role as producer of the extraordinary “We Are the World” recording session in early 1985 as his crowning achievement. Lionel Richie, who co-wrote the song and helped shepherd the project, said he assumed they would bring in the numerous stars one by one to sing their parts and then put it all together afterwards, but Jones said, “No way, man. We’ll be here for three weeks. We’re going to bring them all together, put ’em in a circle with all the mics, and everyone will sing it looking at each other.” It seemed daunting, but Jones managed to control the concentration of major celebrities by famously posting a sign at the studio entrance: “Check your egos at the door.” Said Richie, “Quincy had everyone’s complete respect and attention, so it worked. He got everyone to cooperate. It was incredible. He was a master orchestrator, not only of music but of personalities.”

Jones still wasn’t done. In 1991, he won the Album of the Year Grammy for his LP “Back on the Block,” which brought together more than a dozen major stars from three generations, including Miles Davis, Sarah Vaughan, Dionne Warwick, Luther Vandross, Ice-T, Barry White, Al Jarreau and Ray Charles. The album topped R&B charts and spawned multiple singles like “I’ll Be Good to You” and “The Secret Garden.”

Wonder and Jones

He followed that up with “Q’s Jook Joint” in 1995, another star-studded affair he produced that topped jazz charts and merged musical styles. Stevie Wonder said, “There was one track where he had Ray Charles, Bono and me doing ‘Let the Good Times Roll.’ The three of us weren’t in the room together, we did our parts separately, but Quincy put it together like we were there at the same time. It’s kind of like making a movie. You have to make it feel like it was right there and then. And he was able to do that, put the pieces together and come up with a great track.”

Jones said at the time, “Music transcends time, and it bridges generations. Bebop and hip-hop, in so many ways, they’re connected. A lot of rappers remind me so much of bebop guys in terms of improvisation, beats and rhymes.”

In a sort of “full circle” symmetry, one of Jones’s early recorded pieces, “Soul Bossa Nova” (1962), was prominently featured in the 1997 box-office smash “Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery.”

He was married three times, most famously to actress Peggy Lipton (1974-1990), and had seven children. His daughter Rashida, an actress who starred on the “Parks and Recreation” TV series, described her father as “a genius, a giant, an icon, a culture shifter.”

In a 2018 TV interview, Jones was asked how he “worked his magic” in the studio. “I listen to the orchestra like an x-ray machine,” he noted. “I’ve been around it all my life. If it’s too thick, too thin, too slow, too fast, wrong key, whatever, I can just tell. And we do another take and modify it accordingly. I don’t go by surveys or focus groups. I go by my goosebumps. If it gives me goosebumps, it’s right.”

“If an album doesn’t do well, some people will say, ‘it was the producer’s fault,'” Jones said, “but if’s that’s true, then if it does well, it should be his ‘fault,’ too. The tracks don’t just all of a sudden appear. The producer has to have the skill, experience and ability to guide the vision to completion.”

When asked for any words of wisdom, Jones talked about the need to remove negativity from his life. “Holding grudges, allowing anger in, it’s all a big waste of time. Some words from Mark Twain still overwhelm me: ‘Anger is an acid that does more harm to the vessel in which it’s stored than to anything on which it’s poured.‘ Isn’t it amazing it took me until I was 85 to figure that out?”

Rest in peace, Quincy Jones. You’ve brought positive vibes to music lovers everywhere, and you’ll be sorely missed.

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The Spotify playlist below provides a cross section of material Quincy Jones has written, produced, arranged and conducted and/or performed on during his half-century in the business.