An Interview with Jazz-Synth Trailblazer Patrick Gleeson

I wrote a short piece on San Francisco Express’ excellent jazz-funk album, Getting It Together (Reynolds, 1979; Family Groove, 2009) for the San Francisco Bay Guardian’s “Time Travelers” article in August. Family Groove Records had just reissued the record and put me in contact with synth pioneer, Patrick Gleeson, to see if we could gather any more information on the record’s origins. At that point, Gleeson — who played the Moog synthesizer and recorded the sessions at his infamous Different Fur studios in San Francisco — didn’t quite recall the album. It all seemed a bizarre mystery; a label owner and source of the project (Paul Reynolds), who didn’t want to talk about the recording, musicians who didn’t quite remember it, and a neglected soundscape that stood out as solidly original and experimental for its time.

But now we can take some of the hazy layers off that story. After listening to the effort afresh, Gleeson started remembering. I spoke with him on the phone calling from Los Angeles where he’s busy building a new home on Mount Washington. Talking about the San Francisco Express album quickly took us into conversations about some of Gleeson’s other phenomenal work. Warm and excited, Gleeson dove into his collaborations with Herbie Hancock on the early 70s experimental synth jazz efforts, Sextant and Crossings. He also discusses his contributions as “master synthesis” for the Apocalypse Now film score. And finally, Gleeson details some of his production for the late found film artist, Bruce Conner, including his last great work, Luke (unfortunately, I cannot find any of Conner’s videos online due to copyright violations.). At 74-years-old, Gleeson still has enough energy to keep me panting, just trying to keep up with his meandering and amazing narratives.

I never had the chance to publish this interview for the SFBG, but I certainly do have the opportunity to share it with Hydra in its full-length, unedited splendor.

Michael Krimper: Did listening to the San Francisco Express’ album Getting It Together conjure any lost memories for you?

Patrick Gleeson: First of all, there were so many projects that came through Different Fur Studios. So, originally I didn’t remember the project at all. But then it came to me. I always thought it was an interesting project inspired by this one guy, Paul Reynolds, and his love for music. He wanted to express what he felt musically and have some record of it. So I look at it as, well, not a vanity project, but rather as an aspirational project. This guy wanted a chance to make music with the big dogs. And a couple of those guys were the big dogs — in particular Woody Shaw on trumpet and also Michael Howell on guitar.

It was a project conducted at various levels of a sort of enlightened amateurism. A one time amazing occurrence. I think this was the beginning and end for Paul’s record label. So it was a project born out of amateurism but in the best sense, for the love of music.

MK: Who did Paul initially contact to get the project running?

PG: He contacted me at Different Fur because I had played with Herbie. He asked me to participate from the beginning. But I think my participation was fairly nominal anyway.

MK: And you played the Moog synthesizer for the record.

PG: It’s interesting and strange to think back at the time and how people viewed the synthesizer. Professional musicians understand the synthesizer just as well as any instrument now. But ’75 was still the early days, right after Crossings and Sing The Body Electric by Weather Report coming out only three years before. When I would tour with Herbie, some people resented what we were doing. They said, “You look like a maddened telephone operator” (laughs)! But by the second time we came around, people really got open to it. This was the process going on in the mid ‘70s. A lot of musicians didn’t understand what I was doing, and I think Paul might not have understood it either. He might have seen it more the way Sun Ra did, who also pioneered the synth sound in jazz back then. But Sun Ra used it in semi-campy way. The synthesizer was more of the woooop wooop wooop brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiinnnnng for him (laughs). But to me, it was a way of expanding the tonal palette of jazz by introducing this improvising, orchestrating instrument. You know, I was really serious about it. But I thought it was very open of Paul to even want me to participate.

MK: Paul hired Woody Shaw to lead the horn section for the recording.

PG: I thought the fact that he hired Woody was wonderful. There really is not an adequate recording of Woody Shaw.

MK: A lot of the horn solo sections have a psychedelic quality. They just blast and fuzz out. Was there a general direction for that kind of sound?

PG: Again I think it was Paul’s influence. He wanted it loose in that way. And that’s good! God knows there’s enough producer, control freaks out there.

MK: The album was recorded in 1975 but not actually released until ’79. What happened?

PG: I don’t know the story behind that, but I could guess. Paul had thought that on the strength of my name and on Woody’s in particular, that he would fine a label that would take it for him. To release it on his own label was more of a last resort. He had big hopes for this project that weren’t realized.

MK: You’ve worked pretty extensively on doing scores for films and other video projects. How did you get involved in working on Apocalypse Now?

PG: There was a well publicized rumor that Francis was going to do an all synthesizer score. Then I heard he had hired some guys from LA, and I just felt I could have done it better. But my time had passed. After a year of progress on the first score — which might have been a better score, since it had a better composer, Francis’ son-in-law, David Shire. However, Francis felt, at least he told David Rubenstein, that he couldn’t get the score he wanted out of those guys. So Francis told Rubenstein famously, these synthesist players are all ego maniacs and assholes, and I need someone to ride hurt on it. There’s not enough time left for one person to do it all. You put together a team. So he did.

MK: You’re credited as the “master synthesist” on the film.

PG: As the project got under the way, Francis began to gravitate toward me socially. He had a dinner and at the dinner, he announced that I was the “master synthesist.” (laughs) So part of my job was to go around and sort of vent what the other guys were doing. It was like herding cats really!

MK: How did you view the finished score?

PG: My take on the score is that it was a brilliant failure. It was just a really ambitious project. There were some weird compromises made along the way that prevented it from becoming what it could have been. Still a very interesting score — but flawed.

MK: How does it sound to you now listening to it?

PG: It sounds very 70s (laughs). I did listen to it recently because they did an expanded version and box set with all the cuts. Actually, they did interviews with the music team too. It was interesting. But of all the things I’ve done that I listen to now and really get and would like to be doing are the first two albums with Herbie; Crossings and Sextant.

MK: I just listened to them again and they really are amazing and ahead of their time.

PG: Floating around on the internet somewhere is a live recorded version — a radio check I think — at the jazz workshop in Boston in ’72 or maybe ’73. And they broadcasted it live. There was a 40 some odd minute cut of “Hornets” off Sextant that was absolutely mind blowing. I’ve never heard jazz any better than that. It just killed the album version. Of course we were playing it for several months by that time. The kids swiped Sextant you know. Everybody sampled my intro to “Hornets”. (laughs) Or was it another one? (“Rain Dance”) Anyway, I never got a cent!

MK: Have you enjoyed any of those songs that sampled your music?

PG: Oh yeah. I’d just be an ordinary consumer and buy the CD and put the record on. Oh, Tribe Called Quest just stole it! Just a few years ago an English guy came backstage and thanked me for the loop. Apparently they made a gold record with it (laughs).

MK: You’ve also made scores for the visual artist and filmmaker, Bruce Conner. How did you start collaborating with him?

PG: I was a college professor at San Francisco State. And I came to a point where I realized I was either going to quit doing that and make music, or I was going to become one of those bitter, middle-aged alcoholic professors who hit on their younger students. So I quit. Bruce and I had done one project together, a happening at the SF MOMA. Everything was done by amateurs back in those days. We basically proposed some project to the museum and they said, oh OK! They didn’t even know that Bruce was going to be involved. It was Ben Van Meter and me. The happening was two tunes of mine that were just blues outlines done by a group called Clover. And I did a very bad imitation of Bob Dylan. Bruce and Ben did all the lights; back projection, liquid projection, and other stuff. We even had a couple naked go-go dancers.

One day Bruce showed up on my door step right as I was starting to form the commune known as Different Fur. He had this funny little voice. He said, “Pat, I heard you’ve quit teaching and now you’re going to make music for a living” (imitating a crackling, squeaky voice). I said yeah. He kinda’ giggled and told me, “Well you’ll need this.” And he handed me a collage. Cut forward 30 years, I sold that collage for 150,000 dollars.

MK: Not a bad deal!

PG: Yeah (laughing). So as the implications of this became known, I was an easy target for low budget or no budget film scores for Bruce, because he knew I owed him. I just loved Bruce’s work though. I always felt he really used my talents the way they ought to be used. By the way, I was fired off of every film at some point. There was a comic book character some years back called The Terrible, Tempered Mr. Bangs. Bruce is–was that person. On one project he fired me before I even started for not starting soon enough (laughing). But the firings were bizarrely ornate. For that one I got a letter from his lawyer demanding the return of all materials. And on another one I was fired twice (laughs). Afterwards, Bruce would forget he ever fired me! He would say, oh you weren’t fired. But he fired me in writing, so I had proof! Every film I was fired on at least once. But we always ended on good terms.

MK: Did getting fired in the middle of each project play any role in shaping the sound of the scores?

PG: Well, the music for Take The 5:10 to Dreamland preceded the film. Bruce made the film to the music. So perhaps that was the only one I wasn’t fired on. But for the others, it was always extremely clear to both us what the music ought to be. With the last film we did, for Luke, I had started with an idea for dramatizing the Warner Brothers’ equipment truck on the first frame. I thought I’ll score it like a bad synth B score from the period. I started to do that as a sort of elegy, a fake heroic cheesy synth score throughout the film.

I knew Bruce was dying and hey I’m 74 years old. But then, from the very first frame that I saw Paul Newman — the sexiest man in the universe — I realized the film was not about dying but about fucking living. And the whole direction changed. The film dictated the score to me. I didn’t even have to write it. That’s the best thing about working with a strong artist; their vision guides your whole creative process.

MK: Any new projects coming up?

PG: My latest album was released last year. What I’m hoping to do, if I last, is put together a live group. I haven’t done that in forever. So I’ve been writing music designed for live recording. I have players who I hope will participate, and I’ve written it for them. It’s about half way between early Steve Reisch and Sextant, or maybe In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew. I don’t know if will come out as futuristic or dated or a little bit of both.  Probably both.

Tweet