Year of the Cat
by John Urban
I was sitting at the computer contemplating my next blog post when my playlist popped-up the song Year of the Cat by Al Stewart. I had recently heard from my niece who said she had been listening to the very same song over the holidays and it reminded her of old times playing my albums.
As I took in the song, the piano and guitar solos sent me on a Google search for the liner notes. I knew it was produced by Alan Parsons but I was surprised to see that it was recorded at Abbey Road Studios in London.
I had made my own pilgrimage to Abbey Road a little over a year ago. I took a few shots with my camera, watched some folks striding across the familiar cross-walk as others snapped photos of them, and then I did the same. At one point I figured I would get a closer look at the recording studio and I walked toward the front door. As I approached, I saw someone through the window to the right of the door. He was too broad in the shoulders to be Paul McCartney, too tall to be Ringo. Maybe a bit more like a young Gregg Allman with the way his hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
As I stepped closer to the front entrance the man’s image grew clearer. Black clothes, black beard. He looked a lot like Alan Parsons.
(Record producer/engineer Alan Parsons)
The writer in me thinks he was signaling a hello. Sally was with me and her theory is that the guy in black wasn’t Parsons, nor was he any other famous artist or producer; rather he was security. Sally’s reasoning is bolstered by the way his hand moved across his throat in a gesture of “cut.” Whoever this nice gentleman/thug was, I nodded and back-pedaled to the street. That’s as close as I got to that well-known center of creativity.
Readers frequently ask authors questions about where they do their writing. Often, the answer is disappointing as most writers seek only a quiet spot that allows for undisturbed work. I wonder if it’s the same for musicians, if it’s about finding a similar room away from the world where they can do their work.
When I think of Muscle Shoals, or Clapton at 461 Ocean Boulevard, or the Stones at AIR Studios on Montserrat, I imagine a charged atmosphere where songwriters first reveal their new material.
Seeing Abbey Road, I suspect that musicians, too, are simply looking for a quiet spot that allows their work to unfold…perhaps even a place where some member of the public won’t come up and ring the doorbell just as the creative energy is flowing.
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