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Music Music Features

Recalling Roland

Last week, Memphis lost Roland Janes. The legendary guitarist and producer was famous for his work with Jerry Lee Lewis and for his studio work at Sam Phillips Recording. Janes’ records will endure. His legacy as a musical mentor is profound. Few people experienced Janes as a teacher more than Scott Bomar, a Grammy-winning film composer, who (like Memphis musicians) learned to record and produce from Janes. Bomar’s success and, more importantly, his demeanor reflect Janes’ influence. Below, Bomar shares his memories of learning from one of Memphis’ greatest talents. — Joe Boone

One of the most pivotal moments in my life was digging a funky, yellow-labeled 45-rpm single out of a stack of records at my grandmother’s house when I was around 13. It was Travis Wammack’s “Scratchy,” one of the wildest, most unhinged guitar instrumentals of all time. It was from the past and the future all at the same time. It was hard to tell if it was from 1962 or 2102. I became fascinated with the sound of the record, and it sent me on a pre-internet fact-finding mission to find out everything I could about its creators.

I eventually found out about the record’s producer, Roland Janes, who had cut the record in the ’60s at his Sonic recording studio in a strip mall in Midtown Memphis. I began to connect the dots and discovered that Roland had been the in-house studio guitarist for Sam Phillips at Sun Studio and had played on numerous Jerry Lee Lewis hits, Billy Lee Riley’s “Flyin’ Saucers Rock & Roll” (one of the lodestones of rock-and-roll guitar), “Raunchy” by Bill Justis, and Harold Dorman’s “Mountain of Love.” Roland had the magic touch.

My growing obsession with the Memphis instrumental sound of the ’50s and ’60s eventually led to the formation of 1990s band Impala. I was a band member. In the early ’90s, I was working at Select-O-Hits, the record distributor operated by the family of Sam Phillips’ brother Tom Phillips and was approached by Johnny Phillips to make a full-length Impala record. I knew that Johnny did all of his recording at Sam Phillips Recording on Madison (the ultra-swank studio Sam Phillips built after he sold Elvis’ contract to RCA), and Roland Janes was the in-house engineer. I couldn’t say yes fast enough.

Working with Roland was not only a dream come true but also the beginning of a life-changing mentorship and friendship that lasted until his passing. With Roland at the helm, I experienced my first album session (Impala, El Rancho Reverbo), my first experience making music for a film (Impala, Teenage Tupelo), and my first record as producer (Calvin Newborn, New Born).

Roland always had the best advice, the best answers, and the ability to get the best performances from both raw talent and seasoned pros. From Roland, I learned more about the psychological aspect of producing records than the technical, though I did glean some of his knowledge of the latter as well. Roland’s sense of humor and wit were unlike anyone I have ever known. Roland would have musicians laughing and quickly forgetting any anxieties or pressure they may have been feeling, and, before they knew it, they would be getting takes down. Roland Janes, like his former boss, Sam Phillips, had a divine ability to work with talent and capture the precise moment of inspiration on tape.

Up until the past few years, Roland had been reticent to do interviews and share the bottomless wealth of stories he had. But being the intuitive person he was, I believe he knew he was in the twilight of his life, and he had begun to share more of his stories and himself — he even had a Facebook page. Fortunately, Roland lived to receive accolades from the Memphis music community that he had given so much to.

In 2006, I had the honor along with Knox Phillips, Jon Hornyak, and Craig Brewer to present Roland with plaques from the Recording Academy for his participation in three Grammy Hall of Fame recordings.

Last month, it was announced he would be inducted into the Memphis Music Hall of Fame and would be receiving a brass note on Beale Street. Roland was praised in numerous articles and online posts by a new generation of musicians and fans he had touched, and he was recently featured in a large cover story in the Sunday Commercial Appeal.

Roland Janes’ essence and legacy are captured in the past six decades and in the future of Memphis music. I will never forget the things he taught me, the advice he gave me, his stories, and, most of all, his generosity and kindness.

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Sing All Kinds We Recommend

Sound Advice: OCTUBAFEST at U of M, Wed.-Sat.

It’s freakin’ Octubafest. Yeah, I know, TUBULAR!

It runs from Wednesday through Saturday, Oct. 23-26, at 5:30 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. University of Memphis, Harris Auditorium.

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Opinion Viewpoint

Is There an Echo in Here?

Editor’s note: The Flyer received many letters from Memphis musicians in response to our September 13th cover story, “Standing at the Crossroads,” which detailed the revival of the Memphis Music Commission and Music Foundation. Among the responses was this one from legendary Memphis producer Jim Dickinson.

Yeah, that’s just what we need: “a multi-Grammy-winning producer coming to town to build a studio.”

Tell that to multi-Grammy-winning producer Norbert Putnam of the sadly flawed and failed Cadre studio.

Does the name Chips Moman mean anything? The Moman-return scenario was tragic for everybody concerned and all but ended the career of the most successful producer in the history of Memphis music.  

House of Blues studios A, B, and C stand empty. The Three Alarm and 315 Beale studios are gone. Easley Recording is in ashes. Posey Hedges shut his studio down.

Other Memphis studios teeter on the brink of extinction: Knox Phillips will keep Phillips Recording open until it falls over in a heap. Willie Mitchell is going nowhere, thank God. Stax is a museum and a label destined to fail, owned by out-of-towners. John Fry at Ardent has enough money to burn a wet mule. Ward Archer is in the process of renovating the old Sounds Unreel studio into what will be the most modern, world-class studio in a 200-mile radius. God only knows why.

As anyone with any knowledge of the music business knows, studios are going toes up all over the country.

The new ideas touted by the new music “leaders” are just as unrealistic, though not as self-serving, as former commission head Rey Fleming’s.

I’ve seen them come and go — the saviors of Memphis music. And we the musicians will be here when the latest bunch is gone. We will have to live with the fallout and clean up the mess.

Memphis’ musical strength is not in studios or venues or festivals. Our strength is our musicians. In the years since the self-destruction of Stax, many a deserving artist has slipped through the cracks: Kevin Paige, Wendy Moten, and Eric Gales, to name three. The great O’Landa Draper was on his way to true superstardom when he suddenly died, far too young.

Music is a business where how good you are doesn’t necessarily matter, and sometimes even genius is not enough.

Phineas Newborn Jr. and Shawn Lane both died in relative obscurity and financial distress. How many others have there been? They give up or move away or struggle along against impossible odds.

Witness the success of Cat Power — a mediocre talent who came to town, recorded a successful record with great Memphis musicians, and toured with the recording band. So much of it is dumb luck. Getting a job at Tater Red’s on Beale Street will do more good for musicians than a tax break for rich folks with investment capital.

Don’t take it personally, Memphis. It’s not happening just to us. It’s just happening. Studios on Music Row in Nashville are standing empty. The best studio in the state recently went out of business. Artists make recordings at home. Mick Jagger records on a laptop.

I have a near-religious faith in Memphis music. Our music endures. Pop culture is disposable, designed to become obsolete and create a demand for more and more. Art is for the ages.

On a recent trip to New York to play Carnegie Hall with my sons, we had a meeting in the Sony Tower. After the meeting, we rode the high-security elevator down — past six empty floors that used to be the once-mighty R.C.A.

Things are tough all over. Hang on, Memphis. Suck it up and tough it out. As the late, great Charlie Freeman once said, “They don’t call it the Bluff City for nothing.”

I applaud Three 6 Mafia. I applaud Saliva. Getting out of town is no easy task, but it is necessary. Our music has power worldwide. Once upon a time there was this teen-age truck driver from Tupelo …

Jim Dickinson has been playing, recording, and producing music in Memphis since the late 1960s.

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News

Guy Sebastian Is Apparently Still in Memphis

It’s already Sunday in Australia, which means only one thing, mates: Guy Sebastian’s Memphis Diary is online!

Here’s a sample of this week’s riveting action: “We would begin a session with everyone relaxing having a cup of coffee and telling stories about touring, and stuff about artists they have worked with like Elvis, Otis Redding, The Beatles etc etc..

“You know, just your average session musos!! This would sometimes take an hour and then I would show them which song I wanted to record and after listening to any changes I had we would all go into the live room.

“Everyone would hop on their instrument I’d hop in the vocal booth and we would just hit record without a rehearsal and everyone would nail it nearly every time. Then it’s back to coffee and stories for another hour!”

If you’d like more of this magic, go to the Sunday Telegraph website.

By the way, a Flyer music writer attempted to interview Guy this week, but he wasn’t interested. To which we say, Dude, you need to get out of the studio. There’s more to Memphis than coffee, geezers, and recycled Elvis stories.