Posted by
Chris Campbell
at
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
In 1999 or so, I met Robert Becker. I think it was through Eric Ambel or maybe just the almost nightly trips out to the NYC clubs to see bands. At the time, I was looking to try my hand at artist management, and Becker, having formerly manned the keys for The Gin Blossoms was looking to go it alone. One weekend, I made my way to his self-described "hacienda" in Park Slope to hear a few
very rough recordings from what would become
Lot #99-0038. I remember nervously entering his apartment as I didn't know the first thing about artist management. But I put on a bit of a front, which I think was nothing other than chain smoking and occasionally tossing in a quip like "nice touch on the bass" (it was probably a dobro). Nevertheless, I was immediately taken by the excitement of what lie ahead.
The next six months or so was a mix of babysitting, setting up gigs at anywhere that would take us (the two highlights being Irving Plaza and a night in Boston where we nearly killed each other), drinking, listening to revisions and repeat. I remember showing up at his apartment one Sunday afternoon and seeing the joy on his face as he was about to play me "When I Fade" for the first time. He played it once. I asked him to play it again. I was blown away. I couldn't believe that I was playing an integral role in this record. Well, I didn't add a note or a lyric, but I was on hand for the entire process.
When it was finally completed, with touches added from Chip Robinson, Ambel, Anna Goodman, Mike Daly and others, I had in hand an incredibly personal and naked expression of an artist and person leaving everything for all to see.
the hull of the sinking ship / and sparks fly when these words let slip / all these things still left to do / stuck in a storm i once stood / up for the things i once would / i've been ready for yearsTo this day, my involvement on this record brings on incredible pride. Every song is stunning, and to have been there to witness their formation, is something I won't soon forget.
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