![]() ![]() The result was the all-too-perfect sound of my first session. Chrysalis had signed a chick singer, and a chick singer was what they expected me to remain. But though he was my biggest cheerleader and the greatest guy, he had to rely heavily on our attorneys, business manager, and the record label for advice. ![]() Early on, what he lacked in music knowledge, he made up for in passion, and he’d been fantastic in presenting me to labels. He’d discovered me while I was performing at Catch a Rising Star, a club in New York, and he believed in me enough to take on management duties. My manager, Rick Newman, was a comedy club owner with no music experience. ![]() I’d been knocking on doors in New York for a couple of years when Chrysalis offered me a deal. But still everyone kept shoving me in the same direction.įor my first record deal, I’d signed with a label called Chrysalis Records. I knew it, the producers knew it, and the record company knew it. Everything sounded perfect-so perfect it was bland. Part of the issue was that the musicians whom the producers had hired were very precise players. The problem was that I sounded like Julie Andrews trying to sing rock. It was more subtle than all that, but also much worse-not something that could be fixed by a simple equipment change. It wasn’t that my voice sounded wrong or the drummer was off the beat. It wasn’t that the speakers were bad or the mics were low. As I sat there, listening to the playback from my first-ever recording session, I knew that something was off. ![]()
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