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Sessions Sessions

From the very moment Harry walked in the door, Christmas Eve of 1993, we were in a recording session that didn't stop until he had to leave or miss the plane.

Jimmy, Bob, Menlo and a number of other members of our band were practicing, not expecting Harry that soon, when in he strode, plunked himself in front of the microphone on the vocals couch, and commenced to belt out a blues number that woulda made yer hair stand on end. He hadn't lost it. My biggest fear for him vanished the moment I heard that voice.

Sure, since the Lost Weekend, his voice had lost a great deal of range, but the quality had survived the Unpleasantness.

Nobody wanted to stop, but finally dawn rolled around and we staggered out into the cool dark pre-dawn of a midwinter's Christmas Morning -- and Santa had been there -- we all had stockings filled to the brim!!!

While we stuffed our faces with breakfast, Oz, selfless martyr that he is, forwent the food, and did a rough mix, so we could hear a playback!


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