Our friend, Bret
Bret Alexander is admired as a musician and loved as a
friend
By ALAN K. STOUT
MUSIC ON THE MENU
January 29, 2019
It was in Bearsville, New
York, near Woodstock, in October of 1997 when I learned everything that I
needed to know about Bret Alexander as a musician and as a songwriter. And that
knowledge came from his answer to one simple question …
We were in the recording
studio, late at night, listening to some tracks from the Badlees “Up There Down
Here” album, which the band was recording at the time. I was there on
assignment from The Times Leader. The paper had asked if I’d like to do a story
about the recording of the album, which all of NEPA was eagerly awaiting. The
band said they were fine with me hanging around for a few days, and so off I
went.
The Catskills, as you’d
imagine, are gorgeous in October, and the studio sat in a picturesque wooded
area that I’ve always felt helped shape the sound of “Up There Down Here.”
It’s as though the surrounding ambiance actually bled into some of its
tracks. And as Bret and I sat there in the studio listening to the music, I
asked him if what we were doing – listening to a completed track, perfectly
mixed, with all of its layers and instrumentation – was his favorite part
of making music.
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| Bret in Bearsville, 1997 |
“No,” he said. “The best part
is when you first write the song. I can kind of hear in my head what might
become of it later - with the band and in the studio - but the best part is
when you’re just sitting on your couch with a guitar and you know might have a
good song.”
For Bret, it’s always been
about the songs. Nothing more. And no one that I’ve known in my 28 years of
writing about rock music has written better songs. I saw, in him, a very
special talent back in 1993, when we first met, and between my former
newspaper column and my radio show, there is no other artist that I’ve
interviewed more. And that’s because his songs have always deserved the most
attention.
Bret, it was revealed last
week, has a genetic degenerative kidney condition that requires a kidney
transplant. The operation will take place in February, and while he recovers,
he will be unable to play shows and work in the recording studio, which is how
he makes his living. And thus many of his friends here in NEPA have come together
to present “BANDing together for BRET,” a benefit show that will help him out,
financially, as he recovers from the surgery.
As mentioned, I’ve written a
lot of stories about Bret, the musician. But today I’m writing about Bret, the
musician, and Bret, my friend. I have never shared some of these stories
before, and so you might want to grab a coffee or something and get yourself
comfortable …
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Last night of the "River Songs" tour.
Bud Light Amphitheater, Harveys Lake, 1996 |
My review of the Badlees
“River Songs” album was published on the day it was first released,
independently, in February of 1995. I was absolutely floored by some of the songwriting, and in that review, I compared Bret Alexander to a young
Springsteen or Mellencamp. That same week, at the band’s CD release party, he
thanked me for the kind words and it was during that brief conversation that I
told him, for the first time, how I felt about him:
“You,” I said, “are a very
talented man.”
We didn’t know each other
that well at the time. I’d only done a few stories on the group back then, but
after reading the songwriting credits on “River Songs” I realized it was
Bret who was the creative force and the soul of The Badlees, and thus from then
on I always made sure to chat with him a bit at the shows and to make sure that
he was a part of any Badlees story that I was writing. To me, a band is all
about its songs. And Bret was the songs.
In 1996, The Badlees held a
video release party for “Angeline Is Coming Home” in The Woodlands Grand
Ballroom. It was, to this day, one of the biggest crowds that I have ever seen
there – probably about 1,500 people. The next day, the band was heading out to
go on tour with Bob Seger, and so I asked Bret to give me a call in a few weeks,
after they’d done some shows, to let me know how the tour was going. All of the
group’s fans were excited about what was happening and I knew they would enjoy
reading an update from the road. Bret said he would call and a few weeks later
my phone in the newsroom rang. It was Bret. We did the story. And I also knew
right then that he was not only a very talented man, but also a man of his
word. Today, 25 years later, he has never shown otherwise.
 |
Bret performing at "We All Shine On."
River Street Jazz Cafe, 2005 |
Years later, after our
friendship began to develop, Bret would sometimes give me an early listen to
some of the band’s new recordings. The fact that he valued my opinion meant a
lot to me and I was very flattered. In 1998 he gave me an early and still unreleased
copy of “Up There Down Here," and when I heard the song “Don’t Let Me Hide” for
the first time, I once again realized what a brilliant songwriter he
was. And not just because it’s such a great tune, but because of the
backstory behind it, which I don’t believe has ever been told …
The Badlees told their fans
on stage several times in 1997 that the follow-up to “River Songs” was going to
be titled “Up There Down Here.” The reason, they said, was because, sonically,
it contained some of their heaviest songs and some of their softest songs.
(Examples: “Middle of The Busiest Road” and “Running Up That Hill.”) But on
another occasion, I’d heard that the name of the album came from the sessions
themselves, as most of the recordings were done “up there” in Bearsville, while
some tweaking to the tracks was done “down here” in Pennsylvania. I was told
that “up there, down here” was a phrase that the band often used during the
sessions - ”We’ll do that up there. We can do that down here” – and thus the
name of the album. It was also about the journey of being on stage for so long and then finding yourself back in the audience, right where you started. The fact that there were a few stories floating around about
how the album got its title didn’t really matter. They all made sense and
it was a cool title. But there’s a much better part to the story …
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Bret performing at "Concert For Karen."
Voodoo Lounge, 2000. |
“Don’t Let Me Hide,” which
would later become the album’s first single, was not recorded in Bearsville. In
fact, it wasn’t even written yet when the Bearsville sessions ended and when it
was initially thought that the “Up There Down Here” album was complete. But after
hearing the final Bearsville sessions, the group’s label, Atlas/A&M, told
the band they wanted a few more songs. What was it that Tom Petty sang? “Their
A&R man said, “We don’t hear a single.” That was the deal. And so Bret
wrote some more songs. But I remember him telling me that he wasn’t too happy
about it. He thought the record was done. And he really didn’t like having
someone else tell him that it wasn’t. Still, he got to work. And he wrote “Don’t
Let Me Hide.” And if you listen to it - now that you know this story -
you can see that parts of the lyrics are actually about writing a song that you
don’t really want to write. It’s about toiling away in the basement, working on
the song, while his wife was upstairs. That’s where the line in the pre-chorus
of song comes from … “You’re up there, and I’m down here.” It's about facing adversity, and not losing yourself in the process, and asking your loved ones for strength. That's what Bret wrote about. And in doing so, he not only delivered another fantastic song, but he
also brilliantly tied it into the name of the album – an album which had already been named several months prior.
“Don’t Let Me Hide,” which was
recorded in Los Angeles, several months after Bearsville, was the lead single from “Up There Down Here.”
Ironically, one of Tom Petty’s Heartbrteakers played on it. And, now that you
know the story behind it, you know that even back then Bret was already
starting to flip the music business the bird.
“You want another song? How
about THIS.”
Once “Up There Down Here” was
completed and Bret gave me that early version of it, I fell in love with it.
The songs were incredible: “Luther’s Windows,” “Thinking In Ways,” “34
Winters,” “Silly Little Man,” “Middle of The Busiest Road,” “Running Up That
Hill,” “Don’t Let Me Hide” … I thought it was even better than “River Songs.”
But just as the album was completed also came the $10 billion dollar
Polygram/Seagram sale, which later led to the formation of the Universal Music
Group. And for well over a year, no one heard the album. It, like the Badlees
and hundreds of other bands, was tangled up in corporate limbo. And as a fan and
friend of the band, it was killing me. I felt the album needed to be heard. I
felt it must be heard. But whenever I talked to Bret about it, he seemed
totally unconcerned. He said he enjoyed writing the songs and recording them,
but if no one ever got to hear them, it didn’t really bother him. He’d just write
more songs.
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Bret at "Concert for A Cause"
The Woodlands, 2007 |
And that’s what he did. And
that’s what he’s continued to do. But how he handled that turbulent time in his
career told me so much about him as an artist. He wasn’t about to mourn the
loss of those songs. He’d already gotten all that he could out of them and he was moving on to new creative projects and new tunes. And like he told
me in the studio that night, the best part is always when you first write them.
Eventually, in 1999, The
Badlees, tired of the ongoing delays, asked to be released from Polygram. And
as soon they were freed, they dropped a new album, “Amazing Grace.” Of
course it contained some of Bret’s best songs, including “Amazing Grace To
You,” “Time Turns Around” and “Poison Ivy.” All were done at his home studio. A
few months later, another label signed the Badlees, acquired the rights to “Up
There Sown Here” and finally released it. And so, within just a few months,
fans of the band got two great albums.
I guess Bret was right when
he told me not to worry about it.
One of the things that has
meant the most to me throughout my career in journalism and in radio is my
friendship with Bret and the fact that he has at times considered me a
confidante. Trusting me with an early copy of “Up There Down Here” was an early
example, and I remember a year or so later, when The Badlees released the “The
Days Parade” EP, he told me the band was thinking of including a cover tune on
the record and he asked me which song I thought they should record. I suggested
Springsteen’s “Atlantic City” because I loved they way he sang it at the band’s
shows. It ended up on the record. In 2002, he came over to my old apartment one
night and gave me an early listen to the “Renew” album, which was the first
Badlees record in three years. As we sat there listing to the tracks, I was
particularly captured by the song “Too Many Changes” and I told him that it
didn’t sound like anything the band had done before. He told me he was going
for a bit of a Motown vibe on the tune, and that he kind of imagined guys from
the ‘70s with old-school long skinny microphones and polyester suits singing along to the bridge
section. Once again, he nailed it. I think it’s one of his best songs. And I am
grateful to have had been able to have had such conversations with him about
his music.
Bret and I have also gone to
see some pretty good shows together. We caught U2 in Philly, Springsteen at
State College and B.B. King at The Kirby Center. Bret loved the late B.B. King.
He always plays that black Gibson guitar because of B.B. And being able to meet B.B. with Bret after the show at The Kirby was a lot of fun. I don’t know
if I’d ever seen him so happy. When we went to see U2 do a big stadium show,
Bret took in the whole concert in silence. Anyone that knows him knows he’s not
going to be standing on his chair, singing along to every song or waiving a
lighter in the air. That’s just not his way. And so I had no idea what he was
thinking. After the show, when we were walking back to the car, I asked him if
he liked it.
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Bret at Montage Mountain in front
of the Saturation Acres stage.
Anti-bullying benefit, 2012. |
“Oh yeah,” he said. “I
thought it was great. I don’t think
most people have any idea how hard it is to pull something like that off, on
that scale, and do what those guys do.”
I think if U2 ever heard some
of Bret’s music they’d say the same about him.
Like everyone that knows him,
I also have some funny Bret stories. And the better you get to know him, the
more of his humor you’ll see. For 12 years, from 1999-2011, I worked on a
benefit show called “Concert for Karen/Concert For A Cause.” And at a few of the first few shows, I played bass
with The Badlees on the song “Laugh To Keep From Crying.” I am nowhere near the
musician that those guys are, but the song had a lot of meaning to us, regarding
“Concert For Karen,” and so I played it with them. The first few times that I
did it, I played pretty well. It sounded good. But by 2002, the show had grown so
much in size that we moved it to The Woodlands Grand Ballroom. We had two stages and twice as many bands on the bill, and as one of the show’s organizers, I
guess you could say that I was a bit too busy to spend enough time with my bass
in the days leading up to the show, and on stage, during “Laugh To Keep From
Crying’” I briefly lost my way. It probably wasn’t even noticeable to those at
the show, and I soon got back on track with the band, but musicians notice these
things.
“Well, that was a (expletive) train
wreck,” I said to Bret with a smile after the set.
“Well, you had a (expletive)
year to practice,” he said with laugh.
We still laugh about that
one.
I’ve also recorded with Bret
at his studio, Saturation Acres, many times. Sometimes it’s been a song that
I’ve written and sometimes it’s been a cover song, just for fun. Those days in
the studio with him are always among my favorite days of the year because it
also gives us the chance to catch up on things. And as anyone that has ever
recorded with him knows, you are working with the best. And on one special
occasion, Bret went the extra mile for me. I’d written a song called “Summer
Days” that I thought was OK and that I wanted to record, but I knew it needed
something more. I knew it needed Bret. At that point, I’d already recorded
with him before, but for this song, I asked him if he would help me finish
writing the tune. I know that I can’t write a good bridge to save my life and
that I needed some help with the arrangement. And though we were already pretty
good friends by then, I idolized him as a songwriter, and I was still a
bit nervous about asking him to help me write a song.
“Sure, man,” he said. “You
know me. I love that stuff.”
A week or so later, Bret came
over to my place and I gave him a tape of what I had. He took it home and then
came back a week or two later with some ideas. He felt the chorus was strong
and that the song should begin with its chorus, which is something the Beatles
would sometimes do. He also, of course, had a bridge. And we sat at my kitchen
table and finished it. I still have a recording of it, which was done on an old
boom-box, and it is one of my favorite things. To me, it was no different than
if Springsteen was sitting in my house helping me write a song. A few weeks later, I went to Saturation Acers
to properly record it, and it later received airplay on 14 radio stations throughout
Pennsylvania and hit No. 5 of the NEPA singles chart.
I don’t have the talent nor the
ability to write and record a song that could become a regional hit on the radio. But
working with Bret, that’s what happened.
Most of my sessions with Bret
have been fun and seamless. But there was one, when recording a cover of John
Lennon’s “Watching The Wheels,” that was not. I was excited about the session
all week, and the night before, I had total insomnia. Still, I drove to Danville,
where the studio was located at the time, and Bret spent all day laying down
the tracks for the song. Finally, after a long day in the
studio, it was time for me to sing. And I sucked. We could not get a good take on the vocals.
I tried a few times, but Bret finally told me to just go home and come back
again another day. I lobbied him to try again, but he was done. He said
it was his daughter’s birthday and that he was going home. I came back a few
days later to take another shot at it and got it right in no time, but we still
laugh about the day he kicked me out and sent me home.
There have been lots of good
times and laughs at Saturation Acres. In 2010, on the night we recorded a final
song for the “Concert For a Cause 9” album – a cover of U2’s “Walk On” - Bret
began doing an imitation of me, adlibbing a tirade of lyrics about why we were
no longer going to do the annual charity concert. Eddie Appnel, John Smith,
Dustin Douglas, Tim Farley, Paul Young … we were all laughing so hard we were
in tears. It was honestly one of the best laughs that I’ve ever had.
It was also at Saturation
Acres where I got a great glimpse of Bret’s humility. He’s accomplished a
lot with his music. He had two national record deals. He’s done shows Bob
Seger, the Allman Brothers and Plant/Page. Gregg Allman liked his tunes so much
that he once asked Bret if he’d like to write with him. NBC-TV used “Fear of
Falling” during the 1996 Winter Olympics. I once heard The Badlees on Muzak in
the supermarket and The Badlees were once the answer to a question on
“Jeopardy.” Here in NEPA, they headlined amphitheaters and the F.M. Kirby Center. It’s cool stuff. But you’d never know about any of it from just
talking to Bret. He is too modest. He is too unassuming. And on one occasion,
about 20 years ago, when I was recording a song with Bret and his partner Paul
Smith at the studio, I got to see just how much.
At some point during the day,
I started talking to an intern, who had been there for a few months.
“It must be pretty cool
for you to be working here with these guys,” I said. “They’ve done some great
stuff.”
He looked at me with look of
confusion on his face.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“Well, you know … working in
the studio with a few guys from The Badlees … that’s pretty cool,” I said.
“These guys are great.”
“I know The Badlees,” he
said, as he rattled off the names of a few of their hit songs. “What do you
mean … I’m working with The Badlees?”
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| Bret mixing a song at Saturation Acres |
Bret and Paul were behind the
studio glass at the time and could not hear the conversation.
“Those guys right there are
Badlees,” I said, pointing to them through the glass.
I thought the kid was going
to fall right over. You’d think that at some point, it might have come up in
conversation. But not with Bret and Paul. There was not one thing in that
studio that would give any indication of some of the things they had
accomplished.
Want another example of his humility? At one point, about 10 years ago,
Bret told me that he didn’t even own copies of most of his own records. Usually,
he said, if someone asked him about one of his albums, he’d just give them his
only copy. I burned him a whole bunch of his best songs onto a couple of CDs and gave them to him. “Someday,” I said, “Your daughters are going to want to have
these.”
In regards to the upcoming
“BANDing together for BRET” concert, there is something else about Bret that
I’d like to share …
Over the past 21 years, I
have personally been involved with 16 different charity events that have
involved music. From 1999-2011, there were 13 “Concert For Karen/Concert For A
Cause” shows, which aided numerous local charities, ranging from children's programs to homeless shelters to programs for veterans. There was a "We All Shine On" John Lennon tribute show, which took place in 2005, on the 25th
anniversary of Lennon’s death, with proceeds benefiting the John Lennon
Scholarship Fund. There was “Music, Motors & More,” which took place in
2012 at Montage Mountain, with proceeds benefiting local anti-bullying programs.
In 2016, there was “Maximum Respect: A Tribute to George Wesley” and in 2017
there was “Jane Jam.”
Bret performed at every single
one of them.
And he has donated his time
and talents to countless other such benefits. He has always been there, sharing
his time and talents, to help others. Even the former “Concert for A Cause”
albums, which helped raised thousands of dollars for local charities, are
totally linked to Bret. It was Bret, in 2002, that suggested a companion CD to
accompany the annual “Concert For Karen.” And what he offered was
extraordinary. He offered an EP that featured the first new Badlees music in
three years. The band’s fans were clamoring for something new, and the first
time they heard the songs “Renew” and “See Me As A Picture,” it was on the
“Concert for A Karen” EP. And all of the money went to the Leukemia &
Lymphoma Society of America.
The “Concert For Karen” EP
was such a success that we decided to do a companion CD, to accompany the show,
every year. It soon evolved into the “Concert For A Cause” compilation CD,
featuring songs from some of the region’s best bands. For 10 years, every
spring, those albums would often spend several weeks at No. 1 on the local album chart. They
helped countless people and numerous charities and they were great exposure for
local talent. And it all started with Bret.
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| "Concert For Karen 4," The Woodlands, 2002 |
I am proud to call Bret
Alexander a friend and I am grateful for it. I recall, when my mother passed
away a few years ago, seeing him walk into the viewing and being so appreciative
of that kind gesture. I also recall the good time that was had at his wedding reception,
some 20 years ago, and I’m glad that he still has a strong woman like his wife,
Kelly, in his life. And I enjoy hearing him boast about his daughters.
I also love how, even today,
he always tells me, “The only time I drink gin is when I’m with you.” This is
usually towards the end of one of our recording sessions. I bring the gin. And we always have a good time. I can also recall, from 2015, what a privilege it was to write
the presentation speech when he received the “Lifetime Achievement Award” at
The Electric City Music Conference and to be there for him that night. And I recall how, 10 years ago, when my daughter was only three years old, the first song she ever sang was "Drive Back Home." And I recall how, for the last few tunes that I’ve
recorded with him, I brought my bass to the studio even though I didn’t know
the bass-lines to the songs. Bret taught them to me on the spot. It just happened, again, just two months ago.
Bret, as I said in 1995, is a very talented man. And he is always the coolest guy in the room. And for all
of these years, he has been the heart, the soul and the center of this musical
community. From The Badlees, to his great solo work, to The Cellarbirds, to
Gentleman East, he has given us some of the best music that we have ever heard.
And as a producer, he has helped hundreds of other artists. And when it comes
to charity events, he has always been there.
To say we owe him one would be an understatement.
We’ve all owed him one for a
long time.
See you at The Woodlands on
April 11.
