How were you initially approached about Paul’s book, and how do you think it came out?
I’m a big fan of both of these guys so it was an automatic yes. Rick went through the motions diplomatically inquiring if I would be offended if they wrote about it. And of course there is so much more that we know about it now than any of us did in 2002 when Andy Gill and I began our book. Rick’s book “Everybody’s Heard About The Bird” is a bible of legendary American music. I was flattered to have a couple of pros tell the larger story about six human beings thrown together, the lean years that preceded and followed the best six minutes of guitar I ever played before or since. Who wouldn’t be thrilled?
Rick is one badass interviewer, a psychological wizard who brings buried memories to the surface from all of his subjects. Reading how all the guys framed that moment in their highly personal context was cathartic. Rick showed an intense interest in the story and came to each interview armed to the teeth with scholarly questions. It was a good call because Paul and I go back so far he was already prepared to contribute color to Rick’s findings. I hold high hopes that this book will become a steady seller as Dylan’s imprimatur continues to grow with each new generation.
What were your impressions both during the sessions and over time? Did Paul’s book have any effect on your recollections and feelings about the project?
At the sessions I was content to be in the room. All these cats were better musicians than me. Gregg Inhofer was my hire, and would return that favor before the wheel of karma had spun twice. I waited and watched quietly, minding my manners, grateful to be alive, feeling lucky to witness history.
My turn came around on January 30, courtesy of Gregg Inhofer, who had put in a good word for me over the weekend. The song was Tangled Up In Blue. I had absentmindedly advised Bob to move it up from G to A, forgetting who he was, but he took the bait, and Take One in the key of A recorded live in the studio by engineer Paul Martinson on 1/4” safety tape became the master we hear today. It was not mixed from the 2-inch multitrack until 2003 for a Sony SACD release, and again by Steve Addabbo for “More Blood, More Tracks” in 2018. What we all heard for thirty plus years had no overdubs, no processing, no mixing and no headphones for Bob, thank you. It is a live recording. Bob Dylan was in the flow, in the zone. We witnessed his genius firsthand, random participants in an historic recording. A thousand musicians just like us were similarly swept into Dylan’s orbit over the decades. Google Rob Stoner.
Six minutes later we all went silent, looking at our shoes. I had played my part with more power and emotion than I realized, trading rhythmic strums with Dylan by the end of the fourth verse. Direct eye contact with Bob Dylan brought out the best I ever had to give.
What were your feelings after the BOTT sessions, and have they changed?
In the long silence that followed I sensed that history would come calling and thought about my grandchildren hearing this one day.
You knew David Zimmerman long before the BOTT sessions. You touch on it in Paul’s book, but can you elaborate on the differences in their personalities. Do you think your relationship with David helped up in meeting and working with Dylan?
I became a diehard Dylan fan in 1964 with the release of The Times They Are A Changin’ album. Fresh off a summer stock gig with the Medora Musical, I sought out Dylan’s younger brother David in 1969 after reading about his musical discovery, Michael Lessac, for whom he produced an album on Columbia Records. David became friends with my mother, a trained concert pianist, and they brainstormed ideas on how to present my early songs, equal parts Neil Young and Bob Dylan. David and I remained friends from that time. When I returned home in ‘71 from the Greenwich Village folk scene with a recording contract in my pocket he agreed to produce it. That was my introduction to Sound 80, where I returned often with and without David at the helm. We stayed in close contact, and when Bob came in for the holidays with a so-so album master, David intervened, calling me for street-level savvy on finding a particular guitar for the sessions that followed.
David is a quiet, compassionate soul who found himself in the glare of impossible fortune and handled it better than most anyone I’ve met, and I’ve met a few characters.
We all know, or at least think we know, the source of Dylan’s BOTT songs? In the studio, did he ever saying anything about his family situation?
Never. We met Jakob and hung out like neighbors in a garage band at Sound 80. The work, however, spoke volumes.
One of the main points in the book, and something you touched on, is how comfortable Dylan felt with his fellow Minnesota musicians. Did you notice that in the studio, and how natural was that camaraderie? Did it happen right away, and grow with the time in the studio?
Chris Weber broke the ice with his tremendous empathy for Bob and beautiful guitar playing. He had magnificent tone and played like an angel. Bob took to him instantly and things lit up from there. When Bob met drummer Bill Berg, an underclassman from Hibbing High School, Studio A morphed into a farmhouse jam.
What was your reaction to not being listed in the album credits, and do you think that has been rectified with the “More Blood” box set?
I had to let it go for the next thirty years. By the eighties I’m in Hollywood running a songwriters trade association and my name isn’t on the record jacket. I can’t mention it. I can’t even bring it up in conversation or I lose all credibility, my calling card in the fraught copyright politics of the eighties.
Paul Metsa rescued us from oblivion. He jump-started the campaign that rekindled the bond we’d stumbled into long ago. In the new millennium he put the studio band back together at First Avenue to play the five songs we’d recorded. We carried on playing together in various configurations for the next seventeen years, and kept Dylan’s management apprised of our musical campaign for credits. One year after our last show we were all gifted the new boxed set “More Blood, More Tracks” by Jeff Rosen in Dylan’s office. Our names were all printed on the album, spelled correctly in bold typeface.
Peter Ostroushko and Chris Weber died shortly after that. Our journey together was complete, and we have Paul Metsa to thank for bringing it all back home.
How much had you worked with the other BOTT musicians before the Dylan session?
I always chose Gregg Inhofer when I had a budget to work with before the Dylan sessions. Bill Berg and Billy Peterson were gods to everyone in the midwestern music scene. I never dared to approach them until after we got to know each other better. Now we are besties and chat often. Chris and I did several dates together after the sessions with our good friend Magic Marc Percansky. Chris was like a fellow camper to me, a positive influence-big brother type. I looked up to him. Peter’s earthly presence was a gift from heaven. Every note he played was, to quote him, a “conversation with God.” I hired him for every gig I could through December 5, 2017 when we played our last gig together at the Aster Cafe. His music rings in my ears every day. He did not die in my world.
Do you have a personal favorite track from the ones you cut, and, if so, why?
I played only on Tangled Up In Blue. My favorite Minneapolis cut is Idiot Wind because it matches the raw emotion of Like A Rolling Stone.
You’ve written a splendid book of your own about the BOTT experience. How does Paul’s book differ in that regard?
As Paul Harvey used to say on the radio “And now here’s the rest of the story”.