Gabriel Mekler was our producer for the first two albums and he was at most of the rehearsals. The first album, seen above titled Three Dog Night , was originally lacking the added title of "ONE." You can click on the album (and all future ones in this online book) to see an enlargement, with song titles,times and credits. The plan was to get the songs down, play a few gigs to tighten it up and then go in the studio and record. I think we recorded everything in about 3 days, then mixed for another 3 days. I might be exaggerating; it could have been a week. Let me check with the V.O.I.D (Greenspoon). The sessions were done on a Scully 8 track machine with 1" tape. The console, a highbred Altec one, I think. If you go into Sun Studios on Union St. in Memphis, you'll get the idea. It's very similar. They may have changed it by now. Our console had big 2" knobs (pots) on it and a patchbay from hell, with cords that looked like Lily Tomlin used as a phone operator. A small control room that use to be a Chinese restaurant and an echo chamber with a freezer door on it, right off the control room. It was a fabulous chamber. A bathroom right down the hall, the one we used for the weird micing techniques on "Liar," when we stuck a mic into the porcelain toilet for a room mic. We actually ended up using 5 different takes of room (toilet) mic, and one take of the microphone (a Neuman U87) that Danny was singing directly into. If I recall correctly, this was mainly an idea from Danny, together with Richie and Bill. The writings on that bathroom wall are stuff of legend to us. When they tore the studio down, Bill Cooper took a picture of that wall, with all its late night scribbling genius. What a place. What a perfectly wonderful place. Danny and I continue to hammer Richie and Bill for selling that little studio. It was a landmark in rock n roll history. Gone now. Of course they have an incredible new studio that is even better. I'm just nostalgic, like Digger. We have enshrined that place in our minds. Great memories attached to it. It should have been preserved, Richie!

    On the first two albums, Richie Podolor and Bill Cooper engineered the sessions, with Gabriel producing, although Richie was becoming more and more influential in the production department. Gabriel had played, "One" by Harry Nielsson, for Danny, to see what he thought of the tune, but it slipped through the cracks. Chuck later brought the tune to the band, Gabriel having played it for him as well. Looking back, Gabriel had a little more to do with things than I thought on those first two albums.

   Being in the studio was heaven for me, even better than I had imagined it would be. I had very little studio experience, only a couple of previous sessions. This was way different. This was THE STUFF. In the coming albums, I would find myself having to make a decision. I would be doing an overdub and everyone else would be in the booth. So many opinions and ideas can be extremely frustrating when you're the one out in the studio. Consider this: there is a talk back button on the console in the control room. You do a take, then you wait. When they want to talk to you, they press the button and you can hear them. At the same time, your voice/mic is cut off while they're speaking to you. You're sitting there waiting, while 8 or 9 guys discuss your part on the other side of the double glass. But, you can't hear them. You can see their lips moving and the hand gestures, but you can't hear them. Add to this that you are new at this, a rookie, really and with every passing minute without them saying something to you, paranoia starts to set in, followed by crankiness and a testy attitude. They come back on the mic and the first thing you do is GO OFF ON THEM. Funny, but it happens. Many times they had changed the subject and were just talking about what kind of cookies to get next door and had forgotten that I was left hanging. Eventually, everybody had their time out in the studio alone, with the rest of us on the inside. Soon, we had a mutual understanding that only time and studio experience bring. We all began to realize the awkwardness of having to sit and wait, when you can't hear what's being said. Being isolated and your mind left to conjure up the worst possible scenario of what is being said in the booth. It sounds laughable, but ask anybody who has done sessions. Quite unnerving at times. Years and experience definitely helps. I have found that the key to successful recording is knowing that the people on the other side of the glass really like what you play and are in your corner. A great help and an important factor in keeping your cool in those situations. A prerequisite, really. Of course, there is such a thing as a live, two way talk back, but it has it's draw backs, too. If you can imagine 8 people talking at once, on a mic that is not close to them, real roomy sounding (like a bad hearing aid) and you're trying to make it out in the studio. Quite frustrating. Still, the best experience of my life. There came a point when I almost blew my top. Richie and Bill and all the guys were semi-nitpicking my playing. We would have disagreements concerning a part, as to whether I was playing it as had been mutually agreed upon. I mean, down to the bone on whether I should use an upstroke or a down stroke with the pick. I was thinking (reacting, really) "who do they think they are? Nobody knows my playing better than me. How can they be so bold, as to think they know better than me about the guitar stuff?" I was to find out later that, indeed, a good producer with hands off of any instrument, listening in the other room, can be of great help to you. In fact, Richie, and all the band as well, were very into it. In my young, reactiveness I knew I had to make a decision. 1) Do what my heart (butt) told me; just indulge myself and tell these guys to shove it? or, 2) Bite the bullet and maybe grow a little bit. I chose #2. Boy am I glad I did. It opened doors for me musically, that I would never have experienced had I held on to the stubbornness that is so typical of young musicians. This is not to say that it is easy now and that I never feel a twinge. Yes, I still do on occasion. I'm just use to digging deep from all the years we've been doing it. I've been the one in the control room while someone else is out in the studio. I, too, had things to offer to "tweak" the performance to its best result. We all have a great respect for each other, for what we put each other through to obtain the final product. It's Hell. It's Heaven. It's everything and more than I ever dreamed. If there ever was a person, who has found his niche in life, it has to be me. I'm so damn happy, I sometimes feel I could burst.

   The recording studio and particularly the recording and mixing console, are instruments. An instrument, itself, just as much as any that the musicians played. This is why I had to have my own studio years ago, and have one now at my home in Modesto. I will always be a student of the art. If you aren't, you're done. Toast. You have to love it; it has to be your hobby for you to be good at it. I have been so very fortunate in regards to all my experiences in the recording studio. I couldn't have ordered it up any better. The talent pool was tremendous. I wouldn't have known what to ask for, anyway. Richie Podolor and Bill Cooper have been not only my friends, but, my mentors as well. For years, I would stay late after every session, probing their brains, spurring them on with my questions and listening. Listening very, very closely. These guys were there in the foundational stages of rock and roll. Remember the hit song back in 1961 called, "Let There Be Drums," by Sandy Nelson? Richie did that. He engineered the sessions with Sandy Nelson and then created the song by editing, with a blade and tape, not a digital recorder, then spliced the pieces together and wallah, he created the song. Hit record. Remember a song in the 50's called "Dark Moon" (oh way up high, up in the sky, oh tell me why, oh tell me why you've lost your splendor? Dark Moon.") Richie played guitar on that, a long time back, I know. If I told you all the credits between these two guys, Richie and Bill, you would think I was putting you on. I may go for it later in this schpiel of mine. Of course, Richie and Bill did all of Steppenwolf's hits at the same small studio in North Hollywood on Ventura Blvd. There was, and still is, a burger joint next door called FAT JACKS. Ran by less than macho proprietors. Their slogan: "IF YOU CAN'T EAT IT ... BEAT IT!" Great burgers. The slogan is a riot.

   And so, our career had started. Let's take a break from all (well, most) of this reading. You know me, usually a connotation with a picture. Let me share some special tidbits with you. Just click on the "next page" link below to continue. --Michael-- P.S. On the following pages always check to see if there is a scroll bar activated. Many times there will be additional pictures and text if you scroll down.