Could you describe your first meeting with Bowie? Were you a long time fan? What is it like collaborating with someone of his stature? Is it harder to constructively criticize in the studio because they may be so revered?
I met David one day in the spring of 1996 at the Looking Glass Studios. At the time, I was based out of there - I had a MIDI programming studio in the complex, and because of that I used to do a lot of my NYC-based recording work in their studios. Composer Philip Glass was the connection – he was the ‘Glass’ in Looking Glass, and David knew him from his then-recent symphonic adaptation of 'Low'. So, on a Monday I believe, David and Reeves Gabrels walked through the door, and they fell in love with the place immediately – the big control room, the window with a view of the Manhattan Bridge, the neighborhood. They were going to bring along an engineer from the Hit Factory, where they had been working up until then – but then decided it would be better to use somebody who knew the room, which was me. I think they also checked out my discography as well. A couple of weeks of recording turned into a seven-year-stay in Bowie world, where I moved from engineer to mixer to producer to musician to performer, usually occupying several of those roles at the same time.

I’m sure I was a little bit giddy at that first meeting. After all, it was a fairly momentous thing for me - I’d really grown up with David’s music. I first heard ‘Space Oddity’ in early 1973 when I was 11 years old - I can still recall the moment in my bedroom. I soon learned that it was from this singer I’d seen on TV – ‘Midnight Special’ or ‘Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert. I remember exactly when the ‘Diamond Dogs’ album was released - the cover kind of freaked out my dad when we saw it at the record store … a ‘what’s the world coming to’ kind of thing. ‘The Jean Genie,’ Rebel Rebel’ and ‘1984’ were all radio hits around that time. Given the AOR nature of radio in those days, I remember hearing ‘ Aladdin Sane’ a few times too. ‘Fame’ was obviously a huge song – how DID they make those voices go funny? - but the ‘Station to Station’ album was really where I got nailed. They used to play a lot of that record on WPLJ and WNEW, major FM stations at that time (1976) in New York. ‘Golden Years’, ‘TVC-15’ and ‘Stay’ were staples. ‘Stay’ was especially powerful for me as a young musician, as it summed up everything I was into at the time – rock mixed with funk, extended jamming, time changes, all wrapped up around a great melody. I could never imagine at that point in my teen geekdom that I’d get to perform that song with the man who created it, some twenty plus years down the road. It still freaks me out.

Working with established artists, especially someone at David’s level, presents different challenges than working with those who have lesser experience, fame, or success. Though I’m hired to give my impression of what sounds good or how to steer the proceedings, with an artist like David you tend to follow his lead and help him go where he wants to go - to be more of a facilitator. There’s a different dynamic to the way you push an artist like that. He’s knows the process well, and he’s got the direction - you just need to help him realize it in the real world, with the tools that are available and the tricks you’ve collected over the years. In the end, it was an absolute blast to make music with him - regardless of whether I was twisting knobs, or looking for samples, or coaching the sound man on the ‘Tonight Show,’ or tweaking a set list, or playing guitar behind him in a Roman amphitheatre. It was like being in the coolest club ever. You can’t help but feel validated as a musician when you’re in a world like that – if David Bowie values your contributions, then you must be doing something right.

To some degree, it is a bit harder to criticize an artist whose work has helped shape you musically, and whose music has been there for a large part of your life. Especially at the beginning of the relationship - it takes time to figure out how any artist will react in certain situations, and to certain types of criticism. It’s a matter of maintaining some distance, and objectivity – more so in the case of an artist like David, where their past work may affect both your vision and your eagerness to spoil the party, so to speak. Still, I figured out early that if I simply showed my sincerity and passion for the quality of the work, I could just lay my cards on the table. It helps that David welcomes that from his colleagues, and is brilliant at disarming everyone around him.

I also learned to just wait sometimes, to be patient and see where the trip took us. David would suggest some really interesting left turns, and your first response could be ‘that’s just nuts!’ or ‘why would we try that?’ or ‘how can we even DO that?’ But, I’d find that if we moved forward and pursued the idea, slowly but surely, that most of the time he’d be right on. Or, in the process we’d take yet another turn, and the result would be a complete surprise to all. That sort of thing has influenced my work to this day – to give an idea a chance, even if on first impression it might seem to be completely off-the-wall.

When I first started working with him, every once in a while when I’d be at the console I’d look over at David at the back of the studio – if he weren’t singing or playing, he’d be on the couch by the window, either reading or writing lyrics. The sunlight would catch him at just the right angle, and for a split second it’d hit me - shit, it’s Ziggy.

Earthling sounds like an album made by enthusiastic musicians, seriously excited by new, digital technology. Is that accurate? Was it the dawn of pro-tools and making entire records on laptops, which is so commonplace today?
‘Earthling’ was an album made by people having a very, very good time, and not worried about pleasing anyone but themselves. It was a rare moment for me at that time - most of the records you work on have to pass muster with industry types at some point, and some of their concerns may not exactly put the music first. David was usually immune to that sort of meddling. When the suits did come by, they certainly wouldn’t tell David how to ‘improve’ a song or tell him what his single was going to be. One time in particular somebody did try to force a blatantly commercially motivated decision, and it didn’t fly at all. David’s exact quote? ‘I will not make product.’ I always loved that.

I think Looking Glass, and Soho in New York City, had a lot to do with that record as well. Reeves and Gail soon began calling Looking Glass the 'Clubhouse'. The staff at the studio was accommodating yet quirky. The local eateries and the big window with the view of the outside world also added a lot. David and Reeves would go out to art galleries while I stayed behind looking for sounds or fixing something. It was incredibly comfortable and loose. Friends from the DB universe would pop in - David Lynch, Tony Oursler, Lou Reed, others. My three-year-old daughter would come in and play David's sax after hours. Of course, he never knew about that.

Yes, we were excited about the technology as far as the ability to move things about in a freer manner than we had been accustomed to. It was early on as far as making records inside of computers, and we used that to a great degree on ‘Earthling’ - in fact, all of my record work after that took a similar turn. What used to take hours as far as experimenting with song arrangements, edits, or combinations of different elements now only took minutes, or even seconds. After a couple of examples David realized this, and off we went. It really sped the process along and kept ideas flying. It’s no mystery that the album was done so quickly.

Those were heady times – you felt like you were in the middle of a major change as far as how music was being captured and then manipulated.

Is he funnier, more down to earth than his image might suggest? Many of his lyrics are hilarious.
Oh, absolutely. Humor was a big part of it, everyone having a good laugh. Always - in the studio, on the bus, at the airport, backstage … anywhere and everywhere. Provided the music was working, of course. There were so many funny moments, so many running jokes. David would make fun of me in my bike shorts; I'd tell him and Reeves to piss off and go find an art gallery. During the recording of ‘Reality,’ we used to watch ‘The Office’ at lunch while doing the basic tracks - he’d gotten them sent over from England before anybody here really knew about it.

How do you think Earthling holds up a decade on? Has the song quality and conviction helped it survive sounding at all dated? I think it’s his best album of the 90s period and transcends any potentially ephemeral sonic crazes it embraced, in the same way a Beatles song like “Within Without You,” transcends its fad Eastern conceits, but I would love to hear your take on it since you made it.
IS it dated? What record isn’t, to a certain degree? You can’t help but live in the present, to use the tools that are available to you, to embrace what’s close to you and within your grasp. In one sense, The Beatles sound dated … they sound like the 1960’s. Louis Armstrong - he sounds like the 1930’s. Sinatra? Pick your decade for Frank ...

Having said that, I still think of ‘Earthling’ as being a quite singular record. More importantly, it still kicks ass. It was a moment in time, made with no pretense or calculation. It was done just too quickly for that. It was honest, and you can hear that whether you agree with the tilt of the production or not. Still, to this day I occasionally see it derided in the press as David’s ‘jungle’ record or ‘drum and bass experiment.’ People are entitled to their opinions, but I do disagree. The ‘drum and bass’ feel we created isn’t exactly authentic. Though we understood the mechanics of how those records were made, none of us were really willing to nail the exact vibe of the tracks that spearheaded that movement. Last I checked, ‘Seven Years in Tibet’ was not exactly carrying the torch of jungle. ‘Dead Man Walking’ is an animal all its own – it grows from techno-ish beginnings to a completely organic track. And ‘Looking for Satellites’ - it’s a waltz, already. It all just went through the Bowie filter, like any other Bowie album.

(I may be in the minority in that I adore the Eastern instrumentation of ‘Within You Without You.’ For other bands at the time, it was a fad, but since the Beatles sort of started the whole raga-rock thing with ‘Norwegian Wood,’ I guess they get a pass.)

Something to remember is that it’s the songs that last in people’s minds, not the production. Though a production can make a song better and more fully realized, it is not what people tend to hold on to. The one directive David did have at the time was that he wanted ‘Earthling’ to be a melody-driven record. And that was certainly never in question.

You can’t help but wonder when you’re making a record how time is going to look at it when you’re five, ten, twenty years down the line. But you can’t let that dictate the process.

I’ve been listening, obviously to lots of Bowie’s records over the last year and I notice that on Earthling, he’s using his old Anthony Newley super-English accent. Was that a conscious decision on his part? Fit the tone of the songs?
I haven’t a clue. He has so many different sorts of vocal characters, and how and when he chooses to employ one in particular is just another part of who he is as an artist.

He sang what he sang, and he sang it quickly. I’d never seen anybody plunk down vocals so fast - I still haven’t. Most of his vocals were first or second take, and he’d only have another go if he forgot a word or wanted to change the lyric later on. He cranked out the lyrics accordingly – writing them on Post-It notes on the couch at Looking Glass while Reeves and I would be tinkering with the track. Then he’d gather up his little pile of them and go sing, and a little while later we’d have it.

Coming off a reunion with Eno and a restored respectability (after the critical drubbing Tin Machine got and the commercial disappointment of Black Tie) did Bowie seem confident to you? More adventurous? How sure of himself is he when making a record? Or does he require huddling on every idea? You know, “I’d like to begin this song with “Nowhere… shampoo… tv…. Comeback. What do you think?” Or “These are the lyrics.”
There wasn’t really time for any huddling, we were too busy working! We were cranking out a song idea per day. There was no second guessing - just getting down the thoughts of the three of us, trying out whatever we could, and then finalizing song arrangements so that the band could come in and play on top of it. Was there confidence? By the bucket, from everybody involved. That’s what made it go so quickly, even in mixing. I’d never been through anything like it. As far as lyrics, that was solely David’s department.

Personally, I was more than ready to make that record. I’d been waiting the entire decade for an artist to step up to the plate and combine the elements of rock, beats, and melody into a coherent whole, as well as to embrace everything I had to offer on the musical as well as the technical side. I could probably speak for Reeves on this point as well - he was positively brimming with ideas, throwing everything possible into the pot.

Still, though I say the ‘three of us’ – meaning David, Reeves, and myself - this was solely in terms of the pre-production/writing phase of the record, which lasted two weeks. Though this period was when the main chunk was written, and thus determined the direction of the record, it was also David’s intent that ‘Earthling’ was to be a band record - the band from the ‘Outside’ tour. They were still gigging at the time - they’d be doing shows on weekends while we were recording. So, after the initial two-week session Gail Ann Dorsey, Mike Garson, and Zach Alford came in and took it to the next level.

Earlthling sometimes gets criticized for being one of the first Bowie records since the 60s where he’s following as opposed to leading other artists. Is that unfair? Or was he simply excited by jungle and drum and bass sounds and club music and was confident enough in his accomplishments to just embrace it?
It IS unfair. When he co-opted soul in the 70’s, he didn’t get that sort of grief - he was rightfully called an innovator. How is ‘Earthling’ any different? He was excited by a vibe and wanted to jump in the water …. yet in typical DB fashion, he made the pool his own. I believe he was genuinely excited by dance music, and the way it changes and reinvents itself in such an organic way, from bedroom to bedroom, club to club – under the radar of industry rules. I think he was truly inspired, and he believed in what we were doing - another reason for our brisk pace.

What was the mood in the studio during the darker, funkier tracks like “Seven Years in Tibet,” and “The Last Thing You Should Do?”
The mood was pretty much the same all around – excitement, energy. I think there tends to be more of a general mood for an album as opposed to a particular song, though obviously there are shades to that. Also, ‘The Last Thing You Should Do’ was almost an afterthought – it was intended as a B-side or bonus track. It was cranked out in a day or two at most. It just turned out so well that it made the record.

What do you think of the NIN remix of ‘I’m Afraid of Americans’ vs. the original? Is Earthling his most remix-able album?
I love the NIN version, as the version of ‘Americans’ on ‘Earthling’ was my least favorite track on the album. It was initially recorded on the ‘Outside’ sessions, and we used bits and pieces of that along with new parts to come up with a new version. It never felt as complete as the other tracks we did from scratch.

It felt like Trent really got to the heart of it, which I suppose is why that version became a huge part of the one we’d perform live.

This would be around the time that the internet pretty much began Matrixing all over us. Was Bowie glued to the web at the time?
He already had Bowienet going by then so, yes, he was more than into it. But, the studio wasn’t really connected during ‘Earthling,’ so it wasn’t a constant thing while we were working. By the next record I’d say we were all pretty hooked.

How do you design a track like “Little Wonder,” or any track you’ve done in the past with other artists, for the dance floor. Do you imagine a crowd? Does it have to pass some kind of disco test? Do you bring someone in off the street, hand them a glow stick and observe?
Doing specific dance mixes is a different thing entirely. There are rules to follow as per genre – techno, house, etc.; tempos to adhere to so that records can be seamlessly mixed; certain standards as far as sounds, and definite fashions as well. I remember there being something like a ‘snare of the week’ back when I was in that universe, and of course the ubiquitous Roland 909 kick drum. Generally, DJ’s tend to be remix producers as they are the ones in the clubs seeing what works and what doesn’t.

Were you at DB’s 50th birthday at MSG? What was it like if so? Did you observe any midlife crisising at all during this period or did he seem well adjusted?
I participated in the rehearsal and then the recording of the show, and helped arrange a good chunk of the material. I was at both the show and the after-show party. The mood was up, positive, but intense – a lot of work had to be done in a very short time. I’d never really been on that side such an intense live production - I’d been in the studio for the past decade, where you can take your time to some degree. Work started on it began when we were mixing ‘Earthling,’ so we basically never stopped. The logistics of it all - so many musical guests, filming & recording - were just staggering to me. ‘Hallo Spaceboy’ had three drummers!

Still, once the ducks were all in a row, the concert was so, so great. Wonderful atmosphere. It went off without a technical hitch. All the guests were so happy to have been a part of it.

The party afterward was amazing – it was in Julian Schnabel’s loft in the West Village. After all the preparation, and then the pressure of pulling off such a gig, the mood was euphoric for all. David seemed so happy, so relieved the work was done and that it went over so well. I’d use the word ‘beaming,’ actually. It was the first sort of celebrity-studded event I’d ever been to, so it was kind of nuts for me. That’s where I met Robert Smith, and how I ended up working with The Cure.

Hours is, if albums indeed have moods, a much different affair. Softer, darker, somewhat sadder even. How was it different in the studio, and how was your approach/contribution different compared to Earthling?
‘Hours’ was much, much different. I wasn’t involved from the beginning like I was on ‘Earthling.’ It wasn’t even begun as an album per se – the music was meant for a computer game called ‘Omikron.’ David and Reeves began recording on their own in Bermuda some time early in 1998, after the ‘Earthling’ tour. Musically, it was sort of the ‘anti’ Earthling – no beats, no technology, just naked songs. Next, they went to London to work at a small studio to do overdubs and basic mixes. At some point in the process, David figured out that with a little more work it could be an album, so they returned to New York. One day out of the blue I got a page with all 6’s - the Number of the Gabrels, of course. First, they asked me to play bass on it – THAT was a big surprise. Next, there were pieces of different takes of songs in different formats - some on tape, some in the computer - so I helped them gather it all together and combine parts from different versions into new masters. After that, I helped finish it up - we added drums, recorded the remaining overdubs, and mixed it. A couple of B-sides were done on the spot as well.

It’s possibly the most reflective Bowie album since Hunky Dory. Although you can never assume, “If I’m Dreaming my Life,” and “Survive,” seem as such.
There was a different flavor to the songs, especially in respect to the previous record (no Post It notes this time as far as I could tell). I try not to interpret lyrics other than to find my own meaning in them - which I think is the point. ‘Survive’ hit me in particular because I was going through my own rough patch at the time, so I connected with it. And, it did indeed feel a little heavier overall than ‘Earthling.’ But, as far as THE meaning to any set of lyrics, the meaning the artist had in mind … you can never really tell unless you go to the source.

“What’s Really Happening”: a noble experiment or a true success? Is the arrangement psychedelic? Was that the intent? Again, a product of super-enthusiasm over the sheer possibility of digital and web technology?
“What’s Really Happening” was really cool to do – it was a new way to reach out to his fans. Sure, it was an experiment – what wasn’t? Remember, there was no blueprint for any of those sorts of things. We were doing web chats around the same time - they felt incredibly cutting edge! Of course, now everybody does these sorts of things. Enthusiasm? Obviously, yes … we all really enjoyed it.

What about Gabrels departure at this point? How good a fit was Page Hamilton on the tour?
Reeves’ departure was a shock to us all. It happened right after the ‘VH-1 Storytellers’ show. Basically, the ‘Hours’ tour was set to begin shortly after that, and of course it was a given that Reeves would be there … why think otherwise? From the time I’d been there, Reeves had been a pillar of the DB team. At times, he was the interface between David and myself - I’d sound out certain things to Reeves before presenting them to David, such as when it came to getting some new piece of gear, trying out a particularly heavy musical idea, or most notably, my playing in the band for the ‘Storytellers’ gig.

Needless to say, once the announcement was made there was a bit of a void. His departure was the reason I became musical director - there were shoes to fill, and being a bandleader is not that far off from running a recording session. And, I was a known quantity, both professionally and personally, so I suppose I was the natural choice at that point in time. I thought ‘Storytellers’ would be it for me – a one-off show with a legendary artist and an amazing band. Not so ...

Next, Page Hamilton was brought in. I felt for Page as it was a tall order to fill in such a short time. He really only knew Sterling Campbell (drums), and he had to learn a ton of material in a very short time – material that, given DB’s catalog, is all over the shop sonically and stylistically. So, we were both getting used to new roles at the same time, and though it took a little bit to get it percolating, it worked out fine. Reeves said later on that it took two people to do his gig, and on one level I could see that … though to be fair, eventually we brought a degree of depth to the band that a single guitarist, even one of Reeves’ genius, couldn’t physically cover. It just went off in a different direction and became something else.

I missed Reeves when he left – we’d gone through a fair bit together, and all over the planet at that. He was like the guitar playing, off-the-wall big brother that is into all sorts of things that you may not quite understand, but hope you’ll be a part of when it’s finally your turn to grow up. And, we liked the same cartoons.

On tour with an artist like Bowie, how do you mix more somber tracks off hours with all of his anthems? What were the audience reactions to these songs? Whereas with Tin Machine or on the NIN tour, it seemed the goal was to just bash out the new ones.
I thought we had amazing set lists. David really tried to mix the old and the new in a clever way, to keep the flow. ‘Survive’ and ‘Something In The Air’ always seemed to work – though they are a bit darker, they are really dynamic as well. On the Heathen tour, we had ‘Heores’ segue into ‘Heathen,’ which was always dynamite.

Bowie’s audience seems pretty much ready for anything. They’re pretty unique in that way as they’d love the mood shifts, and they’d appreciate some of the more obscure tunes we’d bring out from time to time. On the ‘hours’ tour we did ‘Repetition’ off of ‘Lodger’ a few times, and people really ate it up. We also did ‘Alabama Song’ a few years later … same thing. And then we played both the ‘Heathen’ and ‘Low’ albums in their entirety, back to back.

Of course, people love hearing the hits – who doesn’t? - so I think working some of them in was welcomed. We managed to pull off ‘Space Oddity’ one time only, in Denmark. People wept – myself included.

That tour varied widely as far as venue size. What’s it like to play a club one day and a large theater or arena or festival the next?
There was one particular instance where this was really apparent - we’d done the Net Aid concert at Wembley Stadium, and the very next night we did a club in Dublin with a capacity of around 500. Now THAT was a shift … and, in retrospect, the Dublin gig felt tougher. Smaller gigs usually are - you can connect with people easier because they are right next to the stage, as opposed to 50 feet away behind a barricade. At least it was tougher for me at that point, and I have to admit I was pretty green then. (Later on, it wouldn’t matter to me if I played Knebworth or a garage sale.) You certainly couldn’t tell any of that as far as DB was concerned. The size of the crowd didn’t have any sort of obvious effect on him. He just did his pre-show ritual – have cup of tea and then sing a couple of high notes to blow out the cobwebs, typical singer stuff – and that would be it. This was my first time in this role, where I got to see him perform onstage every day … and that was a real privilege, I have to say. He clearly knew this turf.

Still, Wembley was my first stadium show with any artist, and my first real gig with David. So, that was a pretty heavy trip.

What was it like playing Glastonbury?
It was a huge honor to be with David when he was welcomed home to Glastonbury. It was immense, a huge village out in the countryside. You couldn’t really take in the scale of it. The opportunity to play with the headliner, who was making a return after thirty years or so, was something really special. Everyone was confident and ready to rip it up - we were well rehearsed, and we’d done some stellar warm-up shows at Roseland. So, I think we all knew it was going to be great … it was just about the waiting at that point.

David had that crowd from song number one – 'Wild Is The Wind.' Only a handful of artists could pull off a ballad as a set opener at a huge outdoor festival. He was absolutely on fire. It was just a fantastic sight, this entire mini-city of people jumping up and down to 'Rebel Rebel' and singing along with 'Life on Mars'. The energy was incredible. It was a great gig from a playing perspective as well - the bits I’ve heard are fantastic. We did a show the following day at the BBC Radio Theatre, which was recorded – so, we knew for a fact how great that band was. And, my position in the middle of that ‘Diamond Dogs’ triangle of Bowie, Mike Garson, and Earl Slick – what can you say? It couldn’t really get any better. We were all digging the presence of Slick - watching him play ‘Stay,’ a riff he created and played on that record, was pretty unreal.

And, we shared a backstage area with the Happy Mondays, so you can imagine what that was like.

The 9/11 Tribute show?
This is in a category all its own. It didn’t really feel like a concert. We were all too shell-shocked, I guess. As New Yorkers, we’d been violated – and David is nothing if not a New Yorker at this point.

David originally asked me to be in the recording truck working on the broadcast mix, assisting Bob Clearmountain with song cues and whatnot. Gail was going to play on stage with him - she’d be the only one of us. The rest of the group was to be made up of Paul Schaffer and the David Letterman band – they usually do the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame gig and other awards sorts of shows. They were essentially the house band. I asked David if I could play guitar - it was my town, and I wanted to participate in more of a musical way, to be part of it on that level. It just felt like the thing to do, that it was something that was really going to matter to people. And, I guess I was being a little selfish - I knew it was going to be a pretty intense thing, and I wanted to feel that first-hand. David checked into it, and it was cool to add me. In the end it was a good thing all around as I was able to help Paul Schaffer and the band through the less-than-conventional arrangement of ‘Heroes’ - they already had enough on their plate.

David’s opening of the show – solo, on Omnichord, performing Paul Simon’s ‘America’ - was moving, haunting, eerie, to say the least. It was a surreal atmosphere anyway, and that really drove it home. You could hear a pin drop in the Garden. Though once we launched into ‘Heroes’, the roof came off the place.
From my vantage point the audience on the floor was mostly fire firefighters and cops, and they loved every second of it - by the time The Who came onstage, they were totally gone. For me, it was my first time playing at Madison Square Garden, which is a major rite of passage for any rock musician … but it had none of that sort of feeling. It never hit me that I played ‘The Garden.’ It just wasn’t about that. We were all hurting.

As a bassist, how do you rate and how would you describe Gail Anne Dorsey’s style?
Gail is a fabulous and underrated bassist. Her playing doesn’t get the attention it deserves because of one simple thing - that amazing voice she’s been blessed with. As far as her style, it’s hard to say … we’re similar in that way because of the period when we grew up. As Seventies kids we were exposed to and inspired by such a vast palette of music – rock, funk, pop, soul, etc. - and she draws from all of that. Her playing on ‘Earthling’ in particular was dynamite.

What do you think of the Earthling and hours... sleeves? Both pretty iconic at this point, esp. Earthling.
I thought the ‘Earthling’ sleeve was one of the best I’d seen in a long while. He brought over the Union Jack coat and modeled it a bit while we were working. Ideas for the artwork would be put up on the walls of the studio.