by Ken Lieck
Looking
at John Croslin, the last mantle
you would likely assign this quiet, gangly, curly-haired man is that of Record
Producer. In fact, the first Mantle called to mind looking at Croslin would be
the late Mickey; you picture John comfortably sitting around his house watching
a ballgame, or maybe spending some quality time with his wife and kids. Well,
he does a lot of both, and that, partially, is the secret of his success as a
Record Producer.
To hear Hunter Darby of the Wannabes, a band for whom Croslin has produced the
bulk of their work, tell it, recording an album with Croslin is less a job than
an afternoon out with the boys. “The atmosphere [in Croslin’s backyard studio
where their latest album Popsucker, was recorded] is great. We’d do some
songs, drink some beers, watch a playoff game for the NBA, do some more songs,
and then play kickball with his kids.” Croslin, he says, is simply unflappable
in the often tense situation of recording an album. “Some days a band member
will come in and have a bad day. Well, he was in a band and knows what a
bad day is. I’ve seen him repeatedly have to stop between takes to go out and
help someone restart a lawn mower. No matter what, he always keeps the attitude
that `It’s gonna be alright.'”
But just being a nice guy with a sixer and a bag of chips handy doth not a
successful producer make, needless to say. There’s also a little matter of
experience and a good ear for what a band should sound like. Croslin says that
he doesn’t see himself as the type of producer who can create something that
isn’t already there in a band. He feels his job is to capture what is and present it in as exciting a way as possible. His simple reasoning behind
what makes for a good recording is a band that is together, with a clear
understanding of what all the members want, and that is prepared to listen to
someone who is trying to help them realize the above. Britt Daniel of Spoon,
whose just-completed Croslin-produced album is getting lots of major-label
attention while in the “shopping” stage, calls Croslin the “greatest arbitrator
— he makes the band members get along with each other.”
Croslin’s pet peeve is bands with no spirit of experimentation. “It really
bugs me when a band says `that’s not how we play it live!'” He cites that
attitude as the reason that so many great live bands have come and gone without
ever having made a truly good record. “They’ll insist on doing the same thing
they do live, and [on tape] it just doesn’t come off that way.” The disasters
he’s encountered in producing, however, are few, and mostly involve band
members simply not showing up for a session (though there was that time during
a Cotton Mather recording session when the power completely went out at Music
Lane, and it took a couple of hours before someone realized that some wise-ass
kid biking through the alley had decided to flip a power switch outside that no
one had ever thought to lock up). He adds, though, that he tries “to stay away
from computers.”
Croslin is still best known to most locals as the co-vocalist/main songwriter
for the legendary Austin band the Reivers (originally known as Zeitgeist before
another band claimed legal copyright to that name). Croslin produced or
co-produced most of the band’s albums on the dB and Capitol labels and, as
Darby puts it, “got a rap through that for being a troublemaker.” Rather than
being a control freak who insisted on helming his band’s albums, however, it
was largely by default that Croslin began producing Reivers’ records as the
various producers assigned to the band by their labels repeatedly didn’t work
out. “I had to do it,” he says today, “or it just wasn’t going to get done.”
The record business troubles that plagued Zeitgeist/the Reivers from day one
are legend in themselves and would make for another long story altogether; in
the context of this story, what is mostly important is that such circumstances
led the group to an early breakup and Croslin far from the urge to start
another band.
“I’ve known for a long time that the studio was where I always had my fun,” he
says of his decision to jump with both feet into the producing field (although
in fine Austin tradition, he still also holds the all-important Day Job). And
though it’s partially the fact that he produced those major label albums for
his band that put him in demand as a producer, he says that “to be honest, it’s
been more of a hindrance than anything — I’m still in the ongoing process of
telling people that I’m not in a band. I couldn’t have learned without
[producing] the Reivers, but it’s not my best work.”
True enough, the sound quality of those early efforts, some recorded in big
Hollywood studios, falls flat compared to the work he’s been doing more
recently with bands like Sixteen Deluxe, Gomez, Sincola, and the Setters in
smaller Austin studios — including the small shack in his backyard that more
closely resembles a tool shed. Able to stand back and listen to what makes a
band tick, he continues to hone his skills, and has “30-40” production credits
under his belt at this date, key among them three albums from the Wannabes, who
Croslin calls “the great American band.”
Listening through the three projects is like following Croslin’s education as
a producer — though he personally credits the band’s own increasing skills as
the primary force behind the steadily increasing sense of power in the sound of
each album. The first, the cassette-only Lucky Pierre, failed to
showcase the group’s wilder side, while the second, Mod Flower Cake,
following a forebodingly long mixing time, was a blast. And with the third, the
new Popsucker, Croslin and the band decided to go the whirlwind
live-in-the-studio route, with even more spectacular results. The three
together practically form a textbook case of Croslin’s ability to realize a
band’s potential. “With the first one,” says Darby, “he showed us a picture of
a tiger. With the second, he let us see the cage, and with the third, he sent
us in to feed it.”
And what Croslin is currently looking forward to, aside from a couple of
possible dream production jobs he’d rather not jinx with premature discussion?
“I’m hoping that the Spoon record [is picked up by a big company]. Having a hit
record on a major label that was done in my garage would be a big thrill.” n
This article appears in November 3 • 1995 and November 3 • 1995 (Cover).