Music and Murder Most Foul – The recording visionary Joe Meek

Think back, if you will, to the moments in your life when you first became aware of music. It might have been when your parents had the radio on in the car, when you attended a school concert, or when you heard a record at friend’s house. It was when you first felt the rhythm, were dazzled by the sounds of the various instruments, and were moved by the harmonies and melodies.

To me, the very best music is described by what I have come to call the Three E concept: It is emotive, ethereal, and evocative. Good music is emotive when reaches deep into our body and soul and stirs us to move and dance. The second E, the ethereal quality of music, is what makes the sound seem as if it is wafting in from a distant world.  Those old enough to remember AM transistor radios or Radio Luxembourg recognize the mysterious nature of those broadcasts—as if we were trying to capture a ghost. Third, good music evokes in us thoughts, images, ideas, and memories. 

With this, I would like to introduce you to the late Englishman Joe Meek who, in the late 50s and early 60s not only created many of that era’s unforgettable sounds, but who also crafted recording techniques that hundreds of musicians would, in the following years, make part and parcel of their creative expressions.

First, a step backward. To pass time during the Covid-19 months, I listened to a lot of podcasts about the Beatles. Many are surprisingly good and discuss not only their music, but also the cultural and historical context that surrounded the rise of the Fab Four.

The more I listened however, the more I realized that there are some very peculiar aspects to musical fandom—particularly when it comes to the biggest stars like the Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and other major acts.

Time and again I would hear listeners, ranging from casual fans to experts, attest to the astonishing young age at which they were influenced by their musical heroes. Almost as if they were describing a religious conversion, these commentators would bear witness as to how, at the age of 6 or 7 (or even younger!) that their life’s entire course was set in stone by seeing Paul McCartney, or someone from another group such as Mick Jagger, on television. I wouldn’t be surprised that there are some fans who claim that, while they were still in utero, were nevertheless being influenced by the likes of John, Paul, George, and Ringo!

Indeed, such people are adamant that, at age 6, when they saw the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show their lives were forever changed. I don’t mock such individuals though. In fact, I rather envy them for knowing, even before elementary school, exactly what they were going to do in life. I, on the other hand, was undertaking much more mundane things such as riding my bike or watching the original Batman television series and didn’t have the foggiest idea of charting out a pathway for my future career. All I can say is that it must be nice to have been so perspicacious…

But on Lyttelton’s recording, Meek departed from the established procedures and brought the microphones much closer to the instruments he wished to highlight. He then used compression to limit the loudest sounds and amplify the quietest ones.

On this recording you can hear how he accentuates the brushes the drummer is using and distorts the piano. The result? A sound that catches the ear by its radical departure from what a listener was expecting to hear—certainly not the drums brought so far forward in the mix and a discordant piano! 

While this, and other Meek experiments might sound, no pun intended, extremely basic by today’s standards, his research earned him the reputation of being a maverick. But coupled with a fanatical work ethic and a demanding personality, he brought the studio itself to life and delivered fascinating listening experiences. So revolutionary was his approach and resultant output, that in 2014 New Musical Express, a British trade publication, named him the greatest producer of all time. While many would argue that title should go to Quincy Jones, Sir George Martin, Phil Spector, Brian Wilson, or other greats, this ranking reflects the esteem in which experts hold Meek for his pioneering techniques.

It is easy to get lost in the technical details of Meek’s equipment and recording techniques, and for those who wish to plunge deeper I recommend Barry Cleveland’s outstanding book Joe Meek’s Bold Techniques. Yet whether you are technically detailed or not, you undoubtedly can recognize Meek’s recording basics such as echo, reverb, delay, looping, double tracking, overdubbing, and sound imaging as now being integral to modern music. 

Although Joe could neither play a traditional musical instrument nor sing, his talent (some would convincingly argue genius) lay first in envisaging the textures of music and second, having the technical expertise to bring these ideas to fruition. Sure, raw Rock and Roll, the Blues, and Jazz could be breathtaking just by having the ensemble on stage and jamming away, but Joe envisioned something more—a deeper and broader sonic experience.

Over time, he cobbled together a series of recordings into what today we call a concept album. I Hear A New World was Meek’s sonic vision of outer space. Though never released in his lifetime, it is worth listening to at least once just to hear all the sounds that he created—some quite remarkable for the recording equipment of the era. Fair warning however…this really is not music per se, but experimentation so be sure to listen to it through that frame. 

Eschewing the early 60s trend of more elaborate and spacious studios (EMI and Decca come to mind), Meek decamped to 304 Holloway Road in London where he set up a home studio above a leather-goods store. It was here that, in 1961, he worked back toward more melodic work and created hits such as Angela Jones and the #1 Johnny Remember Me as sung by John Leyton. During these sessions he would spread singers, instruments, and equipment all over the three-floor flat in his quest to capture the sound he wanted—including in the stairwell and in the lavatory.