‘Calling out around the world, are you ready for a brand new beat?’
It was 1985, and I found myself in the heart of Westside Studios in Holland Park. Positioned at the mixing desk of the SSL, I was about ten feet away from Mick Jagger as he powerfully delivered that iconic line from Martha Reeves and The Vandellas’ Motown classic, ‘Dancing In The Street’. It marked a year and a day since I had landed my dream job in a professional recording studio, a monumental leap from my previous setup in my dad’s countryside cowshed in Hampshire. The sheer luck of the moment wasn’t lost on me, especially knowing David Bowie was up next to lend his vocals to the track.
Earlier that day, honoring David Bowie’s preference, we had commenced bright and early at 9 am, a surprisingly un-rock ‘n’ roll start time. We had already laid down the backing track for ‘Absolute Beginners’, the title song for the film starring Bowie. The session was proving incredibly productive. My producers, Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley, renowned for their work with Madness and Elvis Costello, were overseeing the soundtrack for ‘Absolute Beginners’, and Bowie had been a frequent presence at Westside Studios.
Around midday, whispers began circulating about Mick Jagger’s impending arrival, hinting at “something with Bowie for Live Aid.” By 1 PM, a percussionist confirmed the rumors, announcing, “I’m here for the Bowie/Jagger session.” My initial assumption was a simple radio promo – ‘I’m David Bowie’, ‘I’m Mick Jagger’, ‘Donate to Live Aid!’– never did I imagine a full recording session. Bowie, maintaining his characteristic enigmatic silence, likely had pre-arranged this with Clive and Alan, keeping it discreet. Soon after, two backing singers arrived, further fueling the excitement with their announcement of being there for the “Bowie, Jagger session!” The studio atmosphere was electric.
Around 5 or 6 PM, Bowie formally announced a pause on ‘Absolute Beginners’. “Mick Jagger’s arriving in about an hour, and we’re recording a track for Live Aid,” he stated, producing a cassette labeled ‘Dancing In The Street’. He handed it to the band – Neil Conti on drums, the late Matthew Seligman on bass, Kevin Armstrong on guitar, and Steve Nieve on piano – instructing them to learn it. Neil Conti took charge, guiding the band as they huddled around the cassette player in the live room, deciphering their parts.
Word of Jagger’s visit had spread quickly. Suddenly, producers from ‘Absolute Beginners’ and various movie personnel, who previously hadn’t shown much interest in the music production, were flocking to the studio, eager to witness the unfolding event. By Jagger’s arrival, the control room was packed with about thirteen onlookers, including children. I anticipated Jagger might be overwhelmed by the crowd, but he entered, momentarily surprised, before immediately focusing on the task at hand. He even brought his daughter, Jade, along.
It became instantly clear that music was deeply ingrained in Mick Jagger’s being. As the band rehearsed sections of the song, stopping to refine arrangements, Jagger was in constant motion. Even mid-conversation, the moment music played, he would start dancing, all while continuing to talk. His enthusiasm was infectious. Witnessing his energy, I remember thinking, ‘I want to be Mick Jagger’s friend!’
Soon, the band was ready, and Mick, David, and backing vocalists Tessa Niles and Helena Springs were guided to a recording booth, separated from the band.
They launched into the first take. The extended drum intro felt unusual at first. Bowie must have requested a specific number of drum bars to precede the song’s actual start. In this initial take, neither Mick nor David sang during the intro, perhaps still deciding on vocal parts.
The energy of the live performance, with the band and singers all recording together, was palpable. It was a rare recording approach, especially in the increasingly clinical 80s. They completed two strong takes and returned to listen. The consensus was that the first take captured the best raw energy.
The decision was made to re-record the vocals. Not due to performance issues, but because recording everyone in the same room resulted in vocal bleed across microphones, complicating the mixing process – a stark contrast to the recording norms of the 60s and earlier! The backing singers quickly and professionally laid down their vocal tracks.
Next, it was Mick’s turn. True to form, Mick performed as if he were commanding a sold-out Madison Square Garden. Witnessing this icon up close was exhilarating. Alan Winstanley assigned me to record Mick’s vocals, placing me directly in Jagger’s line of sight. It was a surreal moment.
Mick delivered two takes with unrestrained passion. The live room was dimly lit, and his signature movements would sometimes take him out of sight momentarily, only to reappear just in time for his next vocal line. There was no need to ask for more feeling; he poured everything into each performance.
We listened back to both takes, acknowledging their brilliance. However, Clive Langer, perhaps emboldened by a few glasses of wine in the presence of these legends, tentatively suggested, “I think there was one word on the second take that was slightly better than the first.” All eyes turned to Clive, then back to Mick, who responded with something along the lines of, “Oh yeah? Let’s have a listen.” I’m unsure if a word from the second take was ultimately used, but Clive, looking sheepish, gave me a knowing glance, indicating he might have overstepped.
Finally, with limited time before their scheduled video shoot in London’s docklands, it was David’s turn.
David’s recording style contrasted sharply with Jagger’s. While he delivered fantastic live vocals with the band – any of which seemed lead vocal worthy – his approach to solo lead vocals was meticulous. He preferred recording line by line, pausing to review each before proceeding. This methodical approach seemed surprising given his vocal talent. He often referenced a demo version for line guidance before recording anew.
Near the song’s climax, I had to execute a precise punch-in and punch-out to re-record a line for David. The margin for error was minimal, especially with analog tape’s unforgiving nature – no ‘undo’ button existed then! I managed it cleanly. With that, the vocals were complete.
It was time for a rough mix for the video shoot’s sound engineer. Being diligent, I started recording onto two cassette players – my standard practice. I thought Mick and David might want to review the mix en route to the set. As the song neared its end, David’s manager, Coco, noticed a cassette recording and exclaimed, “Are you recording a cassette?!” “Yes,” I replied, “In case you need one.” She didn’t mention the second cassette, so neither did I. “I’ll take that, please,” Coco requested firmly. I handed over one cassette. When she wasn’t looking, I discreetly pocketed the other, hiding it under the mixing desk. This is how I came to possess a copy of that initial rough mix.
David generously invited everyone to the video shoot. Though tempted, I was drained – mainly from the day’s nervous energy. Plus, a shower was definitely in order after sweating through the vocal session!
Post-video shoot, Mick took the tapes to New York for brass overdubs and additional bass parts. Prog rock keyboardist Rick Wakeman later added piano. The legendary Bob Clearmountain mixed the track. I was incredibly proud to see my engineer credit on the record sleeve.
