In the basement of his eastBoulder home, Roy Halee pulls an ornate version of Paul Simon’s debut self-titled album from a wallof gold records. As Simon’sfirst solo effort after the dissolution of Simon & Garfunkel, thealbumrepresentsa career crossroads — both for Simon, who used it to prove his solo genius, and for Halee,who produced it along with a handful of Simon’s other classicalbums.
Tuesdaymarks the 45th anniversary of the record’s release, but Halee had no idea of the importance of the date. At 82 years old, the fine details of his long career have blurred.Nor is he necessarily eager to revisit them.Humility, if not shyness, holds him back when talking about his partnership with Simon.
Though Simon would never affix another ampersand to his name, Halee is a collaborator asmuch as a producer. His influence onalbums like “Paul Simon” and “Graceland” alone — the former one of Simon’s best, the latter — positions him as one of modern music’sgreat architects, even if no one knows it.
“I knew what George Martin did with The Beatles and I looked at my father that way,” said Halee’s second son, Walter,55, who lives near his dad in Boulder and teaches skiing at Eldora Mountain Resort. “But he definitely plays it down.”
Halee’s unassuming residence in Boulder, where he moved fromLong Island a decade ago after visiting his daughter Laurie, who attended the University of Colorado, evincesthatausterity. It’s in stark contrast to the stories he hasfrom his early career, working and cavorting withthe likes of Simon & Garfunkel, who’d become good family friends.
“We’d play pickup basketball with them,” Walter said, with a laugh. “One time, they came over to our house (in New York) and the neighborhood got wind. Before we knew it, there were hundreds of people showing up for autographs.”
The publichas never clamored for Halee in the same way. Needless to say, he’s OK with that.
But some memoriesare too importantto keep a secret.Like the timehe first met Simon, recording Simon & Garfunkel demos that became the folk duo’s debut album, “Wednesday Morning 3 A.M,” at Columbia Records more than 50 years ago.
“If you could have been in the control room and heard what I heard,” Halee said, leaning over the edge of his armchair. “It was obvious there was tremendous talent going on there.”
Yet sometimes, as Halee knows, raw talent isn’t enough. Sometimes, the difference between a commercial flop — which is how“Wednesday Morning 3 A.M” first turned out— and a No. 1 hit is the right producer.Halee, along withfellow behind-the-scenes legend Tom Wilson, proved to be just that. Theyadded drums, electric guitar and bass to thegripping harmonies of the duo’snow famous song “” shootingit to the top spot of Billboard’s Hot 100 chart for two weeks in January 1966.
Whilememories are known to fade, Halee’s glow. Down in his man cave, adjacent to that row of gilded LPs (which have all gone multi-platinum at this point), a vinyl-encumbered shelf harborsHalee’s hard-to-spot Grammy awards. In the next room, a pair of massive speakers and a state-of-the-art turntable sit in front of his favorite recliner. This is where he goes to get away and, when he has to, reflect on his work.
Music is still his passionand pastime. When he’s not with his wife or spoiling his three brown-and-white pointers — each rescued from a North Carolina shelter — he’s here, listening to theNew York Philharmonic on vinyl or playinghis trumpet.
“I studied to be a classical trumpet player and didn’t make it,” Halee said. “But I was lucky. I got a job at CBS Television. Then everything moved to Los Angeles and I was laid off. Lucky again, I walked across the street and got a job with Columbia Records.”
Seven years ago, Halee suffered a stroke, which impacted his speech and dexterity. It’s hindered his ability to play trumpet, a talenthe’s recently recouped. (And aside from the occasional honk and squeak of his thick New York accent, you can hear his voice clearly.)
Halee’s classical ear helped engender good faith early in his career atColumbia,where he started working with rock ‘n’ roll acts like The Lovin’ Spoonful and The Byrds. He even sat in duringthe recording of Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone,” thoughhe doesn’t remember much of that chaotic session.
That classical ear is alsoone of his sonic hallmarks, a rare sensibility that informs theexpansive landscapes of his work with Simon & Garfunkel all the waythrough “Stranger to Stranger,” Paul Simon’s latest. There are also plans for Halee to record Simon’s next album, likely early this year.
Halee isequally known as an industry trailblazer.With Simon & Garfunkel, he became more hands-on through experimentation.Hewas even an early adapter of multi-tracking, a recording technique pioneered byThe Beach Boys and The Beatles. For 1970’s “The Boxer,” he layered each instrument and vocal harmonyon top of each other, instead of recording the whole song live, as was common practice then.The process, which allowed artists to better perfect their recordings or work on one song fromdifferentstudios, would become an industry standard.
Similarly, Simon’s self-titled debut was defined by Halee’s “anything goes” mentality. A well-placed flute on “” or a West African talking drum in “” gave Simon’s solo work an eclectic sound unmatched by other songwriters.
Halee’s derring-do, storied industryknowledge and knack for orchestral arrangements became the building blocks for one of Simon’s most masterful and beloved albums: “Graceland.” At 16 million copies sold, it proved an immensely popular, boundary-breaking effort unlike anything the pop world had heard before.
But first came the hard part.
Simon told Halee that he wanted to record South African music for that new album, specifically in Johannesburgusing a group of black musicians he’d never met before. As the world rallied against the nation’s apartheid government with a cultural boycott, Simon and Halee skirted the black community’s defacto African National Congress leaders, meaning the session had to be done in secret.
To make things more complicated, Simon didn’t bring pre-written music to the session, but wanted the musicians to improvise what would become the basis for the whole album.
“He knew if anybody was going to be able to record that, it was me,” Halee said, raising a hand to his head. “It was one of the hardest jobs I’ve ever done in my life. Aside from the musicians being bused in and the bass player saying ‘Yes, sir,’ the band was used to playing close together, live.”
Culling all of his past experience, Halee strategically positioned the musicians in different areas of the unfamiliar studio and, by placing his microphones just right, figured out a way to record them. Back in New York, he spent countless hours splicing together the carefree jams into fluid songs. Then Simon added his lyrics and vocal melodies on top.
Although Halee is hesitant to say there would be no “Graceland” without him, he knows Simon feels that way. It’s all just a part of their chemistry.
“The creative process between the two of us is really something to see. I get in his head, he gets in my head, and I don’t think that exists anywhere else,” Halee said. “I have turned down lots of well-known artists when I’m busy with Paul, because he’s the best to work with.”
Walter Halee, who gets new music tips from his college-aged children, wishes his dad would record more modern artists.
“I’d love to see him work with Mumford and Sons or some of these folksy bands now, but he’s gotten good recognition through Paul,” Walter said. “And I think he’s enjoys his freedom.”
And, at 82, some would say it’s time to relax. But when Simon calls, he’ll always answer.
“If Paul retires, I’m retired,” he said.
For Simon’s upcoming, as-yet-untitled album, Halee would like to get back to his old-school roots.
While he can’t say much about the record’s concept, he definitely wants to limit his use of computer programs and digital interfaces. Instead, he said, a few vintage mics and a tape machine might do the trick.
“I always looked at it as painting pictures,” he said. “(Digital) takes all of the creativity away from anybody who wants to paint colors. Even the sound digitally — no comparison.”
With that thought, Halee’s eyes light up as he glances toward the sound system occupying a good portion of his basement. After another intense session with Simon, there’s nothing he’d rather do than come back down to his humble cavern, curl up in his chair and listen to the budding tunes they’ve crafted together. The way only a hidden genius can hear them.
