You should never judge a person by their name.
movingtheriver assumed Ted Templeman – a favourite producer back in the day courtesy of his work with Van Halen, Little Feat, Doobie Brothers and more – was your typical seasoned/grizzled rock’n’roll journeyman.
But nothing could be further from the truth. Reading his enjoyable memoir (and looking at the cover), he turns out to be a mild-mannered jazz drumming prodigy turned pretty-boy frontman with late-‘60s baroque pop band Harpers Bizarre.
His story takes us from post-war Santa Cruz, California, to the upper echelons of the US music biz during boom time, when Templeman was a house producer for Warner Bros. (alongside Gary Katz, Michael Omartian, Jay Graydon and Lenny Waronker), becoming one of the wealthiest and best respected record execs of his era.
We learn about his youth studying the Cool School jazzers, then his pop band Harpers Bizarre gets signed by Warners and he’s mentored by Waronker, quickly learning what A&R actually means – choosing the right songs for the artist and assessing their commercial strengths and weaknesses. He also witnesses first-hand the weird action around the Doors, Beach Boys and Phil Spector.
But he quickly realises he’s not cut out for fronting a band, and moves on to being Warner Bros’s tape listener, hanging around Frank Sinatra sessions and getting the nod from Waronker to produce his pet project, the Doobie Brothers.
Then there are some fascinating sections on working with Van Morrison – he sees the frustrations of being a co-producer at first hand when they release the ‘wrong’ mix of ‘Tupelo Honey’. But he also sees Morrison’s more humorous side – during the recording of the live album It’s Too Late To Stop Now, Ted, sitting in the mobile studio outside The Rainbow, hears Van frequently saying, ‘Didja get that, Ted?’ into the mic between songs.
Templeman forges a long-term relationship with his engineer Donn Landee and starts working with Little Feat. He sparks a great friendship with their mainman Lowell George and is fascinated to find that he is a model airplane fan. But when pushed, Lowell claims he’s just learning about them so he he can fly in drugs from Mexico. He also learns a lot about drums working in Sunset Sound studio 1 with Richie Hayward.
Then there’s recording Carly Simon on Another Passenger, and her relationship with James Taylor, before Templeman first comes across Van Halen via a concert in Pasadena. They quickly become his second obsession, though he’s deeply unsure about Dave Lee Roth’s vocals and general attitude (the book is full of strikingly honest reflections, and he’s quick to admit when he’s wrong).
The main chunk of the book deals with recording Van Halen, from the classic debut to the painfully laboured 1984. He even confesses to initial scepticism about ‘Jump’, kvetching to Eddie: ‘I signed a heavy metal band’! But he somehow enlists Eddie to guest on rollerskating freak Nicolette Sheridan’s ‘Can’t Get Away From You’.
Templeman eventually becomes a great fan of Lee Roth, though advises him not to leave Van Halen and try to be a movie star (though still ends up producing Crazy From The Heat). He also worries about getting Sammy Hagar into VH, suggesting they change their name to Van Hagar, and refuses to produce 5150.
There’s an amusing meeting with Prince at Sunset Sound and the Purple One’s reaction to Templeman’s suggestion that Quincy Jones produce Purple Rain. And then there’s Allan Holdsworth, a Warner Bros. signing coming via Eddie Van Halen’s recommendation. Eddie and Templeman are contracted to co-produce Road Games, but Holdsworth refuses to allow them in the studio together while he’s recording! A baffled Eddie bows out, and then Holdsworth demands that a few tracks feature vocals against Templeman’s best advice (of course Allan has his own take on the Road Games debacle…).
The mild-mannered Michael McDonald is a regular character in the book, uncharacteristically going ballistic for not getting co-writing credit for Van Halen’s ‘I’ll Wait’. We learn about Aerosmith drummer Joey Kramer’s opinion of Templeman’s work on their comeback album Done With Mirrors, and Eric Clapton’s reaction to being told that his guitar tone sucks.
The last section of the book regards Templeman’s work on the ‘Wayne’s World’ soundtrack and then losing his job at Warners, leading to depression and alcoholism.
It’s one of those rare music books that takes you right into the process of trying to get quality, commercial performances from some of the biggest stars in the music business, and it’s full of good advice about producing/arranging and interesting musical/technical observations.
Sadly though, its message may fall on deaf ears these days when Pro Tools and bedroom recordings are all the rage, musicianship less so, but still it’s a fun, informative look at the peak of the studio scene. Highly recommended.
It’s always a nice surprise when a classic 1980s track suddenly appears on streaming services out of the blue.

So it’s official: old music is 
Say ‘fusion’ to most music fans and it’s the classic early-‘70s jazz/rock of Miles or The Mahavishnu Orchestra that would probably come to mind. 
The critical consensus: 1986 was the worst music year of the decade, perhaps of any decade. But is that true?
They are of course the pop/jazz masters whose harmonic and lyrical sophistication have had the critics purring since 1972.
Most music fans of a certain age probably had their favourite ‘Walkman albums’, those cassettes that worked perfectly on headphones, revealing intricacies (weird panning effects, funky little motifs, stereo drum kits) rarely noticed when played on normal speakers.