Artists trust Cheryl Pawelski. When she began working with Robbie Robertson on the Band’s catalog, she deleted their Live at Watkins Glen release. Why? Because the recording cluttered the group’s legacy: Very little was recorded at Watkins Glen and part of it isn’t even live; instead, some tracks were just doctored studio recordings. Earlier this year, Pawelski won a Grammy for working with Jeff Tweedy on the anniversary box set of Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. That’s two generations of music cred.
And it’s not just the artists. Estates of deceased performers also have faith in Pawelski, which can sometimes be a greater hurdle. From unissued Hank Williams radio dates to a Mister Rogers overview, she takes the same approach – keep the focus on the music. It’s Such a Good Feeling: The Best of Mister Rogers and Williams’ The Garden Spot Programs both earned Grammys. People notice the quality of Cheryl Pawelski’s work.
It’s no surprise, then, that when deciding to unearth and release demo recordings from the Stax label, Pawelski would do a thorough job. But even she had no idea that the project would consume 17 years of her life, becoming a lengthy “treasure hunt.” Her work has come to fruition with Written in Their Soul: The Stax Songwriter Demos, a seven-disc box containing 146 demo recordings, all but six of the tracks previously unreleased.
“Demo” is short for demonstration recording. A songwriter makes a recording of a freshly composed song to play for prospective artists, managers and producers. The writer is trying to sell the song, to get a signed artist to record and release it. Ideally, the record will be a hit, which is how the songwriter makes money. Demos are not recorded with their own release in mind, but they do hold their own fascinating aura.
Demo recordings became increasingly well known in the compact-disc age, with studios officially releasing demo versions of songs by artists like Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan. It can be interesting to hear early versions of numbers that each of these artists would themselves later record. But most of the songs on Written in Their Soul: The Stax Songwriter Demos are composed and performed by songwriters, not professional recording artists.
The demo recordings Pawelski found were barely known to exist, sometimes even forgotten by the people involved. More than 60 songs included in this set have never been heard before in any form because they never got past the demo stage. That is, no signed artist recorded them at the time, so these songs didn’t make the leap to a formal recording session. These “uncut songs” comprise the last three discs of the box. Many constitute unmined gold, for the riches found in these numbers are undeniable. Why were these songs never re-recorded for a formal release? Timing. Bad luck. Serendipity. Fate.
But we have them now, thanks to Cheryl Pawelski’s deep archeological digs. Most people who ponder things like audio tapes assume that outtakes, demos and all unreleased recordings are conveniently housed and labeled in a studio’s own vaults. Pawelski says that some of her finds for the Stax box did come from the label’s own holdings, but a huge number of the recordings originated with music publishers. Demos are made for publishers in order to create copyrights on the songs. They range in audio quality from impromptu performances made on low-fi boom boxes to professional studio recordings. Pawelski says one of her favorite aspects of the unpolished demos is to hear a new song “spilling out of a performer for the first time.”
Pawelski says she waded through 1,300 tapes of 90-to-120 minutes each. She figures it was more than 2,000 hours of focused listening. From this, she created a master list of 665 songs for consideration. The 146 songs that made it onto the completed Written in Their Soul box set are the most important and most interesting of her finds. Many well-known songs are heard in unfamiliar versions, sung here by the songwriter. Pawelski says, “If the songwriter is the performer, I think you get closer to the bone of the song.” True enough. Many of these numbers take on unexpected shades of emotion when sung by the composer. Pawelski wonders how songwriter Homer Banks, for one, did not become a huge recording star in his own right. His name almost becomes a touchstone during the course of this set.
In addition to the highly personal interpretations given by the songwriters to their work, the audio of this box is also remarkable. It is all the more noteworthy when learning of the wide variety of audio sources faced by Pawelski and engineer Mike Graves. When reading of the many forms of poor fidelity that Grammy-winning Graves had to repair, I was reminded of The Beatles at the BBC and George Martin’s lament that every surviving Beatles radio recording was flawed, but each had a different type of audio problem to resolve. I’m sure Graves can relate.
Artists and estates trust Cheryl Pawelski, yes. But equally important, audiences trust her. They have learned – through her archive work and through her own Omnivore Recordings record label – that she is a fan of the music. Maybe its biggest fan. Fortunately, she is a member of the audience who can channel her passion in a way that benefits all music lovers. In the case of Written in Their Soul: The Stax Songwriter Demos, Pawelski has spent 17 years of her life-saving great music from irretrievable oblivion. It was time well spent.
Earlier this year, The New Yorker published a profile on the creation of this box set and on Pawelski’s career. It provides context to both box and producer. One thing it doesn’t mention, however, is how generous Cheryl Pawelski is with her knowledge and her time. Years ago, learning that she was working on the Band’s archives, I contacted her with some strikingly obscure questions about the location and ownership of concert tapes from Bob Dylan and the Band’s time on the Asylum label. Pawelski was gracious and patient in her response. More than that, she too was interested in what had happened to those tapes – it was a brief exchange between two obsessives.
“A 7 CD box of Stax demos.” That summary reads like an exercise in minutia. Or maybe some sort of academic project. It is neither. As I began to play Written in Their Soul last night, I found myself stopped cold – over and over again. This trove has already become the soundtrack of my summer.
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