Yesterday’s Los Angeles Times profile of Rick Rubin covered a lot of bearded-one basics–he meditates, he hangs out near the shore, he meditates–while throwing out this semi-tantalizing tidbit:
Asked about disappointments in the studio, he mentions a veteran British superstar whose band continues to fill stadiums around the world. Rubin knew the Englishman was used to calling the shots, and he only agreed to produce the solo album after being assured that the artist would keep writing until he and Rubin agreed they had enough good songs for an album.
Early in the process, however, the singer played a song for Rubin and waited for a reaction. Rubin said he liked it, but thought the rocker could do better. “Well, his face fell,” Rubin recalls. “It was probably the first time someone criticized his work in 30 years. I could tell at that point it was going to be an ego-driven project, not a music-driven project.”
You can eliminate Ray Stevens from the list of suspects, since he grew up in Georgia. A thorough glance-over at Rubin’s discography, however, indicates that a certain wandering spirit was the one getting all frowny–though we’re pretty sure that particular suspect’s face hasn’t actually changed expressions since 1972.
A balance of rattle and om [LATimes.com]