THE JIM CZAK STORY.
By Christian Josi
So my little story idea on Medium is, I guess, off to a popular start. Thank you. I’m going to share stories here about people you know and people you might not know. I want to be sure to introduce you to some of the behind the scenes people who brought your favorite things to life without breathing a word about it.
This one is about one of those people. The late, great, music Producer and Engineer Jim Czak.
How on earth do I describe Jim Czak? More importantly, how do I write this column without melting down? Let me try my best:
I was a baby. Jim ran a famous studio called NOLA for many years on, I think West 57th street, in New York City. It was a penthouse studio, so an artist like me with his or her posse could work privately whilst catching some fresh air or a smoke on the roof.
I was brought to New York City from California by Mel Torme’s pianist and Musical Director John Colianni. The fact that I came to town with the Torme imprimatur that Johnny provided was a big deal. John and I didn’t end up going very far musically, and he has said some very bad things about me over the years, but it is what it is. I owe him an inexplicable debt of gratitude, no matter how nasty he gets.
So, yeah, it didnt really work out with John and me after a great start, but thanks to him I met incredible musicians: The late Tony Monte toured the world with me as my pianist and musical director. Tony was fiercely protective of me onstage and off, like a true musical director should and must be. He dragged me out of musical and personal situations that should and will go forever unmentioned. Thank God. Tony was my Jilly. Except he played a mean piano in addition to being perfectly capable of breaking your face if you dared get up in mine. I miss Tony like I miss Jim. I am lost without them to this day.
So with Tony’s help, I enlisted people like Bucky Pizzarellli, Joe Coccuzzo, Jerry Bruno and the young but killer Harry Allen to my personal musical world. We worked together at NOLA and created music which, I must say, is pretty damn amazing to this day.
Back to Jim.
My best memory of gentleman Jim Czak, and the one that is so very illustrative of his character is this one: NOLA Studios was famous for doing all of the Sesame Street music and necessary voice overs. One morning, with my then four year old daughter Hannah in tow, I showed up a bit early for a recording session. We walked into the booth whilst the entire Sesame Street cast at the time — including the enchanting Annette Calud and the superstar of the day Kevin Clash (a wonderful human being BTW) who played (and I think created) Elmo for years were hard at work doing the audio for the show.
The moment Jim saw Hannah, he stopped all work with a strange wave of his hands, in some sort of special signal that all of the cast members knew (which basically meant KIDS IN ROOM. DUCK!). And they hit the floor. He didn’t want to break the spell for Hannah. The spell which, for better or whatever, was such an important part of her childhood.
Of course he was contractually bound to do so. But the fact that he did so instantly and passionately, as a music professional who had to get that shit done, illustrates his incredible character.
After all of that I went off to europe, made records, toured, and quit the business. That story is an entirely other column. But in 2014 I was offered the deal of a lifetime by Bill Pascoe and Jeff Davis’s Dulcetone Recordings: I could make the record of my dreams and all I had to do was show up. Jim Czak Produced. Freddy Cole, brother of Nat, and Antonia Bennett, daughter of Tony sang duets with me whilst my heroes like Mike Renzi, Bucky Pizzarelli, Harry Allen and Alan Vache looked and played on to custom-written charts from the likes of Marion Evans. WOW. We worked at the famous Power Station / Avatar Studios in New York City. In the big room where many of my musical heroes have worked. It was very difficult but it turned out very beautiful. Christopher Makos, the legendary photographer was there with his crew documenting the whole thing as Art Director. Lenny Triola and of course Tino Passante were in the room. Alicia Keys was doing something next door and I swore she was hot for me (she wasn’t).
It was wild to say the least. The album was called #LEGENDS. You can find it on iTunes, Spotify, Amazon, whatever. I didn’t write this column to pimp it, thought it’s beginning to sound like it, isn’t it?
Following the last day of recording, and what turned out to be the last time I would see him, Jim was driving me to La Guardia airport. We stopped at his favorite Long Island City Italian joint, which delighted me, and Jim told me this, the greatest thing a producer who has seen everything can possibly say to an artist:
He said, taking my hand:
“20 years of work, I’ve watched you every day. You’ve learned to become a real singer. An exception. I’m very proud of you and very proud of this record. You’ve lived, you’ve learned and you know deep personal pain. The kind of pain that turns singers into artists. This work we have made together is very special. Treat it that way.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I know you don’t like this, but you, with the help of Bill, Jeff, Freddy, Mikey, Antonia, Harry and everyone else have created something that truly matters. Do not underestimate what this record means. For all of you.”
We finished dinner and he dropped me at the airport. It was the last time I saw him.
RIP, Jimmy. We’ll eat. Just as soon as I can dry my face.
