Music

It’s a lecture/demonstration I give my songwriting classes from time to time: How Good Does your Demo Need To Be? The answer for the new millenium, as for past decades-good enough to make someone preoccupied and wired, someone like me, stop what we’re doing, ignore the phone, and become totally absorbed in your music, moved by what we’re hearing.

For me, great, career-building demos have come along so seldom that I tend to remember when and where I’ve heard them. For instance once in the 80s a nondescript gray cassette with no case showed up on my desk at Sound Column. I had no idea who had put it there.  The label said in very small, handwritten letters, “Brett Raymond,” followed by a phone number that wasn’t local. I didn’t recognize the name, so I didn’t rush to put it on.

A week later the gray cassette was still on my desk and in the way. I was tempted to toss it, but thought again, leaned over toward the audio rack, dropped the cassette into a deck, and sat back. The music snapped me to full attention. Rhythmically hip, richly melodic, and well-produced, this music was in a style different from what any of us were writing at Sound Column.

Within an hour I’d dialed the number on the cassette, met Brett on the phone, and set an appointment. My mind was already scrolling through projects that Brett could help us work on.

Years later, in the late 90s, Brett sat down as a guest artist to deliver his set in the Madsen Recital Hall at BYU for an invitational songwriters’ night. He played the first intro and stopped cold. “It just occurred to me,” he says into the mic, “that the first person who ever took a chance on me and actually paid me to write music is here tonight. It was Ron Simpson, tonight’s host…” And after that kind acknowledgment, he resumed the song.

Well, Brett, it was all about that little gray demo. You know, no one at Sound Column ever admitted placing it on my desk. Did you sneak into my office and stick it there yourself?

Fast forward to 2002, I’m hearing demos that could be better produced from some of my songwriting students. It’s time for my little talk. “So how good should your demo be,” I start out, like so many times before. And we discuss it.

“Last night,” I continue, “I was going through some of the demos I’ve kept on file through the years, and tossing ones that are dated now. One of them stopped me in my tracks. Even though it’s pretty clearly an 80s ballad, or early 90s, I loved it, and played it twice. The melody and the hook stayed with me all night long. I brought it to play for you. Listen to the honest vocal and the spaciousness of the mix, even though it’s just a demo.” I put it on and turned it up. Entitled Someone There, I got lost in it all over again, even though it was rather clearly dressed in the dated musical clothes of the decade in which it had been written.

“Who was the writer?” asks a girl in the second row.

“I’m sorry, didn’t I tell you? It’s Brett Raymond, a name you probably know from today’s LDS pop scene. But behind the scenes, he has a second career as a media composer.”      

In the back of the room BYU’s star jazz saxophonist Dave Halliday raises his hand. “I sometimes get session calls at LA East in Salt Lake, and I  just played on a Brett Raymond song demo last week. Would you like me to bring it so the class could hear what kind of stuff he’s writing today?” We agree for Dave to take a few minutes next class.

Thinking about Brett Raymond and the musical dreams he’s chased, some of them realized, and some still unfulfilled, I remember reading in the biography of the venerable and beloved Church leader, Hugh B. Brown, that the one thing he wanted most in life was to be in on one amazing and lucrative business deal. And that was the one thing that didn’t ever seem to materialize for him, though he came close on several occasions.

Cover of the Japanese single, “Only Love.”

Likewise for Brett, a record deal with a major national or world label has been his passion, his dream: a situation where he’d have major promotion centered around his songs and his voice. And he’s come so close, so many times.  

One of the best offers came from Japan, and Brett even moved his family there for a time. He was signed to Sixty Records in Tokyo, an imprint of the Phillips Group, a world-sized audio and electronic giant, headquartered in Holland. At one point they sent Brett to Hollywood to do an album of his music with veteran hit producer Jay Gruska at the helm and members of TOTO playing and singing backup. Only Love was the resulting album, and we-all his friends in the local music business-thought it was great, strong enough to succeed with the right promotional effort behind it. A single was released with the album.

Brett later tried moving to LA, as would fellow Utah music makers Kenneth Cope and Randy Kartchner. And although some good things seemed to be developing, in the end he and his family moved back to Utah, where he’s been successful as a media composer working on national projects and also a prominent LDS singer/songwriter signed to Deseret Book (A Case of Pop, Primarily for Grownups, etc.).

The last time Brett worked on a project of mine was 1991. I was producing a Deseret Book album for songwriter Jeff Goodrich entitled A Grove of My Own, which is still in print and available on the Deseret Book website. I thought the song, Moroni’s Lament, had the potential to be a standout in this group of songs. I suggested to Jeff and Joan Goodrich that Brett Raymond might be the orchestrator/vocalist who would give it a magic touch. And sure enough, while Brett’s arrangement pushed the envelope further than any of the other Grove of my Own songs would, it was Moroni’s Lament that had the strongest and longest presence on LDS radio.

*   *   *

“So, once again,” I recap for the class, “How good does your demo have to be?” The songwriters nod, serious looks on their faces. I think they’re getting it. “Good enough to have made you call Brett Raymond in the first place,” says one. “Good enough for him to get signed to the Japanese label,” says another. “Good enough to make Jay Gruska and the Toto guys want to work with him,” offers a third.

And, yes, I feel lucky to have worked beside Brett Raymond in the LDS music scene. He’s a class act, a delightful guy to work with, and a huge talent.