From ‘Memories of John Lennon’, edited by Yoko Ono.

Contribution by Garland Jeffreys

I was in and out of the Record Plant in the early 1970s. I had found a home with a bunch of great people commandeered by one of the best recording engineers of all time, Roy Cicala. Roy was unique in every way, in his recording techniques and his terrific sense of humor. He guided me, along with a brilliant team of musicians, through my first solo album, recorded in studio B: Dr. John, Bernard Purdie, Paul Griffin, Chuck Rainey, Winston Grennan, David Bromberg and the Persuasions. Studio B is where I met John Lennon. I entered the room and sat down at the console, which I’d become very familiar with. Roy introduced me, and John was immediately a quipster. No aloofness, no cool, no Beatle-ness – pretty much a regular guy. Yoko was there as well, and she was friendly and welcoming. John was enthusiastic, not quiet or brooding. Any time I was in a recording studio I always felt it was my playground even though the clock was ticking away the dollars, and John had the same schoolyard attitude. He was playful and very appealing.

Around this time, I was thinking about recording “Help”. I think it was a few days later that I ran into John on the tenth floor and mentioned that “Help” was a favorite of mine. Wouldn’t you know it, like any songwriter, the mere mention that you might want to record one of their songs brought a package with the lead sheet to my small studio apartment in Gramercy Park. John had sent it off to me. I won't act cool about this; I was thrilled that he had it sent over.

We ran into each other a few more times, always at the Record Plant. I knew Roy was having the time of his life working with John, and I had enough sense to keep my distance and stay busy with my own work while I was there. The excitement of his being around and accessible was really fun. A few hellos and a couple of waves were enough for me. Some time had passed, and I was in Paris working on a few songs for a new recording. I was with my dear friend Antoine de Caunes, and after a night out carousing, we had just gotten to sleep at around eight in the morning when the telephone rang. It was the president of the Beatles fan club of France with the horrible news. John's sudden death was a shocker and hearing the news stunned me. An end to someone I looked forward to seeing again, to getting to know maybe, to discovering what he was up to through his music. An end to his great creative juice.

I was never really a great Beatles fan when the early craze hit. Those Beatle melodies and lyrics were too teenybopper for me, as I mistakenly thought back then. I was in love with Motown, Bob Dylan, Ray Charles and then the Rolling Stones. John Lennon fit right in with this group. His point of view cut right through. He spoke to me, and I believed him. He had an edge, which I was interested in. He was serious, and he reminded me of Dylan. And he made me laugh. I never did record "Help," but I'm thinking about it again.

There are so many great songs and performances. Two of my favorites are "Instant Karma" and "Come Together." The albums that I liked the most, and that still inspire are Imagine and John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band. Going back, it's A Hard Day’s Night and the White Album. The solo recordings, the songs, the sound, the musicians and the production and the flux fiddlers and his passionate renditions. The venom, the gentleness, his vulnerability and honesty on all his songs has given me license. We are always looking for a few clues, some direction, a bit of information, a little style, some guidance, permission if you will, to take a few chances. It takes some courage and I'm always so excited when it's handed down to me. In 1980 I wrote "Jump Jump," and dedicated this song to John on my Escape Artist album in 1981.

JUMP JUMP

Let's make the great escape
All due respect to art for art sake
Jump Jump
We're gonna have some fun
For you and me and everyone

Jump Jump
To the rock and roll Rimbauds
Jump Jump
To the poets and verse
Jump Jump
To the Venus de Milo
Jump Jump
To the ones who came first

From the liner notes by Joe Camilleri for the compilation album, "Wild in the Streets (Best of 1977-1983)" released on Raven Records 2002 (www.ravenrecords.com.au):

MY FIRST GARLAND JEFFREYS' RECORD was American Boy & Girl; it came at me with all cylinders firing.  Matador, Ship of Fools just floored me, I must have played that disc a thousand times.  I recently rediscovered Matador for The Revelators second CD.

Wasn't long before I came across the outstanding Ghost Writer and One-Eyed Jack albums.  I May Not Be Your Kind, Wild in the Streets, New York Skyline and many more of his songs I got to know inside out and was driving most of my friends crazy or insane:  'Man, dig this', 'Dig that', 'What a singer!'

GARLAND music was the tonic I needed.  I loved everything about it:  the mix of rock, reggae, jazz and Spanish, his voice coming through my jukebox was the sweetest silkiest sound.  Wonderful melodies with the best players around - Steve Gadd, Michael and Randy Brecker, and stacks more who brought the soul and rhythm of the city - it call came alive in GARLAND songs.

At the time I was in a band called Jo Jo Zep and the Falcons doing what can only be described as pop reggae with the sweat of R&B.  Soon as I heard GARLAND music I knew I was always going to be attracted to it.  Looking back now I can honestly say his music gave me the inspiration you sometimes need to keep pushing on.

In my mind GARLAND JEFFREYS is one of the best singers on this planet.

---Joe Camilleri - The Black Sorrows

Excerpt from Liner Notes for the album Escape Artist

Contribution to the Liner Notes for the 2006 reissue of Garland Jeffreys, self-titled solo debut album

Garland Jeffreys, my very first solo recording, marked a new stage in my early music career. I'd prepared for this album by performing in the many small clubs, church basements, synagogues, homeless shelters, sleeper's conventions, hootenannies, village scenes, as well as the various apartments I lived or often crashed in during those early days.

Signed to Atlantic Records, I had the great opportunity to meet and play with some very special musicians. That I was somewhat nervous in starting the sessions was an understatement. Meeting the great keyboardist and arranger" Paul Griffin, at that time was a godsend. Paul, as he did with so many musicians back then, befriended me and held my hand through the process. I will never forget my friend, and to him and Winston Grennan, I dedicate this album.

---Garland Jeffreys

Contribution to Liner Notes for John Cale's album Vintage Violence (1970)

John Cale, Welshman of sorts
Person of course
Not to be confused with
Velvet or lace or the keeper's face
A past as a satyr
Disguised as the mad hatter
Who would believe him now?

---Garland Jeffreys

IF WE ARE ALL UNDENIABLY SHAPED BY OUR ENVIRONMENTS, THEN HERE IS MINE.

by Garland Jeffreys (from his MySpace Profile at http://www.myspace.com/garlandjeffreys)

Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, in the Fifties and Sixties, the embodiment of the urban melting pot. I surely was melted, a mix of black, white, Puerto Rican with a faint trace of Cherokee. My grandfather was head waiter at Lundy’s, the world-famous Brooklyn seafood restaurant. Those were the days when it was honorable for a black man to be a waiter, an elevator operator, a soldier or a porter, like my father was at one time. I used to ride along with him on the Pennsylvania Railroad, the New York to DC line, and there was nothing more exciting than sleeping in the double deckers and watching the towns roll by. My mother had me when she was sixteen and she named me after seeing the word on a fancy box of cards. She was just a kid, and music was the soundtrack of her life, just like rap is today–only her music was Duke Ellington, Dinah Washington, Count Basie, Frank Sinatra and even Benny Goodman. I soaked it up. It was background to the forty eight hour card games that floated from one apartment to another, when they would put little Garland to sleep in the bottom dresser drawer. The adults were cool. They talked jive. Daddy-o and doojie, hep and hipster and, "Man, I was with that cat when he flipped out." There were characters all around…Davey Nichols, Stetson, Spook, Sister, Shorty Bolden…people I knew and heard about who hinted at dangerous things. In truth, I didn’t need to look far for influences, not when my uncle was living downstairs and up to no good. To balance that out, there were families like the Haynes, a few blocks over, who came from the West Indies. They built houses, bought real estate, and lived a clean, sober life. Mr. Haynes lived to be one hundred, with eight of his children gathered around him on his birthday. Most of the kids in my public school were Jewish or Italian. Starting in kindergarten, I used to have crushes on the white girls. Once I got called into the principal’s office for slipping one a love note. They called my father in and he defended me. "From this note, it seems to me Garland likes this girl. I don’t see anything wrong here. My father was raised an orphan in Harlem. Later in life he told me how at four years old he used to scamper across rooftops early in the morning, then drop down to steal milk from the stoops. I never went hungry. But when I was little I would cut across the yard to Sweetie Pie, the neighbor lady’s house and ring the bell. She would call me Frankie Boy and give me pickles and a biscuit. Today my six year old daughter walks down the street and rings the doorbell to get a cookie from our neighbor. I’m sure I never told her the story about Frankie Boy.
Hard wired…

- Garland Jeffreys