He's no satanic majesty, but Chuck Leavell is more welcome on a Rolling Stones stage than a lot of people you could think of. Mick and Keith are especially fond of this native Alabamian's light-fingered boogie woogie piano work, and since 1982 Chuck Leavell has been the Stones' key player, on every record and every tour. You saw the Steel Wheels extravaganza? You saw Chuck Leavell. Voodoo Lounge? Chuck again. Stripped? Well, you get the point.
He's a steady rolling man. In the past couple of years, Chuck Leavell has become one of the most in-demand session and road musicians for British rock 'n' roll artists; that's him backing Eric Clapton on much of 24 Nights and all ofUnplugged, and on George Harrison Live in JapanWith Eric Clapton and Band. In a perfect world, there would be a Plastic Ono Band today, and chances are quite good Chuck Leavell would be the pianist.
And only the most chemically-impaired will have trouble placing Chuck Leavell squarely on the Allman Brothers Band's piano bench, where he sat from the years 1972 to '76, when Gregg and Dickey were making some of their best post-Duane music. Chuck Leavell's ivories give "Ramblin' Man," "Jessica" and the classic Brothers and Sisters album a lot of their distinctive Southern campfire revival-tent feeling.
For the next five years, Leavell fronted his own band, the boogie/jazz/jam combo Sea Level (that's C. Leavell, you dig?) The seven-piece band toured ceacelessly, made a half dozen albums, and never scored a hit. Still, it had a rabid fan base. Leavell says it was a learning experience.
A profoundly serene man, the 47-year-old Leavell lives on 1,700 acres of piney woods just outside Macon, Ga., where Capricorn Records, his home base for so many years, used to have its studios and business offices. He and his wife Rose Lane Leavell call their property Charlane Plantation, and it's one of the area's top producers of pulpwood timber. It's also got a hunting preserve, nature trails and an environmental education center.
Leavell is well and truly into trees—he's a spokesman for the Georgia Forestry Association, he gives tree talks at local schools, and he and Rose Lane are involved in wildlife and ecosystem management. Their 14-year-old daughter, Ashley, lives with them at Charlane.
Still, he's a working musician. In the last year, since he got home from the 14-month global Voodoo Lounge tour, Leavell has recorded with a number of artists including Iris DeMent, Richie Sambora and Johnny Jenkins. He cut a tune for Steinway to Heaven, a compilation of classical pieces done by rock 'n' roll piano players, and made A Homemade Christmas from Charlane Plantation, limited to 1,500 copies for family, friends and folks around Macon and Atlanta.
Born in Tuscaloosa, Leavell learned piano at his mother's feet. He played tuba in his junior high school band, but to this day doesn't read music.
Like everyone else, Leavell has been reading about the Rolling Stones' current session work with Don Was, Babyface and the Dust Brothers. So far, the phone call hasn't come—but that doesn't phase him in the slightest. There's work to be done, down on the farm.
Goldmine: Could you ever go back to a full time musician life? Leave the trees and hit the road?
Chuck Leavell: It's hard for me to conceive of that, because it is such a part of my life now that I feel that we're integral. But the answer is: I'm prepared for come what may, you know? I love music, and if an opportunity came up that would interest me enough to go somewhere else and pursue it, sure. I'd be willing to do that.
There's a multitude of ways to make those things happen. I'm not above moving my family to somewhere that would mean a great experience for me musically. This is home and will always be home; it's not going away. But the world is out there, and I'm still willing to explore it.
That Voodoo Lounge tour was a long time to be away from home.
It was a long time, but the Rolling Stones are a unique band. They require that type of commitment. It's not the kind of band that goes out, works two weeks and comes home for two weeks. It just doesn't work that way. They put a theme, a concept together and then they go out and promote it. They tour it. And it lasts for two years, or whatever. And that's the way it needs to be marketed in this day and time, in the '90s.
It seems to be the best way to operate a situation like that. Mick Jagger's well aware of it, and the people he surrounds himself with are well aware of it. And they're very clever, very intelligent, and they play their cards very carefully. And usually, the results are very strong.
Yes, but is it rock 'n' roll?
Of course it's rock 'n' roll! Could you deny that? My God, if you look up rock 'n' roll in the dictionary, there's a picture of the Rolling Stones, are you kidding?
Yes, it is definitive rock 'n' roll. The reason it's done like this is basically because the musicians have finally figured out how to not get burned by the business people. It's a learning process that many musicians or artists go through; once you reach that point of understanding how to work it to your best advantage, then there's certainly nothing wrong with proceeding in that fashion.
Hey, the music is the music, regardless of who markets it. The Rolling Stones made their mistakes, and Allen Klein owns their early catalogue. They have limited rights to it, and some of it is out of their power to control. And they learned from their mistakes.
How did you come to be in the Stones' orbit?
I met the Stones through Bill Graham. He was Tour Director in 1981, and they wanted to try some new people. He remembered me from the Allman Brothers and suggested me. Sea Level was in a kind of limbo at the time.
I got a call from Alex Hodges, who had gone looking for me. And I thought it just didn't make sense. I don't know why, it just didn't strike me as being real. So after 36 hours of this I thought 'Look, you fool, at least follow up, get the phone number and see what's happening.' And I did that. I got a secretarial person on the phone, and I said 'I'm Chuck Leavell, and I'm calling because I understand the Rolling Stones may be trying to find me, and if they are, here's my number.'
And that night, very quickly, Ian Stewart called me back. And he said 'Yes, we are.' I think this was a Wednesday or a Thursday, and I said 'I have a gig this weekend in Macon.' He said (dry English accent) 'We'd really like to have you there tomorrow.' So what could I say? I called the club and told them the situation, and they said look, go do it. Don't worry about it; we'll do something else.
It's a long story, but basically I was supposed to be there for a day, and they kept me for 3 or 4 days. I think they kind of agonized over what do do in '81, but eventually they decided to take Ian MacLagan, who had done the tour before. Stu I think really wanted me, and we eventually became very good friends.
When the band played Atlanta in '81, they chose to play the Fox Theatre. Stu called me up and said 'We're doing a special gig—would you like to come up and play with the band?' And I did. It was silly and interesting and funny and fun. And I became friends with Ian.
Then there was a break around Christmastime, and a European tour to be done in '82. Well, I got the call to do the European tour.
What's it like playing with the Rolling Stones?
Well, it ain't a bad gig. It's everything you can imagine it would be and more. To me, the job is—well, I won't say it's a job—I have a duty with this band and I want to contribute with it. So while it's all very nice and it's the Rolling Stones, and that means something to a lot of people, obviously, in reality it is a gig. And there's a focus and you get in there and you do what you think you do best, to contribute to this band or any band.
Since I enjoy what I do, and enjoy doing it with them or with whomever I'm so flattered and honored to play with, there is a focus, and that's really what I think about.
Your musical imput, I've heard, is very valuable to them. Are you not allowed to dramatically screw around with arrangements?
I think that's true of any particular entity to a degree. Some musical artists are more willing to adapt, or change, or do radical things. Like, for instance, what we did with 'Layla,' with Eric Clapton. He wanted to take a 180 degree approach on it, and it worked. But you'd never hear the Stones doing a reggae version of 'Satisfaction' or something, I'll tell you that.
Why? Is it sancrosact?
It's just that they don't want to do that. They don't think that's cool. That's not their way. There are some things that have evolved from the records live through the 15 years that I've worked with the band. A lot of songs have taken slow changes through the years.
For example?
Oh, 'Street Fighting Man' is quite different from the record. 'Satisfaction' with the horns is another example. And a ballad perhaps: 'Angie,' the instrumentation is quite different. We did have a synthesizer doing some string bits. They're different, but not radically. That's not the Rolling Stones.
Are you ever given free reign?
I would like to think that anyone that hires me, hires me because I do what I do, and they want me to do that for their record, for their tour. And I would like to think that I'm malleable: If a certain song needs to be a certain way in order for that artist to be comfortable, I'm perfectly willing to do that. And stay in bounds—if an artist wants me to venture out of bounds, as long as I feel comfortable I'll speak up and contribute.
The role varies from band to band and artist to artist. With the Stones, it's evolution—I started 15 years ago as second keyboardist to Ian Stewart. We shared the duties; Stu liked to play the rock 'n' roll stuff: (dry English accent again) 'I don't like ballads. They're boring.' Stu and I were very close. I learned a lot from Stu. Eventually, when he passed away I think the band looked to me to slide a little bit into those shoes. They're very heavy shoes, and I'm sure I could never fill them, but they looked to me as someone who understood Stu and understood the way he played, and could cover that territory. And I went into a slightly different role.
And then it also evolved, sometimes, into being someone who keeps track of the arrangements, will work with the horns and with the vocals, and do whatever it takes to make the big picture. So in that respect yeah, I'm given a lot of reign and freedom.
But are there certain lines you don't cross?
I'm not going to strap on a portable keyboard—not that I would want to, anyway—and run up there and make faces at Keith Richards.
But they sometimes don't remember the words to their own songs. Being a fan a long time before I was an employee, I know those songs pretty well. They sometimes look to me for those things.
How did these last two Stones tours differ?
This was rawer, tougher, dirtier and I think more authentic Rolling Stones on Voodoo. Steel Wheels was a great tour, it was fantastic, but it was a more production-level, slicker presentation.
That was Bill Wyman's last time out with the Stones. Could you tell he was pulling away?
There was never any tension on a personal level with Bill Wyman. Bill just simply had had enough. He'd done it for as many years and as long as he cared to do it, and he wanted a change of lifestyle. I understand that completely—I have a different liferstyle when I come home.
Also, he had developed a fear of flying—he didn't care to fly anymore, and obviously that wasn't gonna work. He'd tried to do it once or twice before, to convince them that they could do it without him, and they kept negotiating a way around it. But this last time, his mind was made up. It wasn't a personal feeling between any parties, it was simply a decision Bill made.
OK, we all know Mick Jagger is a very shrewd marketeer. But musically, is he right there, too?
Oh, no, he's very hands-on. That's one of the things I admire about him. He has quite a good memory for certain things, in terms of something the band might have done years ago. It might pop into mind and be something interesting and useful. He's very hands-on in every aspect of the production and the music.
But Keith, equally so. It is truly an equal partnership with Keith and Mick. Most great partnerships that I've ever been involved with, when there's two people that are running things, it's been kind of an opposites-atttract thing. The yin and the yang, and somehow that's what makes it interesting and makes it work. And makes it creative.
I've seen that in everybody from Gregg and Dickey….Kim Wilson and Jimmie Vaughan of the Fabulous Thunderbirds … and look at groups that I've had nothing to do with, Lennon and McCartney. Any great partnership like Mick and Keith have, you need to understand that they need each other. And the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
How about the work you've done with Eric Clapton?
I think the first time we met was in 1982, when I was touring with the Stones in Europe. We wound up over at Eric's flat, he had separated from Patti at the time—Keith, Ronnie and myself and a few others were there just enjoying the evening. It was a very late night, staying up talking, singing and playing. It was a memorable, fun night.
And I didn't see him again until he was working with Dave Edmunds, playing with his band at Nassau Coliseum. And I guess on the Steel Wheels tour, when he sat in, and they put him onstage right next to me, which was very good for me.
And later, he remembered me when he needed somebody.
After the 24 Nights shows at the Royal Albert Hall, you worked in Clapton's band on the George Harrison tour.
He had the tragic loss of his son, and he was planning on taking a year off—I think partially due to the fact that he didn't want to sit around and think about things too much, he decided to work. He had had this encounter with George and said 'Well, why don't we do this: You need to go out and play, and I'll provide the band.' And they agreed to do it.
Three-quarters of the way through the tour in Japan with George, (keyboardist) Greg Phillinganes resigned. He said to Eric, 'After this tour, I'm going to go on and do different things.'
We fans got the impression that George was more or less talked into that tour. Did you find him to be musically involved?
Yeah, but he was like a kid having a good time. He hadn't done it in a long time, and he was excited, and bubbly, and there were times we had to push him back into focus.
But he was so sweet, and I just can't tell you what a gentleman and a wonderful man he was to work with. Some artists are aloof, and George would call us after a gig and say 'I'll come and hang out.' He'd sit around and talk, just like a human being. It was wonderful and refreshing to work with someone like that.
I won't tell you why, but there was a strain between George and Eric that had to do with Eric's management. And so, in some ways it was a difficult thing on a personal level, because there was definitely a run between them at the time because of that situation.
But that did not interfere with the music. It made us awkward sometimes for obvious reasons, but the music did not suffer. I think it was a great tour. Was it perfect? Did we play every night brilliantly? No, there were nights that were better than others.
We begged George to carry it on to the States, and he did consider it, but he obviously chose not to. I think it was the sort of thing where if we'd had some time off to think about the tour, the arrangements, and to freshen up, come back and do another rehearsal, and prepare for the States, it would've been absolutely brilliant.
Do you think the disaster of his American tour in the '70s was on his mind?
Sure it was. And the story is true about when he went out after some concert somewhere, and looked at all the trash and bottles and garbage that human beings leave behind, and it distressed him. I think he looked at it and said 'Geez, this is what I'm doing with my life. This is the effect I'm having on people.'
He looks at things, sometimes, from a puritan standpoint. I think he feels that perhaps that aspect of touring is not good.
However, I think also he's a realist, and if a number of things had been different—and I could spend hours explaining this—had he been a little bit more comfortable with the situation, I think he would have come to the States. And it could have been great.
After Clapton's Unplugged album, was there an Unplugged tour?
Well, the true Unplugged was one show, and the subsequent tour afterwards had a segment that was designed around it. We did an Unplugged tour of Europe and America, and personally I think it was one of the best tours I've ever done. I was honored to be on that stage with those musicians—Steve Ferrone, Nathan East and Ray Cooper. And Eric, my God.
I think what I brought to the band, if I may say, was to kind of level it out. Because those guys are so strong and so schooled and so proficient on their instruments; I mean, they could play rings around me, but I think I balanced it by bringing a certain raw, tougher and rougher approach. And to my mind, that blend was brilliant.
So what's with all these English guys hiring this piano player from Alabama?
They do have an interest in things Southern. There's a number of reasons—the obvious is that Delta blues came from here. That's the real connector, the real tie-in.
By virtue of the fact that I grew up there, and you wake up as a child on Sunday morning and hear the gospel music radio station, and the R 'n' B station…that's what I listened to a lot. I was playing black music when I was 12 and 13 years old. And when I was 15, working with a band from a black college there, a Temptations kind of group called the Jades.
So you get it just by absorption, it's there. It wasn't really until I got a little older that I understood the real blues aspect, Mississippi Fred McDowell and all that.
You played tuba, briefly, in the junior high band. How did you come to make music your life's work?
There was a point when I had made up my mind that I wanted to be a musician. It was basically after hearing a Ray Charles concert in Tuscaloosa. And I started working towards that goal.
It was clear to me that if I wanted to stay in the South, there was Muscle Shoals, there was Nashville, and they were locked in by other musicians. I could start to get sessions after maybe two, three years. Macon was very new. I checked it out, and it had more of a multi-faceted thing. The Allman Brothers had just done a record, and they were doing very well live. There was a booking agent, management and a studio. It all seemed very attractive and very new, and not as established as Muscle Shoals and Nashville. I smelled opportunity. I was 16 or 17.
Paul Hornsby was my friend. I had played in a band with him in Alabama, and he had moved to Macon to work as a studio musician with Capricorn. He said 'You know, if you come over here, there's a lot of chances, and I think I could probably get you in a band.'
And he did. It was called Sundown, and we made a record. It wasn't worth a shit, but it was a start, and it was all I needed. It was on Ampex Records. I think they had a total of three releases, and ours was one of them.
And the Allman Brothers?
I worked for years with Alex Taylor and Dr. John, playing on sessions for (producer) Johnny Sandlin. And we opened up for them a lot. I used to insist on an acoustic piano for opening for Alex or Dr. John or whatever. We would open, then they would pull the piano backstage, and the Allman Brothers would set up and do the main show. I would hang out, and just sit back there where that piano was and play along with the band. I was having fun, and I kind of learned some shit. I didn't do it all the time, just sometimes.
I started with what was supposed to be a Gregg Allman solo album, and it turned into Brothers and Sisters. After about two weeks of playing with the guys at the studio, they called me into the office and said 'Would you like to join our band?' After I picked myself up off the floor from falling backwards … I was excited and flattered. And 19.
Are you still in touch with them? Have you done any of the reunion projects?
I haven't talked to them in ages. But as far as I know, we're on good terms. I saw Dickey maybe four years ago, and I telegrammed them a congratulations on the 'Jessica' Grammy.
Warren Haynes and I are very good friends. I talk to Warren a lot. Of course, you might see that he's no longer with the Allman Brothers.
The Stones are between projects now, and you've been spending time on Charlane Plantation. What else are you up to?
I've been working with Greg Jones, who owns Phoenix Sound Studios. Greg has basically bought the Capricorn Recording Studios on Broadway in Macon. And included with his purchase was a vault that has some interesting archival recordings in it. Some Allman Brothers things, some Marshall Tucker things, some Sea Level things … tons of stuff. Some of the recordings are Capricorn artists, some aren't, and some are unsigned artists.
At any rate, he's in the process of starting a record label called White Clay Records. He's asked me to compile at least one and possibly more releases as executive producer. Basically, it will be up to me to release a rock compilation that might consist of early Southern rock or Southern-influenced artists. My intention is to do that, and categorize out what's in the vault. There's a ton of R 'n' B stuff.
My thoughts are basically this: There's at least one, if not two, good rock compilations. Either some previously released or some never before released material. And an R 'n' B project to be done, which I am really looking forward to, more than the rock project. People like Arthur Conley, Eddie Floyd, Eddie Hinton, a number of artists. And possibly an instrumental release of things of an R 'n'B and jazz nature: Tim Weisberg on to Sea Level, possibly the Allmans, focusing on instrumental Southern music.
Can this stuff be issued—isn't there some contractual red tape?
He has a pending agreement with Polygram, which owns some of the vault issues. And some, he's free to negotiate with the artists. Some are in the process of being negotiated. It's a multitude of possibilities.