Drummer, record producer and spiritualist Narada Michael
Walden
Written by Rob
Bhatt
Inside his
"We rocked hard hard," Walden says. "I wonder if that noise is
an effect." He adjusts a few of the dials, but neither he nor one of his sound
assistants can stop the sporadic popping sounds.
The discussion of McLaughlin resumes only after someone suggests
that the static might be Jimi Hendrix's way of conveying his approval from the
great beyond. No one disputes the suggestion, because it's really not much of a
stretch to think the late guitarmaster himself would be impressed by Walden's
rendition of "Fire."
With the trappings of more than thirty years of success as a
drummer and record producer in hand, Walden is poised for a new beginning after
a two-and-a-half year interlude in Los Angeles. He moved back to
"I want to do music for humanitarian good," he explains. "Not
just to create hit records, but to be like Bob Hope. I aspire to be like Bob
Hope. Bob Hope did those tours where he'd get all of his celebrity friends on a
plane and they'd play for the cats in the Army, wherever they were. I love that
stuff. Go out and play for people and bring 'em back up. I want to be like that.
I want to do good. I have always felt that way."
In the spirit of these aspirations, he is reorganizing the
Narada Michael Walden Foundation to increase its effectiveness. He initially
launched the foundation to help underprivileged children, and for the past
several years, he has helped bring together high profile
"I believe that the goal in life is to love and serve," Walden
explains. "Based upon that principle, I love to make music that can help people
in some fashion, either spiritually or physically or in whatever way it can.
That's my calling. That's what I'm here for."
At age fifty-four, not even time has dampened his enthusiasm for
life. His words flow in a rapid-fire rhythm reminiscent of a John McLaughlin
riff when he speaks about the topics that excite him most - music, spirituality,
and helping others.
His eyes light up and his voice climbs several decibels when he
talks about performing at the Rainforest Foundation Fund benefit concert at
Carnegie Hall this past May. For the sixth year in a row, Walden served as
musical director of the concert produced by Trudie Styler (who is married to
Sting), and at Styler's behest, he led the musicians offstage at the end of the
concert in procession through the audience as the artists and the fans sung the
words to John Lennon's "Give Peace a Chance."
Walden recreates the sound of the drum with his mouth. Sting,
James Taylor, Sheryl Crow, the string and woodwind players, and the audience
were singing together. "It was a miracle," says Walden. In fact, it was a
powerful statement for peace, created by a man who draws power from being at
peace.
Walden opened his recording studio, Tarpan Studios, in 1985, and
a string of hits recorded there by artists including Aretha Franklin, Whitney
Houston, and Mariah Carey prompted local TV station KRON to dub the studio the
"Motown of Marin." The studio itself sits in an industrial park just a whisper
from the shores of the bay in
Despite a long list of accomplishments that include touring with
McLaughlin's Mahavishnu Orchestra in the early 1970s, winning three Grammy
Awards, and being recognized by Billboard magazine as one of the top ten
producers with the most number one hits, Walden is anything but a prima donna.
Rather, he constantly offers words to raise the spirits of those around him.
When members of his staff pop into the booth to check on him, he lavishes them
with praise for their work during the previous night's recording session (the
Hendrix song was recorded for the soundtrack of an upcoming independent film,
"Guitar Man"). Later, when I comment about the primitiveness of my handheld tape
recorder compared to the state-of-the- art equipment that surrounds us, he puts
me at ease by mentioning that he uses a similar device to record initial
versions of songs.
Everything about Walden's actions and words suggest that he is
as committed as ever to living up to his spiritual name, Narada, after the
divine Hindu sage, who was said to bring light, delight, and compassion to
earth. Walden's spiritual teacher, Sri Chinmoy, bestowed this name upon him in
1976, and by then, Walden was already well along in his fruitful spiritual
journey.
Growing up praying for drum sets (he now has a warehouse-full)
while attending Catholic schools in
Walden moved between Southern California, South Florida, and
Connecticut between 1972 and 1974. He visited Sri Chinmoy meditation centers in
Miami and Hartford, Connecticut during those years, and those visits led to
meetings with both McLaughlin and Chinmoy. Walden first met McLaughlin after one
his performances in Hartford, and, after another concert, he invited the
guitarist to join him and his fellow bandmates for a jam session in their home
in the woods. Their mutual interests in Chinmoy's teachings and the burgeoning
jazz-rock fusion style that McLaughlin was elevating to unprecedented heights
strengthened the relationship between Walden and his idol. In early 1974,
McLaughlin formed a new incarnation of his Mahavishnu Orchestra, bringing Walden
on board to replace Billy Cobham, the legendary
drummer.
Interestingly enough, Michael Tilson Thomas, now the musical
director of the San Francisco Symphony, conducted the orchestra that accompanied
McLaughlin's renewed Mahavishnu Orchestra group in its first concert, which took
place in Buffalo, New York. At the time, Tilson Thomas was the music director of
the Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra. Later in 1974, Thomas conducted the London
Symphony Orchestra in the recording sessions for "Apocalypse," the Mahavishnu
Orchestra's fourth album, which was produced by Sir George Martin, the Beatles'
producer. Just twenty-two years old at the time, Walden was recording under the
venerable Martin's direction, and with a band led by a man who defined his
genre.
Bewteen 1974 and 1978, when he wasn't on tour with the
Mahavishnu Orchestra, Walden spent much of his time at Sri Chinmoy's meditation
center, the Sri Chinmoy Centre, in New York. The guru called upon devotees to
engage in a rigorous set of activities, including all-night meditation sessions
and lengthy hikes. On some occasions, the guru would direct a group of devotees
to write a song or a comedy sketch and perform it for the others. Or he would
ask devotees to learn and perform songs written in his native tongue, Bengali.
Walden credits these experiences for helping prepare him for the demands that he
would face later in life. "This is what helped me hone my skill to be a record producer," he
says. "With Guru, you had to be Johnny-on-the-spot. Know a good song? Write a
good song. Because that's what we were expected to
do."
Meanwhile, the experiences with McLaughlin brought his
musicianship to new heights. Though Walden had, for a long time, performed music
in the nontraditional time signatures that were popular among jazz-rock
fusionists, McLaughlin taught Walden how to visualize shapes when he played,
enabling him to maintain precise rhythms when the odd meters found the beat hard
to find.
"He was my teacher, and without him, I wouldn't be here," Walden
says of McLaughlin. "I'm so grateful that he saw something in me, because there
were a hell of a lot better drummers than me. But he wanted a combination of
someone who could play and who would live the spiritual life, and the fact that
I was willing to do [both] gave me the opportunity [to work with
him]."
In 1976, ready to define his own sound, Walden released his
debut solo album, "Garden of Love Light," and also wrote for and appeared on
Jeff Beck's "Wired" album. By 1978, he left New York for California and
gravitated toward the production side of the business even as he remained active
as a concert and session drummer.
The most popular hits to come out of Tarpan Studios - Aretha
Franklin's "Freeway of Love," Whitney Houston's "How Will I Know," and Maria
Carey's "Vision of Love," among several others, lack the structural complexities
of the works that Walden recorded in the '70s as a drummer. "We were way ahead
of our time, playing in those odd meters, jazz-rock fusion with Indian
mixtures," Walden says. "But it paved a road so people can say, 'If you did
that, what are you going to say now?' And that's where I feel that it's given me
a new platform from which to jump."
"So