I was driven to Chuck Mangione in my 10th year. A slightly obsessive kid, I was fixated on the song Feels So Good as if feeling good was an exotic commodity.
Piped in luscious FM hi-fi through the sound system of the insulated, smoky, tense family Ford LTD station wagon,I needed more of what he was dealing, less of the discord. There were secrets in those grooves, there were keys to the future, there was healing and, unbeknownst to me, hints of the funk I needed but didn't know I needed played by people who gave a shit.
I remember going to Ward Parkway Mall with dad one Saturday in the fall of 1979 on a trip he took to Montgomery Ward to shop for dad stuff. He parked me at Musicland 'cause that's what you did then. I went straight to the magazine rack secretly seeking Chuck. I saw his fedora-ed head on some mag, probably Rolling Stone, picked it up and read an interview. He was talking about his unexpected success and how proud he was of his new live record, made with a 70 piece orchestra.
I put the mag down, probably all bent up ‘cause I was a raccoon-child and went straight to the bins where the just-released “An Evening of Magic, Chuck Mangione Live At The Hollywood Bowl” sat, filed, with The Man Himself superimposed against the amphitheater in profile. To this day this image gives me a serotonin jolt. My hero in shrink wrap, there to quell the raging furnace of an existentially terrified internal and uncontrollable external life. It’s not unreasonable to think that the employees that day might have been a little concerned about me.
I get the feeling that the double LP, the first side of which the track Chase The Clouds Away is on, was a commercial victory lap for A and M records and Chuck after having owned AOR radio for two whole seasons with Feels So Good. Herb Alpert, having been a horn-slinging hit machine in his day, probably relished the idea this guy was carrying the torch and thriving. This is just conjecture, but I hear Herb Alpert’s a pretty cool dude.
This pursuit and ownership of this record now defined my relationship with mom and dad, the agents of gift-magic. So Santa planted a stereo record player with a handle and The Record at base the Christmas tree. I dragged the entire operation to our finished attic where my older brothers lived and the dogs hung out. I may not have been seen again for hours.
Chuck tiptoes into the intro to Chase the Clouds Away on Fender Rhodes piano, a musical arm around the shoulder, him looking deeply into my eyes asking me to sit down on a pillow and forget about everything else, just 9 minutes and 39 seconds, and hear what he has to say to me in a musical room he’s made for me. His friends the flutes are there, they’d like to let me know they’re glad I’ve come this far.The room transforms into a little forest, flutes flourish through the canopy then land on one flute, played by Chris Vadala upon whom the dappled sun is shining. They’re making a comfortable bed for melody, along with their friends in the rhythm section, Charles Bradley, Jr and James Meeks. Trombones, sneak around the corner in agreement like curious deer, as they sometimes do. Grant Geissman’s guitar erupts like a spring from the edge, cutting a wild little stream. I climb in, running my hands through water cress. Melody twists gently up old oak trees like vines. I’m comfortable there, someone has heard me and known exactly what I needed.
Someone has seen the concentration of pain inside me and told me that this particular moment of music is a moment that I can rest. I can leave everything around me, mom’s cancer, the death of my best friend, for just under 10 minutes. The beige pet stained carpet that dad never had the energy to keep clean because he worked so much, upon which I sat and cried, became a forest floor of healing.
Thank you Chuck. You’re not a meme to me, you’re not a cartoon punchline and your music is not trite. You did work you didn’t know you were doing, like all great artists. To know that the inner work of listening to music cannot only take me away to another place in time, it can also transform my inner life.
Last session with my therapist, I played this track on my phone for her and ended up sobbing again. It still hits so so deep.
In 1979, without a shadow of doubt, you saved me.
Here are Chuck Cassell’s liner notes from An Evening of Magic: Chuck Mangione Live at The Hollywood Bowl (I can still smell the paper it was printed on):
SATURDAY, JULY 15, 1978. LAST STEP BEFORE BIG DAY. Final countdown to moment Chuck heard in his head for six months. Inside A&M Soundstage Chuck rehearses huge string section. Concertmaster Gerry Vinci assembled the strings. Members of L.A. Philharmonic and studio musicians - most haven't seen Chuck's music before! Chuck's musical coordinator Jeff Tkazyik works with the brass section - same musicians who already toured with Chuck. Panic begins. Only 9 rehearsal hours scheduled to prepare orchestra musicians. Rehearsals would usually be at Hollywood Bowl. Impossible today. L.A. Philharmonic does 1812 Overture tonight. Therefore Chuck and Co. not allowed to set up in Bowl until next morning, day of concert.
SUNDAY, JULY 16. MADNESS. 6a.m. - stage crews at Bowl set up risers, mikes, lights, house sound equipment, remote recording equipment, endless technicalities. 10 a.m. - musical rehearsal scheduled to begin. Can't start. Still working out complications with sound and recording gear.
Fears of rain-out gone. Blazing sun fills the bowl. Fears of heat exhaustion set in. Recording 70 musicians very complex. Even more so outdoors in unique pace like Bowl - capacity of 18,000 with the last row an eighth-mile from stage. Problems mount. Baffles around quartet make it difficult for Chuck to hear strings. Sun melts orchestra. Amp blows up. Piano overheats. Horn valves stick. Musicians sweat it out. 1 p.m. - Under shades and umbrellas final 3 hour rehearsal comes to an end - feels like 200 degrees onstage - actually only near 100. Royal insanity. Never enough time to run through all musical material - even once.
TRAFFIC IS INCREDIBLE. By 4 p.m. bumper-to-bumper for next three hours. People looking for spaces everywhere. Chuck and quartet stay at nearby hotel to avoid missing concert. 18,000 fans arrive in cars, buses, trucks, on bicycles, on foot with picnic baskets of every description. Food. Drink. Elaborate spreads. Feasts for a Sunday afternoon.
Concert billing: "Chuck Mangione Feels So Good at the Hollywood Bowl." Hottest ticket in town. Everybody buzzing about this one. Concert sold out for weeks. 5:30 p.m. - Temperature drops to cool 75 degrees. Backstage, Chuck's personal goals: play great concert for 18,000 people; West Coast premiere of "Children of Sanchez" music: chance to record his music "live" with 70 musicians. Recording this concert for a live album, a "one take" situation - not several performances to choose from. 7 p.m. - unusually early starting time because of large amount of music to be played - concert begins in broad daylight. Chuck appears on stage with no spotlight and no announcement as 15,000 of expected 18,000 already seated - other 3,000 come in during opening numbers. From first note of "Feels So Good" Chuck remembers "a sea of moving people."
By third tune, "Chase the Clouds Away" everyone has arrived as the majesty of Mangione's music sets in. Chuck leads the way. The quartet floats. The orchestra soars. The excitement rages. The night falls. And in the darkness it becomes clear: Mangione's music transforms reality into fantasy. His melodies exude warmth and compassion. And along with his soulful flugelhorn and keyboard, several things make this night very special. The throb of a Charles Meeks bass lines. The clarity of a Grant Geissman riff. The crackle of a James Bradley drum. The sensuality of a Chris Vadala reed. The sheer power of 70 people making music together.
Ask anyone who was there. It was truly an evening of magic.
Chuck Cassell
Love the description that you laid out here in this story! I felt like I was there. Love Chuck and Bill Belzer too!
"You did work you didn’t know you were doing, like all great artists" XOXO