With his new album ‘Player, Piano,’ Daniel Lanois hopes to offer the listener ‘unexpected delights’

When the pandemic caused a halt to travel, Daniel Lanois did what he does best: he got to work.

Hunkered in the comfort of his home studio in Toronto’s Roncesvalles neighbourhood, the award-winning producer let his imagination spirit him away and made some “wide-eyed discoveries.” Using sonic melodies, studio wizardry and the 88 keys on “a couple of old friends” as conduits, the artist journeyed to some of his favourite locales: from Cuba to Mexico, Jamaica to New Orleans.

The result, “Player, Piano,” which arrives Friday, offers a dozen instrumentals and sonic explorations Lanois describes as “a little lullaby and a little wink in the eye” and, to quote something Aaron Neville once said to him, it’s “old folks’ and babies’ music.”

“We just show up for work and get on with it,” said the seven-time Grammy winner about his latest creation. “Sometimes a bit of magic comes our way. As people, we like surprises. This piano record has a bit of that in it … some unexpected delights that might put a little zip in someone’s day. That is all I’m hoping for.”

Sporting a black T-shirt, black hat and greying beard, Lanois greeted me with a smile via Zoom on a late summer’s day from his Toronto studio, which he describes as a “dusty warehouse.”

Lanois built his latest sound palace inside an old Buddhist temple, which he, along with long-time co-producer, engineer and friend Wayne Lorenz, has converted into a beautiful space. Behind him, bamboo sticks and large mixing consoles — the tools of the producer’s trade — line the walls. Between sips of coffee, he chatted about getting reacquainted with a couple of “old friends”: a Steinway O Grand and an upright Heintzman. To illustrate the differing sounds of each instrument, Lanois played a few notes on each piano.

Each piece on “Player, Piano” is meticulously crafted. Song titles such as “Eau,” “Puebla” and “Inverness” hint at the destination and inspiration, but listeners can interpret the meanings and the places each evokes based on their own experiences.

Many compositions feel Zen-like. Maybe Lanois channelled the ghosts of the long-departed monks who once recited sacred prayers and meditated for hours on end inside these walls as he composed these songs. These songs also elicit a cinematic quality. This is not surprising since Lanois has scored for film before, most notably the “Sling Blade” soundtrack.

“We make a film in our own heads for every record we make,” he explained. “That is what is so wonderful about music. In a relatively short period of time, a three-minute song can be an entire story of a film. Because there aren’t words on this record, there is a little bit more of that cinematic quality that invites the listener to turn up the steam on their imagination and build their own film.”

“Player, Piano” shows that Lanois, who celebrated his 70th birthday a few days before the album’s release, remains true to his lifelong philosophy of the studio as an instrument. Lanois and his brother, Bob, who died last year and inspired the album opener, “My All,” built their first studio in Hamilton back in 1968, in their mother’s basement. From these humble beginnings, Lanois has gone on to produce records for the likes of U2, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Emmylou Harris and the Neville Brothers.

The Piano Club and Vintage Vibes

When COVID-19 hit, Lanois was already in his studio. With no plans to make a piano record, this instrumental album that captures the sound of vintage recordings from the 1940s and ’50s just happened organically. “I got to know a few of my already familiar friends, my instruments, better, especially the piano,” he Lanois said. “I’ve been part of the piano club since I was a kid and the mystery of that experience never ends.”

Depending on the sound sought, Lanois chose his instrument accordingly. For example, the Steinway O is softer, while the Heintzman, according to the musician, is more brittle and has more “saloon” in it.

“Every piano has its personality,” he explained. “A track like ‘Zsa Zsa,’ for example, has more of that saloon sound. It might take you to your aunt’s parlour or that house of ill repute that you might have waltzed into once in New Orleans, or it might even have a little running away with the circus vibe in it. If any of these titles provide a little crack of light in the door or turn of the key that takes you some place, then let the fantasy begin.”

To help the listener on their individual journey, Lanois resorted to his usual studio wizardry. Ribbon microphones were placed behind the pianos rather than in front to soften the sound. The producer also took pieces of felt and placed them on each of the Steinway O’s hammers; this reduced the volume to half and muted some of the notes to create a softer sound that better emulated the vintage sounds from the recordings Lanois loves.

When he played the upright Heintzman, he used a similar technique: hanging cheesecloth between the hammers and the strings to create a dampening effect. “It’s a different sound that is more to my liking, especially in the bottom end,” Lanois said. “It takes the left hand of the piano closer to Jamaica!”

As our conversation closed, Lanois wanted to let me know how he arrived at the album’s simple title. He decided to call one of his good friends, Simon Carmody, for advice. He told the Irish screenwriter about his latest project and asked for suggestions on what to call it. Right away, Carmody (“Sing Street”) suggested “player, piano.”

“I had been reading a lot of Isabel Allende and had thought of all of these far-out exotic titles. Then my friend came up with those two words that clarify what the album is all about. It just worked.”

SHARE: