The times they were a-changin’
it was plain to see
Time to get Bruce Ray & Terry
to join Rolly and me.
We became the Jury
and changed our sound
Then we cut a few hit records
and toured more towns
When I was in my early twenties, I was having the time of my life, not only did I play for a band that had records in the charts, I also worked at my favorite radio station. Hey, how cool was that? However, I had no idea that in the not too distant future, I’d be forced to choose my band and radio.
As I look back on that decision now though, it turned out to be a no brainer. CKY had just made me their Music Director, and as it turned out, I was a hell of a lot better at playing radio than I ever was at playing guitar.
Having the Music Director title under my belt led to my becoming the Program Director of CKOM in Saskatoon. Then my career caught fire and I was off to Sudbury, then Ottawa, and when the Canadian portion of my radio tour wrapped up, I was in Toronto where I was the manager of CFTR when America called.
So putting Canada in the rearview mirror of my beat-up old T-Bird, I headed to the States to begin my new job as the National Program Director of Fairbanks Broadcasting. Things went so well there though that I left because I got live my dream of someday living in California when I started my own consulting company in San Diego.
Over the next twenty-five years or so, I was so busy doing radio stuff that I never thought about my old band days. By this time though, I was living in South Florida where I was the in house consultant for Fairbanks Broadcasting officing out of WRMF when a special box set of CDs showed up one day.
What made this box set called “Buried Treasures” so special was, it contained seven cuts by my old band, the Jury. However, not knowing if our tunes had stood the test of time and my not wanting to be embarrassed, I decided to listen to them in the car on my way home from work.
Then when Terry’s guitar intro for “Until You Do” blasted out of my car’s speakers, suddenly I was magically transported back in time.
There we were at CKY being led down the dimly lit hallway by two of the station’s biggest personalities, Chuck Dann and Daryl ‘B,’ who were nice enough to help us cut a demo tape that we could send to the local dance promoters.
However, having recently lost our vocalist, Donny Burns, we were only there in that very chilly December night to cut some of our original instrumentals. Even though we’d already replaced Donny with Bruce Walker who could sing the new British stuff better than Donny, Bruce was still a couple of rehearsals away from being ready, but he came along just to hang.
I can still hear the swoosh and thud of the studio door as it closed behind us that day, and it kinda felt like we’d just entered the cone of silence. As I looked around, I noticed that the acoustic tiles were all yellowed and surmised that it was because of the hundreds of cigarettes that were smoked in here by the many artists who had come before us.
In the center of the studio stood a large black grand piano which seemed to be crying out to be played, so I couldn’t resist banging out a few bars of “A Whole Lot Of Shaking” on it.
As we sat around waiting for Chuck and Daryl to get things ready, Bruce wandered over to where Terry and I were tuning our guitars and asked if we could help him. He was writing a song called “Until You Do” and was hoping that we could tag it on at the end of the session if time permitted.
Then when “Until You Do” burst out of the speakers, we were all shocked; not only did it sound pretty good, but it also sounded very British.
So the next day at high noon, there I was back at CKY hoping that the dawning of a new day hadn’t altered the sound.
When we all gathered in the studio again, and Jim joined us, Daryl hit the play button and “Until You Do” poured out of the speakers, I thought that it sounded even better today.
When it ended, Jim asked if I could bring the tape back when he got off the air at six because Hal Ross, an executive from London Records was coming by to take him to dinner, but first, Jim wanted to play him our tape.
When Hal listened to “Until You Do,” and the last note faded away, I can still hear him saying, “Hell, I’ll release that,” and just like that, we were London recording artists. Hey wait till the Stones hear that we’re label mates, I bet they’ll probably want us to open for them.
Then with the standard contract stuffed into the pocket of my jeans, you know, the one where the record company gets everything, and you get nothing, I headed home to share the incredible news. As I was flying down the stairs, Neil Young was making his way up, and I remembered wondering, “What the hell is he doing here, surely he’s not going to record anything? He can’t sing, I know, I’ve heard him try.”