To listen to these fifty-year-old tracks made new, to watch the stems being separated, to add studio effects to guitars the same way we would have done and rebuild something we feared was unsalvageable, was astonishing. I closed my eyes as I listened to the music, and I was there again with Ray, Kerry, Gary, and John, tweaking and modifying it to meet our stringent standards. Then I flashed back to the present, and I was painfully aware that Ray would never hear it. That was a fucking shame—a crime of mortality. Exercising the only option I had, I sent it to the other guys, and they loved it like I did.
It was a great metaphor for the ongoing evolution of Gentle Giant in a new digital age, but it meant even more to me as an artist. It made me stop and think about my life in music and all the roles I’ve played in that world, from artist to record label executive. More than anything I’ve done in decades it made me feel like a relevant recording artist again. For that session, I was back in Gentle Giant, and I realized that the feeling of creating something good and tangible was something I could never capture on the other side of the fence.
As a label guy, I was thrilled when Bon Jovi went to #1 with Slippery When Wet, and I had every right to be, since I was involved with the creation of that album right across the board. But that was a very different kind of joy than what I experienced sitting there and listening to the vocals, guitars, and keyboards of this long-lost album, and hearing them come together in a way that made it better than ever.
‘Wow, we were great,’ I said to Eber, and he agreed. That kind of truth is something you don’t always accept or appreciate when you’re in the middle of the creative process the first time around and you’re caught up in all the minutiae of having to meet deadlines, plan a tour, promote yourself, and everything else that comes with being a living, breathing band constantly consumed with the crucial question: What’s next?
Being back in the studio, fifty-plus years after making the album, feeling like I was a real part of its re-creation, was otherworldly. I walked out of the studio and flashed back over my entire career. Writing, creating, performing, being an artist—that was my life for just over fifteen years. Then, at a time when I felt I had contributed all I could as a musician, I went from the creation of music to the business of music. Thankfully, I was really good at both, and sitting behind a desk at a corporate music company—or five—made me financially secure and provided me with far more job security than I ever had as a frontman. At a time when I was starting a family, that was important. I always feared following in my father’s footsteps—never being home at night, never being able to provide for my family. I’m proud to say I was there with my wife to raise our beautiful, creative children, neither of whom ever had to worry whether there would be enough money for food, holiday gifts, and college tuition, not to mention orthodontist bills, bar and bat mitzvahs, weddings, and an abundance of expensive creature comforts. Oy vey.
When I worked in the music business, the biggest artists I worked with or discovered all had one thing in common. They were true to themselves and had integrity. From my own band, Gentle Giant, to Elton John to AC/DC to Bon Jovi to Pantera, their music will live forever and will forever leave a legacy. These artists were never followers. They did it their way, whether with my help or on their own. What I fully understand in my golden years is that while I thankfully made a successful living helping to establish these incredible artists, in the end, it all comes back to the music and the visions of the artists creating it. That video call to Brazil reinforced this feeling in ways I had never imagined.
Now, in my late seventies, I spend a fair amount of time looking back at my life, and I have determined that when I was a recording artist in my late teens, twenties, and early thirties, creating experimental and unconventional music just for the sake of doing it, walking that tightrope and developing a fanbase of oddballs who were thrilled to take every precarious step along with us—that was the most fulfilling time in my professional life. After years of missing that and never expecting to regain it, I got to relive the experience when I worked with Eber to revisit those two songs from one of Gentle Giant’s most loved albums, now with an unlimited number of tracks with which to rebuild and enhance the original recordings. Used in the right way, technology is a beautiful thing.
Back in the day, we started with four-track recorders, eventually graduating to sixteen tracks and finally twenty-four tracks. We were only limited by the gear that was available to us. Now, the only limit to creativity is narrow-mindedness, which Gentle Giant never suffered from, and which is something I’ve always shunned. Being back in a studio with an engineer and an abundance of artistic options made me giddy.
You know, it made me think, this was me all along.
Overcome by the ocean of sound coming from the speakers, the music took me back in time, and the long-dormant Giant was going through yet another growth spurt that even the hip-hop artists who loved sampling his creations couldn’t match. This is not the past. It is the present in a place where time is but a construct. As old as the songs were, they were being reborn. They were transcendent and far greater than the sum of their parts. They were history. They are the present.
My father is here. Phil is here, Ray is here, and so are my brothers in the band. This is my music, my lyrics. For at least this moment, Gentle Giant are back in full force, doing exactly what we want. There are no compromises, and I’m thriving in my element. This is Derek Shulman. These are my real Giant Steps.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is dedicated to my younger brother Ray, who passed away on March 30, 2023. He was my best friend as well as my co-conspirator in making music together for many decades.
My thanks go out to my wonderful wife and kids and all of my family who have been so supportive of me baring my soul in these pages.
Special thanks go out to ‘The Boys In The Band.’
Thank you Ian, Noah, Mateo, Hilary, and especially Jon, who helped my mumbling speech appear lucid in print.
This book was inspired by a very special man, Jack Schwartz, who unfortunately passed away a couple of years ago. He was a journalist and editor for the New York Times. Whenever we would meet and I would relate my stories to him he would encourage me to write my book.
Jack, this one’s for you.
ABOUT THE
AUTHORS
DEREK SHULMAN is a celebrated musician and music executive best known as lead vocalist and founding member of the progressive rock band Gentle Giant. Born on February 11, 1947, in Glasgow, Scotland, he grew up in a musical family, which greatly influenced his artistic journey. After achieving success with Gentle Giant in the 1970s, Derek transitioned into the music industry as an executive, playing a pivotal role in signing major acts including Bon Jovi, Pantera, and Dream Theater. With a career spanning over five decades, Shulman remains an iconic figure in the music world, well known and widely respected for his creativity and dedication.