Hayley Benton

hbenton@citizen-times.com

Like a heartbeat, the song came alive on a waveform behind the studio's glass panel. The album's producer and mixer watched from the control booth as the monitor picked up every up and down and pause and jump. Outside Echo Mountain Recording Studio’s downtown Asheville space, a construction crew jackhammered the sidewalk, but like magic not even the faintest hint of street noise could be heard inside.

"Wait, wait, wait," B.J. Leiderman shouted over a Springsteen-esque song. The music stopped abruptly.

"How about we open it up there with some staccato? Dah. Dah. Dah. Dah. Dah. Dah. Dah," he sang, fully separating each note from the last.

Producer Eric Sarafin repeated Leiderman's request to Randall Bramblett, the lone musician in the studio beyond the control room's glass pane, and the pre-recorded music resumed. This time, Bramblett pounded the keys of the Hammond organ in short bursts at the designated refrain.

"I feel that," said Leiderman, ecstatic, holding his stomach. "I feel that right here."

The music stopped. "Now do it again," Sarafin said, watching the waveform capture each new sound.

A composer, musician and songwriter, Leiderman's work has been an ever-present force in American households for just under 40 years. He's the composer of six NPR theme songs for programs heard around the nation — including the lead-in to "Morning Edition," "Weekend Edition" and "Wait, Wait... Don't Tell Me!" His theme comes on and marks the sound of America's early morning. It's time to wake up. It's the start of a new day, and it's accompanied by the latest headlines around the world.

Leiderman has made a decades-long career out of composing and recording commercial music — with an audience of more than 30 million listeners. But there is one thing the Fairview-based composer has never done. B.J. Leiderman has never recorded an album — until now.

"This is my first album ever, after being on the air with six-plus shows (since 1979)," Leiderman said. "It’s my first album of songs — first album, period — and it's called 'Natural Public Leiderman.'"

And when you're B.J. Leiderman — with connections to musicians like Bramblett, who performs with Gregg Allman and Widespread Panic, and to producers like Eric "The Mixerman" Sarafin, who's mixed gold and platinum albums for Ben Harper, Foreigner, The Pharcyde and others — recording your first album at 60 is not as hard as it might seem.

In the early days of "Natural Public Leiderman," backstage at the 2014 LEAF festival, Leiderman was introduced to banjo virtuoso Bela Fleck, and, in passing, he mentioned his album plans to the 14-time Grammy winner.

"Sometimes it’s so cool to be B.J. Leiderman," the composer joked. "We met, and I soon found myself on Bela Fleck’s homestead. I’m sitting in Bela Fleck’s studio, and he’s letting me direct him like he’s a hired musician."

Leiderman's album will hold 10-13 songs when it's finally released. Some of them are purposely silly, such as a song sung from his dog's perspective. Others are more political in nature, like the one he wrote while watching the Gulf War unfold 25 years ago.

Some are decades old and others were written four days before his June 29 session with Bramblett. His music spans genres, from Beatles-inspired tunes to a gospel number to a song that's "as close to Springsteen as we could get without ripping him off," he said. Much like its composer, the album doesn't stick to a single topic for too long.

"My music is a little John Lennon and a little Billy Joel, with a little George Carlin and Groucho Marx thrown in," he said, grinning while wearing a Beatles "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" T-shirt. "It's more or less experimental. It’s just going to be one big ball-of-fun album."

But with his project seemingly forever in-progress, never passing the recording and re-thinking phase, Leiderman knew he needed to let go of his tightly held reins.

"I have surrendered this to Eric (Sarafin), and it’s a big growth moment for me," he said. "I used to micromanage the hell out of everything, and that’s why the album has never happened. But (Sarafin)’s got an ear for music, and I know he won’t drag (the songs) into a place they shouldn’t be.

"It was the best thing that happened to me," he said. "I’ve been the one that’s gotten in the way of my album coming out. Is it fear of success? Yes. Is it fear of failure? Of course."

But mostly, he said, it's because he's got to have someone there to wrangle his thoughts and make definitive decisions. And Sarafin was perfect for the job. Having recently moved to Asheville, the former L.A. producer ended up on the album in a lucky-to-be-Leiderman moment.

"My neighbor saw him in town," Sarafin said. "And B.J. was telling him about his project, and (my neighbor)’s like, 'I’ve got a producer!'"

Sarafin's neighbor called him up and put Leiderman on the phone.

"B.J. said, 'I’ve been doing this for so long. I don’t know what to do,'" Sarafin recalled. "So I told him I could help him finish it. We were working on it and doing rehearsals, and at one point I thought, Why don’t we use Randall Bramblett’s band? And that’s when everything started to take off."

Back in the crowded control room, Leiderman bobbed and weaved to the sound of his own music. He paced around the room and pressed his body against the walls, closing his eyes to listen, and then snapped back into reality, waving his arms freely to the beat and dispersing his infectious energy to the others in the room.

"The thing about my NPR stuff is that it's all about getting a feeling, an emotion, across in 58 seconds, just in time for them to say, 'And now the news,'" Leiderman said. He picked up a handmade lantern, string lights inside a mason jar, and stared at its contents, turning it upside-down.

"I am the luckiest composer on the planet," he continued. "I say that in every interview, and I firmly believe it. My themes have worn so well that, you know, in 2019, it’ll have been 40 years — and they haven’t replaced it. 'Weekend Edition'? Haven’t replaced it. 'Marketplace'? Haven’t replaced it. And my newest show is 'Science Friday.'

"People write me and say that no matter what happens to them during the day — or what trouble is going on in the world — they say, 'I listen to your music and everything's all right again.' And I get that. I listen to a theme song for my favorite show, and it turns my heart around. It's doing magic to a listener's soul, letting them know they're in good hands: That's what the music says."

But "with an album, I can do whatever I want," he explained, though he's worried that some of his content is too out-there to share with the world.

At one point, he mentioned that for the past 25 years he's been dealing with chronic Lyme disease, which can do a number of things to the body — including loss of memory and cognitive function.

"Here’s how crazy I am," he said. "I’ve felt for the past decade or so that I (should use) my talents to move progress forward — for everything from civil rights to animal cruelty. I want to bring people together with my songs, to show people that we’re more alike than different. ... To me, there’s nothing more important than loving one another, above everything else that we’re taught."

Hesitant to name a definitive date, Leiderman gave himself some wiggle room for the album's release, saying he expects it'll be ready either by the end of the year or around his birthday, on Valentine's Day 2017 — though he did say he hopes to release it in time for the annual NPR listener fund drive in the spring, giving it away as an incentive for donors across the country.

He adjusted his Lennon-like circle-rimmed glasses and continued: "Natural Public Leiderman' will be nothing compared to what I’m going to stomp on in the second album, if I'm OK to do a second album. I’ve had to play nice (doing themes) for NPR, but I’m a real troublemaker."