Making His Own Kind of Music

Here in a noisy city that produces some of the world’s sweetest sounds, you sometimes need to listen carefully to separate your rhythm from your blues, your oldies from your goodies, your hip from your hop. Tastes in music change as quickly as you can program all the FM and AM buttons on your dashboard.

The recording studios of Los Angeles have served as houses of wax for everything from symphonies to surfer tunes. No one knows for sure what the public’s ear will care to hear next. It could be in a mood for Sting, Bing or the King. Or perhaps somebody a little new will come along, and others will gradually notice, and they’ll want to know: “Who’s that singing?”

At a little bistro in the Valley called the Out Take Cafe, some of the lunch customers recently sat oblivious to the accompaniment coming from the restaurant’s stereo. It was by a guy with a guttural but wonderfully melodious voice, singing apt (this being a restaurant) lyrics such as “give me tomatoes . . . and mashed potatoes,” while expressing a hankering for the simple life.

“This happens to me all the time,” says Steve Tyrell, who has just taken a seat at one of the cafe’s tables.

The voice on the CD is his. Many a day he will step into a shop or an airport and there it will be, the familiar sound of his own voice--familiar to him, anyway, and to anyone who recognizes Tyrell’s songs from the popular films they were featured in, naturally. It is the singer’s name that isn’t yet familiar to everyone, but after all, he’s only been in the music business for . . . what?

A little over 30 years.

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Steve Tyrell has been making music since the ‘60s, when he sang in clubs in his native Houston. It didn’t dawn on him right away then that the end of his vocal career might be near. Songs that he would soon promote, arrange or produce were always dancing around in his mind or coming out of his mouth.

“My voice has always been my instrument,” says Tyrell, who turned 50 last year after decades of working with other artists’ voices, other artists’ instruments.

He wasn’t a frustrated singer. Far from it. He didn’t have time to be, working steadily on the other side of the studio glass, manning control panels, making and plugging records, producing film soundtracks.

And talk about accommodating a variety of tastes. Tyrell worked with the Shirelles, and with Burt Bacharach and Dionne Warwick. He helped films like “Alfie” and “Valley of the Dolls” in scoring memorable themes. He collaborated with his old Houston pal B.J. Thomas on a version of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” that sold millions and won an Oscar.

He also worked with Elvis Presley in recording “Suspicious Minds,” and co-wrote another Elvis song. He formed a Los Angeles music supervising company with Barry Mann and ran the gamut over the next quarter-century, whether writing the hit “How Do You Talk to an Angel?” for a hot younger performer like Jamie Walters or producing a Grammy-winning, platinum-selling gospel album for Andy Griffith.

He did everything but sing.

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And then a few years ago, Tyrell was scoring “Father of the Bride,” for which the director Charles Shyer had requested a specific song. Tyrell recorded a version, just so Shyer could hear the arrangement. Later they could pick a singer.

He and Shyer listened to “The Way You Look Tonight” in a car. Steve Martin, Diane Keaton and other cast and crew members heard it and came over. Tyrell says he thought they were going to tell him to turn down the racket. Instead, everyone kept asking, “Who’s that singing?”

Tyrell’s distinctive voice ended up featured in the hit film and its sequel. And for years thereafter, friends and strangers alike urged Tyrell to make an album of his own. People called out of the blue to praise his voice.

Rosemary Clooney called, asking him to open for her at a Dorothy Chandler Pavilion show. “I almost had a heart attack,” Tyrell recalls, laughing. “The last time I performed live was back in Texas clubs. And some of those people were drunk. They didn’t listen that closely.”

But the show went well. So, at long last, Tyrell took a chance. He and his wife, Stephanie, produced an album of standards out of their own pocket. Much to his amazement, legendary musicians like Clark Terry, Louie Bellson, Toots Thielmans, Sweets Edison and Joe Sample were willing to sit in. “These guys invented cool,” Tyrell raves.

The result was “A New Standard,” a CD that Atlantic Records eventually agreed to release. After more than 30 years of making other people’s music, Steve Tyrell is a smash. He will make his New York stage debut May 9-13 at Feinstein’s at the Regency, followed by dates May 17, 19 and 20 in Hollywood at the CineGrill.

“I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been,” says Tyrell, but he’s not the lucky one. The lucky ones are the ones who finally get to hear him sing.

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Mike Downey’s column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Write to him at Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles, CA 90053. E-mail: mike.downey@latimes.com