In this new series, we’ll be discussing the pioneers of audio engineering—our innovators, giants, and audio forebearers.
If we had an audio Mt. Rushmore, these are the faces that would be on it. The first engineer in this series is Tom Dowd, the “Father of the Atlantic Sound.”
Tom Dowd, as captured in a still from the documentary Tom Dowd and the Language of Music.
Who is Tom Dowd?
If you Google “incredibly interesting life”, you’ll see a picture of Tom Dowd.
Okay, maybe not. But you should.
Dowd performed nuclear research for the infamous Manhattan Project during World War II. He also created the first ever 8-channel console with sliding faders in order to record some of the biggest artist of all time: Ray Charles, Allman Brothers, Eric Clapton, Aretha Franklin, Otis Redding, John Coltrane, Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonius Monk, Cream, Rod Stewart, Lynyrd Skynyrd, the list goes on and on… and on… and… on.
As the main recording engineer for the legendary Atlantic Records for 25 years, his technical excellence and ability to think outside the box made him a true pioneer in the field.
He was an engineer during the golden years of music for several genres, working through multiple eras and recording all styles. Somehow, he was able to not only stay relevant through all of them, but remain in high demand at the top of the industry throughout.
Not only did he continue to record for over half a century, but he was at the forefront of the industry in adapting to changing technology. He was there for the change from hand-me-down radio gear and a mono disc cutter, to stereo recording systems, to 24 track tape machines, all the way to digital recording with practically unlimited tracks and digital effects.
Early Life
Thomas John Dowd was born in 1925 in New York City. His mother was a opera singer and his father a stage manager, in charge of theater productions. He played piano and violin from a young age and eventually learned tuba and string bass. Tom excelled at math and science and, after graduating from Stuyvesant High School in Manhattan at 16, got a job working at the Office of Scientific Research and Development at Columbia University.
When he turned 18, he was drafted into the military and sent off to basic training. After that training, he was immediately sent back to Columbia University. His orders read, “United States Army Corp of Engineers: Manhattan District,” which later became known as “the Manhattan Project”.
That’s right: The man responsible for recording “Layla”, “Respect” and “Stand by Me” also helped develop the atomic bomb. During his stint on the Manhattan Project, Dowd operated a “cyclotron” particle accelerator, performed density tests of various elements, and recorded statistics, as part of the “Neutron Beam Spectography” division. He didn’t find out until 1945 that his work during this time was used to develop the bomb that ultimately ended the second World War.
After the war, Dowd finished his service and wanted to complete his degree in nuclear physics at Columbia University, since he was only short a few credits. He asked the school if they would acknowledge his work during the war and give him the credits he needed to graduate. Unfortunately, because his work on the Manhattan Project was top secret, Columbia refused to honor any of it. Now, in order to graduate, Dowd would have to return to Columbia and learn the physics that predated what he used in his time in the military.
Unbeknownst to them, Columbia’s decision changed the course of recorded music forever. Dowd decided to forgo finishing school in favor of a summer job at a demo studio, owned by the Fisher publishing company.
The Atlantic Years
In the late 1940s, Ahmet Ertegun, the head and founder of Atlantic Records, was recording at Apex a recording studio in New York. He had requested to work with the best engineer at the time, who he was told was a “German Professor.”
According to Ertegun, this professor was very strict, and would not let the engineers turn up the bass or drums “too loud”. At the time, bass and drums weren’t often heard prominently on records. This was due in part to mic techniques, but also because of issues cutting bass directly to disc (the needle could physically skip if you recorded low end too hot).
The next time Ertegun showed up to record, the German professor was not available, so in walked a young Tom my Dowd who had been assigned to the session. At the time, Dowd was a young kid who raised a few skeptical eyebrows, but wasn’t afraid of breaking rules that his older, conventional contemporaries would never think of—like using multiple microphones on sources and tracking bass and drums so listeners were actually able to hear them. After that session, Ahmet Ertegun decided he loved Dowd so much that he made sure he recorded just about every Atlantic record.
Dowd was eventually put in charge of building the Atlantic Records studio, which was located on West 56th Street in Manhattan. In the beginning, the studio was an office space during the day and at night, the desks would be pushed against the walls and groups would gather around microphones in the inner office. The outer office would be used as the control room, where Tom would record with a small mixer and tape recorder. Even the stairwell would be utilized as a reverb chamber.
Tom was a big fan of Les Paul, and after listening to Les Paul’s records featuring 5 guitars and 3 vocal overdubs, he couldn’t figure out how Les was doing it. Eventually, Dowd learned the secret: Les had his own 8-track recorder. In 1958, Tom Dowd, convinced Jerry Wexler (a partner and producer at Atlantic) to purchase the second Ampex 8-track tape recorder ever manufactured. This put them technologically ahead of other studios for many years.
To truly understand just how far advanced this was, the Beatles at Abbey Road were still using pairs of 4 track machines nearly a decade later while recording Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band.
(There’s a fun reenactment in the 2004 movie, Ray, in which Dowd introduces Ray Charles to 8-track recording in the middle of a session, who then tells the backup singers to leave so he can record all their parts himself.)
Since Atlantic had a new 8-track machine, they also needed to build a console to accommodate these extra 4 tracks. Tom immediately went to work on a new console. He had a longstanding issue with the hand-me-down radio equipment they had been using, and their large rotary knobs. Being a piano player, he liked the idea of having control over multiple channels at once. He sourced some slide wires, and decided to use those instead. This was the first time sliding faders were ever used on a recording console.
Dowd recorded all styles and genres, ranging from artists on Atlantic’s jazz roster, like John Coltrane and Charles Mingus, to pop and rhythm & blues legends like Ray Charles and Dusty Springfield. He eventually went on to record rock bands like Cream, and is credited with shaping the sound of Southern rock, as longtime producer for the Allman Brothers Band and Lynyrd Skynyrd.
Later Life
A photo of a young Tom Dowd, courtesy of Dana N. Dowd.
In the late 1960s, Dowd left Atlantic Records to work as a freelance producer and, in 1967, moved to Miami where he worked primarily at Criteria Sound Studios. He made records right up until his death in 2002. Later on, he was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, where his daughter, Dana Dowd, accepted his award in his honor.
Tom Dowd was there when Ray Charles was recording “I’ve Got a Woman”, when Ben E. King recorded “Stand by Me,” and when Duane Allman played his famous slide solo at the end of Eric Clapton’s “Layla.”
Think about that for a moment: He was right there, in the studio, arranging microphones and hitting the record button, when all of these songs were put to tape. Dowd spent a life actively involved in creating songs that are completely embedded in the minds of countless millions, and that make up the very fabric of our collective culture and history. We hear these songs on the radio, in movies, on television shows. We sing these songs in the shower.
Tom Dowd was right there when each of these iconic performances took life, and played an active role in those productions turning out quite the way they did. It’s a legacy any of us could aspire to.
I recently moved to Singapore with my wife for a job opportunity, which meant getting to know a whole new recording studio scene in a new and foreign city.
We had heard and read enticing things about this dynamic city-state, and now that we are finally settled in here, we can positively say the “Lion City” has exceeded all our expectations.
An image of Singapore’s skyline at Marina Bay. Photo by Erwin Soo.
Singapore is a fascinating country—the world’s only island city-state. It hosts a population of just over 5.5 million people, comprised of a diverse collection of Chinese, Malay, Indian, and other ethnicities, who all peacefully share this 277-square-mile “Little Red Dot” situated at continental Asia’s southernmost tip.
Since becoming a sovereign nation in 1965, Singapore has climbed to fourth place in rankings of the world’s highest GDP-per-capita countries. It has been named the most technology-ready nation in the world by the World Economic Forum, the second most competitive nation, the third-largest foreign exchange market, third-largest financial center, and the second-busiest container port.
All this rapid achievement makes it easy to forget that this relatively new country—which now supports one of the wealthiest and most active economies in the world—started nearly from scratch just over 50 years ago.
A view of Singapore during its signature F1 race.
During our first days and nights out in Singapore, we discovered that the Lion City is a very musical place, with a plethora of music venues, theaters and music schools, and tons of opportunities to hear live music any day of the week.
Singapore’s Gardens by The Bay, a stunning 101 hectare green space that comprises three waterfront gardens. Photo by Suyash Dixit.
As any of us recording studio geeks might do when arriving in a new city, the first thing I did once all of our belongings finally arrived from Madrid (after two nerve-racking months of knowing that all our possessions, including all my audio gear, were floating somewhere between the Mediterranean sea and the Indian ocean) was to do some research on all the recording studios in the Lion City and start making some visits.
In the process, I’ve met some truly remarkable people, seen some inspiring spaces and been exposed to a wide variety of approaches to the recording studio affair. Here are my first encounters:
YellowBox Studios
My first stop was at YellowBox Studios, run by composer Ricky Ho and sound designer Rennie Gomes.
Ricky Ho is a veteran film-scoring composer, who received the Best Original Music Score award at the West Hollywood International Film Festival in 2008 and has been nominated for the Taiwan Golden Horse awards on different occasions. Rennie Gomes has also won several awards for his work as sound designer, including the Best Sound Design award at the New York Festival in 2002.
With the expertise of both partners, it’s not strange that YellowBox offers two different studios under the same roof: YellowBox Music and YellowBox Films.
YellowBox Music
At the heart of YellowBox Music is a beautiful 32-channel Neve 5088, the “culmination” of Rupert Neve’s knowledge of analog circuits, according to the man himself.
This is a fully-discrete analog design with custom transformers at every input and output (even on inserts) and high-voltage discrete op-amp cards specifically designed for the model. The upper “penthouse” section of this console is filled with 5015 (preamp/compressor) and 5033 (5-band EQ) modules.
The 32-channel Neve 5088 console at YellowBox Music.
The modularity of the console allows for easy repairs and maintenance, to go along with the superb Neve sound.
The control and studio room both offer a warm and spacious place to work, at 430 square feet (40m2) andover 1000 square feet (100m2) respectively.
This large recording room is able to accommodate up to 30 string players, a 60 piece choir or a 15-piece band complete with their equipment.
An expansive tracking room at Yellow Box Music.
The DAW used here is Pro Tools HD over Digidesign 192s. The main monitors are ATC SCM 300 ASL, along with pairs of JBL LSR4326 and Yamaha HS5 for the near field. The outboard gar selection includes units like the Chandler Germanium, Earthworks 1022 and Grace Designs M201 preamps, Empirical Labs Distressor, SPL Transient Designer and Anthony de Maria ADL 1700 compressors, and TC Electronic M5000, Bricasti M7M and Eventide H3000 verb/FX units, among others.
The mic locker offers a beautiful selection, with Neumann U87, KM183 and KM84, Coles 4038, AKG, C414 and C451B, and Gefell UM90 available, to name a few.
YellowBox Films is one of two sister studios on site.
YellowBox Films
The Dolby Certified mix theater at YellowBox Films was introduced in October 2010, and is one of the largest post-production facilities in Singapore. This is a 1160 square foot (108m2) dub stage that hosts three Pro Tools HD rigs and two Digidesign Icons.
The setup runs on SSL XLogic Delta and Alpha Links, with Euphonix format converters, and allows up to three different seat mixers to work simultaneously, either in Dolby 5.1 or 7.1, with Dolby E, Dolby Digital AC3, and DTS-HD available for mastering and mixing down deliverables.
A view of the back of the room at YelloBox Film’s dub stage.
The monitors are three way JBL, and picture playback is taken care by a Barco DP 2K via DV1080p onto a 9m screen. For noise reduction, YellowBox counts on Stage Cedar DNS300, TC Backdrop and TC 6000 systems.
Suite Sound
My next stop in the tour brought me to Suite Sound, an award-winning audio post-production and music production recording studio that opened its doors in 2007.
A D-Command system lies at the heart of this control room Suite Sound, which is one of five audio suites.
Or rather, I should say studios, because Suite Sound is organized into five separate suites, each of them equipped with Pro Tools HDX and a variety of outboard gear including the Shadow Hills Mono Gama, Manley VoxBox and Focusrite ISA 428 mic pres, Tubetech CL2A, AMEK System 9098 and Drawmer 1960 compressors, and Shadow Hills Equinox 2ch preamp and 30ch summing mixer and more.
The mic closet stores Neumann U87s, Neumann M149 (75th anniversary), Brauner Panther and Sony C48, among other selected pieces. The main recording room houses a Yamaha C5 piano, and the main suite offers a 24ch D-Command control surface.
During my visit, I met Koon Soo, director and audio engineer with over 25 years of experience, and Sean Chan, an audio engineer with over 18 years in the trenches, who has worked with top Chinese artists like Stefanie Sun, Kit Chan Mavis Hee or Ah-Mei.
One of Suite Sound’s tracking rooms.
The flexibility of having five different rooms allows Suite Sound to do any kind of work, from audio post-production to sound design, voiceover recording, and music composition. On top of that, they have a vast pool of in-house and external vocal talent, with both female and male voices in more than 30 different languages.
Lion Studio
Established in 1980, Lion Studio is the longest standing major recording studio in Singapore. It was built to satisfy the production needs of PolyGram in the Asia Pacific region, along with Dragon Studio in Hong Kong. (Sadly, its sister studio, Dragon, was burned down to ashes in a terrible fire some time ago).
Designed by renowned acoustician Jeff Cooper, this studio enjoys some of the perks of the rooms built during the golden years of studio design, like big spaces with a main room and three different acoustics zones, as well as cherished vintage equipment.
PolyGram brought in English engineer John Herbert to run the studio, and when the label was acquired by the Warner Music Group, Herbert purchased the studio along with his now-partners, the jazz pianist Jeremy Monteiro and entrepreneur David Tan.
The late John Herbert at Lion’s custom PolyGram console.
Sadly, Herbert passed away in 2016, and the studio is now run by Tan, and the veteran audio engineer Rufus Varghese, who knows the studio inside-out after having assisted Herbert for many years.
During its long span in action, Lion has been a witness to the creation of many gold and platinum records, from jazz musicians like Bob James and Ernst Ranglin, toregional stars such as Teresa Teng, Kit Chan, and M. Nasir.
A small sampling of the gold and platinum records to have come out of Lion Studios.
At the core of Lion studios lies its custom PolyGram console. It was designed by Philips and Siemens engineers (PolyGram was a joint venture of both companies) to compete with the EMI consoles of the time.
This split console design sports 40 input channels, 24 output channels and 18 buses, with 5 compressors on board, and 5-band parametric EQ on each channel. Only two consoles like this remain active anywhere in the world. The other one is located at ARC studios in Amsterdam.
The generous recording room, nearly 2,000 square feet (185m2), houses two pianos—a Kawai RX7 and a Yamaha C3. In the control room there are some very interesting classic pieces, like three tape machines (a 2-track Studer B67, a 16-track Studer A80, and another 24-track Studer A80) and an EMT 140T plate reverb, among many others.
In the mic closet, there’s a nice selection of vintage and modern microphones, which includes Neumann U47 FET and U87s, AKG C414 and C314, and ElectroVoice PL20, to name a few.
Pavane Recording Studio
Designed by renowned acoustician and AES Fellowship award-winner Sam Toyoshim, Pavane Recording opened its doors in 2006. Seeking to fulfill the highest demands in both sonics and aesthetics, this 2700 square foot (250m2) studio offers a beautiful recording room with ample natural daylight, variable acoustics, and remarkable wood diffuser designs.
A beautiful and unique acoustic design at Pavane Recording.
The control room is a “non-environment” design, with Genelec 1034 as main monitors, and pairs of Genelec 1031A, Dynaudio BM6A, and Yamaha NS10 for nearfield listening. At the center is an Icon console, coupled with Pro Tools HD and three 192s, and complete with a varied list of outboard gear selected by Gao Yang.
Yang is a music producer, arranger, and recording/mixing engineer with more than 20 years of experience. His credits include artists such as Mariah Carey, David Foster, Laura Fygi, and Melanie C, and has worked in broadcast, mixing the 15th Asian Games Opening Ceremony and Asia’s Got Talent finales, among other programs.
Pavane’s control room is as sleek, pristine and painstakingly designed as its live rooms.
Some of the outboard equipment available at Pavane include the Shadow Hills Quad GAMA, API 512c and Tube-Tech MEC 1A preamps, Neve 2254E, Empirical Labs Distressor and API 525 compressors, and Bricasti M7, TC Electronic M5000 and Ensoniq DP/4 verbs/FX.
The microphone locker reveals many of the usual studio heavyweights like Neumann U87i, U47 FET, Schoeps CMC 6 or AKG 414, but also others not so common pieces like the Flea 12 and Flea 24, among others.
Another view of the main tracking room at Pavane, with some of its movable acoustic treatment options in view.
In the instruments and backline department, Pavane’s recording room is presided by a Yamaha C5 grand piano, and there are some samplers and synths that should enchant vintage synth lovers, like an Akai S5000 sampler, or E-Mu Proteus 1 and Roland JV-1080 synths. These are just a few out from a list that includes 20 or more such pieces.
The racks of gear at Pavane are as opulent and finely tuned for flexibility as the space itself.
Studio manager Rebecca Gao explains that this varied list of equipment, along with the versatility of the room’s acoustic designs, helps to attract a diverse clientele that includes popular artists as well as projects from the local government (both the Ministry of Education and Ministry of Defense), and theater and corporate groups from the region.
Pavane was the official studio for the Opening & Closing Ceremonies of the 1st Inaugural Youth Olympic Games 2010 held in Singapore, and the National Day Parade in 2008 & 2012.
Leo Studio
The next step in my peregrination of local studios brought me to Leo Studios, owned by Roger Khoo and run by his team: Assistant managerLionel Khoo, studio administrator Sarah Khoo, singer Qiu Feng Ze, and chief engineer Frank Lee.
A 24-channel SSL Duality console sits at the heart of Singapore’s Leo Studio.
At the center of Leo sits a beautiful 24-channel SSL Duality, with ATC-SCM25A Pro and Adam A77X as main monitors. The DAW used is Pro Tools 12, with the HDX card connected to an Apogee Symphony ADDA.
The impressive and functional live room at Leo Studio.
The outboard gear includes Manley Vox Box and Millennia STT-1 Origin channel strips, Tube-Tech CL 1B and Retro 176 Limiting Amplifier dynamics, and a Bricasti Design System 2 for verb and FX, among others.
In the microphone department, Leo offers a great selection that includes Brauner VMA, Neumann U47 FET, Telefunken C12, or Manley Gold Reference, to name a few.
The studio sports a vibrant recording room, with natural daylight and modern aesthetics by interior designer Thomas Ng. The acoustic design features full-wall-length diffusers, custom-made by Frank Lee.
A closer look at some of Leo’s backline equipment.
An outside view of the recently-built Yong Siew Toh Conservatory of Music. Photo by Alex CH.
Established in 2001, Yong Siew Toh quickly established a solid reputation as an exciting and distinctive international conservatory, offering a wide variety of programs for classical music as well as recording.
The concert hall at YSTCM.
Both the Recording Arts and Sciences major and the recording studio are directed by Zhou Xiaodong, a veteran educator, author, and engineer, who has earned awards like the 2006 Best Voice Recording at the Asia Recording Arts and Science Festival in Guangzhou, China.
YSTCM’s main recording room.
The main recording studio, built in 2006, occupies a massive area, with a 2500 square foot (231m2) live room and 4 iso booths (the bigger of which is roughly 495 square feet, or 46m2). The control room is also connected to the Conservatory’s concert hall, as well as to the recital studio, orchestral hall and Recording Arts Lab.
Designed primarily for classical music, the recording room, four booths, and control room incorporate an impressive amount of wood diffusers, mainly 1D and 2D quadratic-residue diffusers from RPG.
The control room at YSTCM.
At the center of the studio is an SSL C200 (48ch), with Quested 412d, 212 and 410 speakers for the far field monitoring, and Dynaudio BM-15A for the near field. The recording room is presided by a Steinway & Sons D grand piano.
The DAWs available are SADiE H64 and Pro Tools HD, with Lexicon 960L, TC 6000, and Eventide H8000 reverb/FX units.
One of the four iso booths available at YSTCM.
The mic locker includes some interesting pieces, selected specifically for their results in a classical context. In addition to some of the regular heavyweights like Neumann U87i, Neumann M149 or AKG C414B-XLI, it includes some not-so-common models such as the superb Neumann USM 69i (variable pattern stereo condenser), Neumann M150 (a redesign of the classic tube M50) and Sennheiser MKH800.
GreenRoomSuite
My last stop on this first lap of Singapore studios brought me to GreenRoomSuite. This recording room is run by Toni Goh, a veteran in the Singapore music scene. Toni was one-third of Tony, Terry and Spencer—a 1970s pop/rock band that is still well-known in the region region—and has been involved in the local music industry in multiple facets ever since.
GreenRoomSuite sports the only SSL 4000G in known commercial use in Singapore.
GreenRoomSuite enjoys the only SSL 4000G in the area. It is equipped with 48 channels and a new Atomic TK-421 power supply. It’s complemented by a selection of outboard that includes the Focusrite Blue 215, Summit Audio MPE 200 and Vintech Audio X73i pres, a Manley Massive Passive, Manley Enhanced Pultec EQP-1 and Tube Tech Program EQ PE 1C equalizers, Focusrite Red 3, UA 1176LN and Teletronix LA2A compressors, and Lexicon 480L, Lexicon 960L and TC Electronic TC 2290 FX.
Racks of gear at GreenRoomSuite
The DAW used here is Pro Tools HD 10, over a Pro Tools HD6 rig with three Digidesign 192s. Additional converters include Lucid 9624 AD and DA, and Apogee PSX-100 AD/DA. The main monitors are Genelec 1038A with a subwoofer Genelec 1094A, completed with pairs of Genelec 1031A, Yamaha NS10 and Auratone in the near field.
The Yamaha C2 at GreenRoomSuite.
In the backline department, GreenRoom offers a selection of acoustic guitars (Santa Cruz OM and HD 13, Taylor 6 & 12 strings), electric guitars (Rickenbacker 12 strings, Les Paul gold top, Gretsch and Flaxwood semi-acoustics), and a Yamaha C2 with Disklavier, among others.
Summing it Up
These have been my encounters so far, and left me genuinely impressed by the options and possibilities Singapore has to offer in the music realm—not to mention in all other aspects!
Singapore is a vibrant and modern city, with a unique mix of cultures that makes it surprisingly easy to quickly adapt to the city no matter where you originate from.
For travelers, it also serves as a perfect main base to discover this rapidly growing region of the world, with direct and relatively short flights to many other exciting countries including Hong Kong, China, Japan, Thailand, India, Malaysia, Indonesia, Australia and New Zealand.
If you’ve ever thought of planing a visit to the Lion City, whether for a music project or otherwise, I can’t recommend it enough.
Jesse Klapholz‘ analysis of Rudy Van Gelder’s place in recorded music history is excerpted and adapted from his upcoming textbook, The New Cyclopedia of Jazz Recording Techniques.
It offers what may be considered a controversial take on the legendary recordist, but one worth considering and debating. These are the author’s views and opinions and do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of this publication, its editors or other contributors.
Rudy Van Gelder, pictured third from the left with members of the Roger Dawson Septet in 1976. Roughly 52 at the time, he had already spent more than two decades recording some of the most seminal works in modern jazz history.
If you were to attempt to listen to all of Rudy Van Gelder’s recordings back-to-back, it would take something on the order of four months to complete.
His recording repertoire is virtually the Rosetta Stone for mainstream jazz and its evolution from big bands and dance bands to small ensembles.
Van Gelder’s professional studio—which he operated in his parent’s living room from 1953 to 1958 before upgrading to a dedicated space—was a one-man operation that allowed fledgling upstart labels including Blue Note, Prestige, Verve, Impulse and Savoy, to record myriad talents of an entirely new genre.
Upon his passing, an outpouring of praise came for his engineering work, exemplified by quotes like this one from Kile Smith of WRTI FM, Philadelphia:
“Van Gelder used a mix of types and placements of microphones to bring us as close as possible to Monk, Coltrane, Miles, Horace Silver, [and] Grover Washington, Jr. He was an engineer’s engineer, but warmth and realism, pop and juiciness exude from all his work. With all his technique, what Rudy van Gelder wanted to capture, he said, was the human spirit.”
RVG’s true legacy however—which is often overlooked—stems not from his technical prowess, but from the economical studio time he was able to provide to these newly emerging artists. Blue Note booked sessions that typically cut an album in two days, other labels in just one. With his one-man band approach and the low overhead that went along with it, Van Gelder facilitated an overflowing fountain of new jazz recordings that otherwise would not have been possible.
Because of this, Van Gelder became almost single-handedly responsible for the recording, establishment, and dissemination of a majority of modern jazz’s recorded corpus in his era.
This is an extraordinary achievement by itself, and is somewhat masked by the syrupy prostrations of those perpetuating the myth of Van Gelder as a “pioneering” recordist or an “engineer’s engineer.”
The reality is a little bit different. In retrospect, RVG is not the engineering giant he is sometimes made out to be. Rather, he is the David to the Goliath of the huge record labels’ well-funded and well-practiced engineering legions.
Van Gelder’s real legacy is not so much in his techniques as in the sheer volume of his output—in the huge number of influential sessions that came through his suburban New Jersey doors, which provided an affordable alternative for the burgeoning independent labels outside of the big NYC studios.
Without Van Gelder, or someone like him, we might not have nearly as vast a collection of the 1950s jazz greats.
David vs. Goliath
As recorded popular music transitioned into the big band era, larger acoustical spaces came into vogue, such as the re-purposed churches employed most notably by RCA and Columbia. During these pre-magnetic tape years, RCA ribbon microphones reigned supreme.
RCA and Columbia added to the sound of these rooms by using hard-walled basements as auxiliary reverberation chambers beginning around 1934, layering their ambience on top of the natural acoustics of large spaces, thanks to the work of RCA’s John E. Volkmann.
The artists that Van Gelder is most famous for working with however, such as Coleman Hawkins, Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Art Tatum, and Miles Davis amongst many others, are the pioneers of smaller jazz ensembles in contrast to the much larger (and much better financed) jazz “big bands” of that era.
These artists didn’t need the massive spaces of the big studios to make their statement. Miles Davis’ Birth of the Cool, arguably a milestone in smaller jazz ensemble recordings, was captured at Capitol and at The Royal Roost jazz club, located at 1580 Broadway in New York City in 1949 and 1950. The standout tracks here are mono hi-fidelity at its best.
While a current misperception is that jazz did not exist in good quality recordings before RVG, one can listen to an abundance of recordings pre-1953. For example: Diz & Getz featuring Oscar Peterson, recorded in 1953 at Radio Recorders in Hollywood and released on the Verve label. Peterson’s piano sounds like a real piano, Max Roach and his style are immediately recognizable and the tone is perfect. Of course, the horns sound great.
Perhaps the starkest illustration of the recording quality that was available to jazz artists already comes from listening to John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, recorded at Van Gelder’s new studio in Englewood Cliffs in 1964 for Impulse Records, and comparing it to the recording of Coltrane’s Giant Steps made by Tom Dowd years earlier, at Atlantic Records in NYC in 1959. Van Gelder’s 1964 recording sounds like 1954, and Dowd’s 1959 recording sounds like 1969.
To my ear, Van Gelder’s tenor sax sound has a tone that is thin and top-heavy in comparison, while on Dowd’s recording of Giant Steps, the piano sound is much clearer and more natural sounding, with a better balance overall.
These are both stereo recordings. RVG’s new studio at the time had rising cathedral ceilings, while Atlantic’s studio sat in a low-rise concrete building with 12-foot high ceilings. Still, the cymbals on the RVG recording are slightly sibilant with exaggerated stick attack compared to Dowd’s older recording in what may have been a more compromised space. (My best guess is that this effect owes to the microphones being placed a bit too close to the cymbals on Van Gelder’s recording compared to Dowd’s.)
The premiere studios of this era, located in LA and NYC, including RCA, Columbia, and Capitol’s, could churn out even higher quality still. Until the 1960s, the studios these labels employed were equipped, almost invariably, with sizable spaces, large diaphragm condenser microphones, custom mixers, and professional “suit-and-tie engineers.” The major label recordings of this era are decidedly hi-fi and clean-sounding, owing to these exemplary acoustic spaces, the low count of moderately-closely placed condenser and ribbon microphones, and the minimal signal processing and signal paths.
The title for the first mainstream American hit record in jazz belongs to Dave Brubeck’s Take Five, which emerged from this system. It was recorded in Columbia’s 30th Street recording studios 5,500 square foot church, with its 60 foot hight ceilings. Featuring a mighty and memorable solo by Joe Morello, the sound quality here is astounding, and becomes even more so when compared to Van Gelder’s recordings from around the same time.
But whatever Van Gelder may have lacked in space, technology, technique and trappings, he made up for in both affordability and sheer volume, cementing his place in the history of recorded music forever.
The Phantom of Englewood Cliffs—The Three Lives of RVG
Van Gelder’s first studio was located inside of his parents’ newly-constructed home in suburban Hackensack NJ, where he was able to offer recording services at far lower rates than those found across the East River in New York City. Image courtesy of JazzWax.
The RVG legacy can be classified into three eras, both technically and musically: The Blue Note/Prestige Years; The CTI Records Years; and The Sony/Columbia Remaster & Reissue years.
Van Gelder’s beginnings in jazz date to around 1950, when he started listening to jazz in small nightclubs, buying bits and pieces of recording gear, working with local non-label musicians, and by 1953, taking on professional recording sessions in a studio he built in his parent’s living room.
These first sessions were strictly made with small ensembles, owing to the size of the space. The provenance of the early “Blue Note Sound” comes from the size and closeness of the musicians to one another, as well as the closeness of the few microphones used, and the close reflections in that hard-surfaced room.
The second era is marked by Rudy’s opening of a new studio in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey in 1959. By this time, RVG was beginning to lose his 1950s clients, as many of them moved on to the major labels, and business was waning.
At the same time, Creed Taylor (later the owner of CTI Records) was working at A&M Records, building his jazz repertoire, and RVG’s affordable studio outside of the city, with its nicely-sized room was just what he needed. Armed with Don Sebesky—a great jazz pianist, composer, and arranger—Taylor began a long relationship with Van Gelder. By this time, the new RVG studio had a new trademark sound, owning in great part to Taylor and Sebesky’s contributions, as well as some of his new upgrades.
Later on in his third phase, Van Gelder, now already in his 80s, began remastering older releases for Sony and Columbia. These re-masters did not attract universal acclaim and remain controversial to this day. Some ask “how can an octogenarian make critical precision digital audio decisions?” Other reviewers opine much more positively about them.
The Early Years in Hackensack
When Van Gelder’s parents decided to build a new home in 1952, he convinced them to allow him to expand on his early experiments with his recording hobby. At the time, he had been working professionally as a optometrist for nearly a decade, in a practice he started in 1943, shortly before he turned twenty years old.
Now approaching thirty and consumed by his interest in music, Van Gelder installed a large pane of glass between the living room and an adjacent room, which he enlisted into service as his control room. All of the mixing equipment there was built from kits and parts he had cobbled together based on the advice he found at nearby electronic parts stores.
Into the 1950s, he began buying some of the early Neumann mics, similar to those in use at the big studios. The major studios already had AKG C-12s, ELAM/Telefunken 250 and 251s, and Neumann U-47 and 49s in their arsenals, and Van Gelder was eager to keep up.
Through the 1950s, RVG switched from direct-to-disk recording to magnetic tape, using Ampex tape machines—mono at first, and then stereo two-track. His first professional-level recordings, musically speaking, were in 1953 and 1954. These early recordings have little reverberation, and some close-reflections from the room, putting the sound of the instruments right up in your face, for a very intimate effect.
In this early Hackensack studio—where Van Gelder squeezed in a piano, a set of drums, and several other musicians—there was little room for large mic stands and little room to position them, leaving precious few choices for mic placement. In a small space like this one, with its 10-foot ceilings, an engineer will be apt to place the mics close in to the instruments thereby reducing the reflected sound, which could be very deleterious in such a small room.
Van Gelder was secretive about his recording methods, leading to much speculation among fans and critics about particular details. His recording techniques are often admired by fans for their transparency, warmth and presence. Richard Cook called Van Gelder’s characteristic method of recording and mixing the piano “as distinctive as the pianists’ playing” itself. But he also attracted his critics.
The grand piano recorded in this early room is one of Van Gelder’s “sound fingerprints.” For those who know what real grand pianos sound like in person, Van Gelder’s early tone may seem tantamount to converting a grand piano to a spinet through mic placement and some compensating over-compression.
These early recordings arguably lacked depth and presence by standards of that time, with some of the Wayne Shorter and John Coltrane sax tones recorded there lacking bottom-end and body, and overemphasizing the upper harmonics. (One noteworthy exception is the sax sound on the Jazz Messenger recordings of that era, which sound pleasantly full-bodied to me.)
Despite his prominence in recording jazz, some artists avoided Van Gelder’s studio. Bassist and composer Charles Mingus, for instance, refused to record with him. Taking one of the “Blindfold Tests” created by jazz musician and journalist Leonard Feather in 1960, Mingus said:
“[Van Gelder] tries to change people’s tones. I’ve seen him do it; I’ve seen him do it; I’ve seen him take Thad Jones and the way he sets him up at the mic, he can change the whole sound. That’s why I never go to him—he ruined my bass sound.”
Blue Note president and producer Alfred Lion criticized Van Gelder for what he felt was Van Gelder’s occasional overuse of reverb, and would jokingly refer to this trait as a “Rudy special” in his markings on tape boxes.
Regardless of any of these shortcomings, by 1955, Miles Davis started recording in Van Gelder’s Hackensack and would track over a dozen LPs there before moving on to work with Columbia for the 1960s. Other Jazz greats who recorded in this living room studio included Thelonius Monk, Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane, Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, and Milt Jackson (with and without his Modern Jazz Quartet).
Still, by the end of the 1950s, Van Gelder clearly began feeling the pressure from the big NYC studios. They had large acoustic spaces, large collections of prestigious microphones and electronic gear, often put out a far richer-sounding product, and artists there could be raucous all night long! It was time to build something new.
Phase 2: The New Studio in Englewood Cliffs, NJ
Van Gelder eventually built a more professional dedicated space in Englewood Cliffs NJ, pictured here. Image courtesy of JazzWax.
In 1959, Van Gelder built a significantly larger new space which was much closer in its acoustics to what one would expect to find in a contemporary commercial recording studio.
He knew that he had to build a studio with a main space comparable in size to the major operations across the river in New York in order to remain competitive. He also knew he had to build some isolation booths and that he needed a good reverb in his arsenal. During his design phase, he attended a session at Columbia where he met engineer Frank Laico, and he would later credit that visit with heavily influencing the new studio’s design.
The word “cathedral” is often seen in descriptions of the Englewood Cliffs studio design. This word typically conjures up images in one’s mind of some vast and holy space, but this may be overstating the case. “Cathedral” is routinely used in the building disciplines and real estate business to reference an architectural element of a vaulted beam-and-purlin construction. Though large, the space was nowhere near the scale found in the major studios just a few miles east in New York City.
Though he was secretive about his process, in building this studio Van Gelder undoubtedly drew on the work published by prominent acousticians like Vern Knudsen of UCLA, Leo Beranek of MIT, John Volkmann and Michael Rettinger of RCA—some of the “grandfathers” of modern studio acoustics.
Their texts and lectures, widely available at the time, set criteria for maximum permissible noise levels, as well as methods for taming HVAC systems to meet them; methods to mitigate and control vibration and mechanical-borne sound; reverberation time criteria; room volume; and guidelines for ratios of length, width, and height.
The new studio was an immediate sonic success and a dramatic improvement over his earlier space. However, when his first major proponent and client, Alfred Lion of Blue Note, left the label, both Blue Note and Prestige Records almost immediately began using other engineers as some musicians were vocal in complaining about Rudy’s methods and mannerisms.
Fortunately at the same time, producer Creed Taylor started working with arranger/composer Don Sebesky at Van Gelder’s new Englewood Cliffs studio under the A&M Record label, which was later spun off as CTI Records.
The more impressive “New Rudy Van Gelder Sound” owes much to the larger space, the exclusive use of close condenser microphones, the recently-acquired EMT Plate Reverb, and the producers, arrangers and performers of CTI.
Epilogue
So, the question remains: Was Rudy a pioneer, a giant, a teacher? To the dismay of many hi-fi aficionados, music critics and recordists, Van Gelder was not a pioneer in any technical sense. He has no inventions to his credit, nor any techniques that can be traced back to him. He was certainly not a teacher or mentor, and kept his approach mostly to himself.
While any criticism of Van Gelder will seem sacrilegious to many jazz fans, that does not change the reality that there is much speculation but no real documentation to support painting a portrait of Van Gelder’s work as “groundbreaking” in the realms of technique or technology—nor are there any “audio artifacts” in his recordings that seem to lead to any such conclusion.
True technical pioneers of this era might include Bill Putnam at United Recorders in Chicago, Les Paul, and Jack Mullin, who brought magnetic tape recording to the US post-WWII and spearheaded its further development at Rangertone and then at Ampex. RCA’s Dr. John E. Volkmann developed much of the practical science of acoustics and mentored men like Michael Rettinger who designed LA’s Capitol Recording Studios. They shared their wealth of knowledge with the world, because that is what pioneering scientists are inclined to do.
Van Gelder, for all his contributions to the rich history of recorded music did not share his approaches or techniques, did not belong to Audio Engineering Society or give interviews or contribute papers about his work. But for all his famed secrecy, nothing in Van Gelder’s hardware inventory lends much or any credence to speculations of “secret” microphones or mic techniques.
What Van Gelder did have however, was a good working knowledge of audio equipment and the interest, energy, and ability to capture the moment of a burgeoning new music explosion.
The myriad sessions that came through Van Gelder’s studio are his legacy. It is the sheer volume and vastness of exciting recordings from the “Birth of the Cool” era that stands the test of time more than any technique or technical insight. The new sounds that these musicians made are the basis of all the success that would later be attributed to Van Gelder’s “secret” methods.
His deepest legacy is ultimately in the music he was witness to, and which he recorded for the enjoyment of and fascination of generations to come. This was music so new and unique that one does not come to listen for the audio quality—rather, they are in rapture over the music.
Despite Van Gelder’s lack of any technical legacy that anyone can confidently confirm, he shall remain a giant and benefactor of the golden age of Jazz.
How so? His relatively low rates allowed smaller independent labels including Blue Note and Verve to produce countless landmark albums that otherwise may never have been cut.
This is the real Van Gelder legacy. Without his passion for capturing this rich and enduring musical history, the world of music would have been left a much poorer place.
When you auto-tune a blue note, what color does it become?
Sarah Vaughan, pictured here happily singing in an age before auto-tuning software, knew that making subtle choices in pitch was part of the performance.
Auto. Tune. These two simple words, whenever used together and in succession, make my skin crawl.
It’s everywhere. If you listen to anything that’s been recorded in the last 10-15 years, it cannot be escaped.
It has become so ubiquitous that it is now commonly used as a verb in the vocabulary of music production, as in: “We gonna autotune that, right?”
So, how did we get here?
I remember when Antares first introduced Auto-Tune and, at the time, I was a bit suspicious of their marketing angle, which went something like this:
Let the singer worry more about the inflection and the emotion of their performance, and fix all of the bad notes afterward. Don’t impede their creativity by allowing them to get bogged down by singing in tune…
This seemed like a bad idea to me even back then, but I never could have imagined that this technical marvel (and it really is some amazing technology) would become so intertwined in the process of making recorded music.
What used to be: Basic Tracking —> Overdubs —> Mixing —> Mastering
Admittedly, the way we ordinarily record the rest of the band has changed as well—and not necessarily for the better. But we still take the time to tune guitars and basses in advance of playing them, and we still make a reasonable effort to play those instruments in tune and in time. (Usually.) And we still recognize that subtle choices and variations in pitch are part of the performance.
Anyone who has played a musical instrument or has been a singer, whether professionally or as a hobbyist, knows that gaining proficiency on your chosen instrument takes practice, dedication, and time.
There are no shortcuts. The “10,000 hour rule”, studied by K. Anders Ericsson and popularized by Malcolm Gladwell, is considered by many to be a good measuring stick—the bare minimum of what it takes to reach expert level at a particular skill. You may possess talent, but without putting in your 10,000 hours, you will never gain true mastery of your instrument.
The last time I checked, the definition of “mastery”, when it comes to music, includes that pesky “tuning” part of the process, too. Just because you can sing in time with a lot of emotion or attitude does not make you a complete singer.
More and more, young would-be singers think about their emotion and inflection rather than about singing in tune, as if that part was meant to be left for later. If digital tuning is a rote part of the process anyway, why bother with advancing your skills in an important (and potentially expressive) part of your craft? It’s sad.
But what’s even sadder still is that Auto Tuning is still applied to perfectly acceptable, if not exceptional vocal tracks.
Your Tuning Is Part of Your Performance
An engineer I know who works at one of the top studios in LA (and in the world for that matter) once told me about a Pro Tools specialist at his studio being given vocal tracks recorded by a very high-profile artist.
He listened to the tracks and he was floored: They were wonderful. They were in tune, with lots of emotion, great timing and inflection. These takes really had it all. Yet he received them with the words “Here are the vocal tracks. Can you tune them up?”
He couldn’t understand why he was being asked to do this. There was nothing wrong with the tracks. They were amazing, some of the best he had heard in recent memory. And he was told to do it anyway.
Recently, I found myself watching a music documentary about a very famous legacy artist who was in the studio making a new record. It was a bluesy, rootsy kind of record with minimal overdubs—Basically a band playing together in a room. The artist and producer were emphasizing how stripped down and “real” the record was throughout. And yet even his vocal was autotuned.
This was a blues recording, mind you. I couldn’t help but wonder: When you auto-tune a “blue note”, what color does it become?
When Fixing Vocals Makes Them Worse
If a vocal take is so out of tune that it needs to be “fixed”, then why would a producer or artist decide to keep it? At what point does an out-of-tune performance become so compelling that tuning is secondary, since it can be fixed later?
Listeners are emotionally moved by vocal performances for many reasons, and bad tuning will diminish this emotional effect in a heartbeat—I get that. But are you telling me that an artist that is capable of delivering a compelling performance is incapable of doing so while singing in tune? And, if it’s just a single note or two that are off beyond acceptability, shouldn’t it be easy for them to go back and fix those with an even more compelling performance?
There’s potentially an even a bigger problem however:
Would the Beatles, or Led Zeppelin, or Aretha Franklin or Marvin Gaye’s vocals have been better had they been Auto Tuned? Could you even imagine how that would sound?
No doubt, if these artists’ had happened to find success within the last decade or so, their vocals would have been tuned, by rote, to sound more in line with what is happening today.
We are left to wonder wonder: Would the addition of this processing have diminished the timelessness that these records have enjoyed?
I can’t speak for others but for me, I would say this absolutely would have made the records worse. The songs would have still been what they are, but the performance would have been watered down, insincere, stripped of its nuance and individuality.
One might guess that The Beatles, who loved technology and used it to its nth degree, might have embraced it wholeheartedly, and to creative effect. But in general, the use of auto tuning software just calls attention to the fact that what you’re hearing is not really a performance at all. It’s phony.
Opting Out
I have recorded a lot of different artists. I have played in several bands and been on the production end of well over a thousand live shows. I know what a vocal sounds like. To me, when auto-tuning software is used on a vocal, it just sounds worse. Period. No question.
I know that it can be applied tastefully and minimally, but it still changes the way the voice sounds, both in shape and harmonic content. It’s not really that subtle of a difference either. At least we’re not distracted by the out-of-tune notes, but the result remains something that is peculiar and inhuman-sounding to my ears.
To this day, I have still never auto tuned anything that I’ve recorded, and I continue to refuse to do so. Some artists or bands do insist on it being done, so I have them take care of that with someone else. I know lots of recording engineers who are quite proficient with Auto Tune or Melodyne and I think it’s better that I leave it to them.
This has nothing to do with wanting to be honest about the recording process, because honestly, much of the recording process is built on smoke and mirrors. I understand that. It really comes down to standing by what I believe to be important: Always make things sound good.
When I am given a vocal that has been Auto Tuned, I am never struck by how good it sounds because it’s perfectly in tune. On the contrary, I am usually left wondering what it sounded like before it was messed with. How far out of tune was it? Was pitch manipulation really warranted? Could the singer just not hit the note in tune, no matter how many takes they recorded? And why does the vocal now sound like it was played on a keyboard or by a sampler?
To me, music is a human endeavor and the more we remove the humanity from music and music creation, the less we feel connected to it. The less we feel connected to music the less we will want to hear it.
I love technology, especially when it can be used to create something more compelling and exciting—when it can be used to perfectly frame some musical gem so the listener feels that connection at a higher level, or when it allows me to perform tasks that my ears and brain can conceive of but my hands are incapable of doing.
Everything we do to create and deliver music has to be about the music, and nothing else. But when the technology and the process supersede the importance of delivering compelling performances and making distinct musical choices, then we’re really in trouble. Please, make it stop!
Named in the 1800’s for the convergence of Broadway and the former Bowery Road (now 4th Avenue) – that’s the “Union” – the area has grown to be a dynamic center of art, cuisine, and political protest. It’s the undisputed heart of NYC’s downtown, and private music production spaces abound, but curiously you have to search hard to find a commercial studio.
If you know where to look, however, you’ll discover a gem like Sound Generation, which has been in action since 2005 on 14th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues. The location of founder Andrew Mittelman’s recording and mixing facility is massively convenient for clients from every direction, but that’s not the sole source of his success.
In fact, Mittelman has applied some intense technical proficiency to this creative space, which has serviced everyone from Sara Bareilles and Leslie Odom Jr. to Sony Music and “This American Life.” Over the years, he’s built a fully networked “no limits” environment for artists, producers and composers to play in.
For mixing and tracking, his gathering of Rupert Neve Modules makes for a different kind of 32-channel console. And backing up the workflow is a powerful but precise double-sub system that takes critical listening to an elite level – see why his .1 gives 110%.
Want a serious critical listening situation? Listen without fear here. And what can you do with dual subwoofers? Mittelman has it worked out: See why his .1 gives 110% to the low end.
Sun-kissed on 14th Street: Sound Generation shines with technical excellence.
Neighborhood Advantages: 14th street is the hub of downtown Manhattan, easily accessible from all boroughs by public transportation, from New Jersey by Path train or by car via the west side highway or FDR drive. Union Square park is down the street from the studio and there are plenty of places to eat or have coffee – everything from Popeye’s or Murray’s Bagels to the Blue Water Grill. Even the occasional protest march!
Facility Focus: Tracking, Mixing, Audio Post
Mission Statement: Sound Generation is well suited for recording vocals – singers or spoken word including voiceover and narration. We welcome and have worked with musical groups or solo artists in a variety of styles including pop/rock, hip hop, jazz, classical.
The studio has a very comfortable vibe and is available 24 hours, allowing for night sessions. The facility is available for hire with an engineer as well as for incoming engineers or producers who need a place to work with their clients to provide a top quality recording, mixing and monitoring environment. Attention to detail is emphasized in the design of the studio and the equipment as well as in the finished product.
Clients/Credits: Sara Bareilles, Leslie Odom Jr., Maya Beiser, Eve Beglarian, Fred Shehadi, Yaron Gershovsky, Kobie Powell, Keith Patchel, Tom Heasley, Batillus, Car Bomb, Shiner Massive Soundsystem, Sony Music, Slash Records, Vendetta Records, KCRW: Morning Becomes Eclectic, This American Life, ASPECT: The Chronicle of New Media Art, Snorri Bros
Recorded Here:
Seriously – This American Life, Sara Bareilles, and Leslie Odom, Jr.
The (2) DAD AX32 serve as the digital routers and master clock for the entire studio: 128 I/O via HD connectors to Pro Tools, 128 I/O via MADI to the DiGiGrid network (MGO units), 48 AD/DA via MADI to the Mytek 8×192 (soon to be replaced with the new Mytek 16 channel AD/DA units which will be released in 2017), and 48 digital I/O via AES/EBU connections to all reverbs/effects as well as computer audio (Mutec MC-1.2 <> Mutec MC-6) and ISDN.
The connection via the Mutec USB/AES and sample rate converter ensures that stereo audio can always be monitored through the computer’s coreaudio driver regardless of the sample rate of the DAW. Need to check something in iTunes, playback a file from the drive or the internet, watch a video on YouTube? It is always available on a dedicated input.
The (2) AX32 and (1) DiGiGrid DLI are connected to HDX cards 1-3. When using Pro Tools the DLI is primarily for StudioRack plug-in processing on the server, allowing all Waves plugins to be used in DSP, low latency mode regardless of Pro Tools session settings.
DAD routing and master clock, plus Waves DiGiGrid are the nerve center of a facility with extreme networking.
The DLI also provides an additional 64 I/O from native audio DAW or Virtual Instruments running on a studio computer or any computer in the studio network. This offers a lot of possibilities. A session that comes into the studio on another DAW can stream as many as 128 channels directly into Pro Tools (when combined with the MGO to AX32 connections) either running on a studio computer or a guest machine.
There is no need to import and export files to/from Pro Tools, the two transports can lock and run in sync. Especially useful for Logic, Cubase, Digital Performer, Ableton Live. This allows composers and producers to make additional adjustments to the project while working in their familiar software environment, or a performer can have the VI instruments or other software in the studio on a laptop while recording.
The DiGiGrid IOC audio interface is used for talk and listen mic inputs, dual headphone outputs in the control room, a 7.1 surround input from the blu-ray player for reference material or surround decoded streaming content, output to a bookshelf stereo system in the control room for additional monitor reference and also 16 channels of digital I/O with SRC. The “legacy” effects units such as Lexicon PCM 81/91, Kurzweil ksp8, Princeton Digital 2016 which operate at 48kHz or less are still connected digitally to the DAW regardless of the session sample rate. Unlike most digital SRC which is only on the input, the IOC has SRC in both directions so the equipment stays at 48kHz no matter what.
In addition, when using the DiGiGrid network with SoundGrid as the coreaudio driver of a native DAW the entire analog and digital I/O of the studio is available, as well as the low-latency mixing, monitoring and plugins. This means an outside engineer or producer can work the way they like with any software and be insured full access to all of the equipment in the studio. No more limitations from using the HDX cards as coreaudio.
The use of the Rupert Neve Designs system provides the sound of a modern analog console while maintaining the flexibility, recall and control that a digital system and the D-Command console provide. 24 channels of mic preamplification with 3 and 5 band equalization, 8 channels of compression and 32 channels of analog summing with the option to add Neve’s unique “silk” texture to individual channels as well as to the mix buss permit many creative possibilities both for recording and mixing.
A comprehensive Rupert Neve Designs system, including 32 channels of analog summing, allow for a different kind of console.
Major Monitoring: Klein + Hummel/Neumann monitoring is provided for both stereo and surround. KH O410 are the stereo mains and (5) KH120 are permanently mounted for 5.1 with the option of 2 additional KH120 for 7.1. The (2) KH810 subwoofers can be used as stereo bass extension for the main monitors and also for the .1 channel when mixing in surround.
All monitoring is done in the digital domain using the AX32 with the Pro|Mon option installed. The Trinnov MC Optimizer corrects frequency, phase, amplitude, position and delay and also is the bass management system with the option to cross-over the main stereo speakers to the subwoofers. The AX-32 routing is unique in that it allows the Trinnov optimizer to seamlessly integrate with the outputs to the monitors as an insert. All processing remains digital until the DA converter of the Mytek which is directly connected to the monitor inputs. The Trinnov features a 3D microphone with four heads that analyzes each speaker from different positions in the room. Presets can be saved to optimize the mixing position(s), the couch in the back or an average.
The Colin Broad TMC-1 is the controller and has metering as well as extensive control over sources, speaker mute/solo, cue outputs including (2) talkback and (2) listenback mics. Different templates can be configured and saved for various inputs from multiple surround sources with summing, native DAW, Pro Tools, ISDN/Source Connect, even phone dial-ins using the studio SIP phone. The Trinnov processor can be toggled on or off as an insert which is pre-fader and before output level changes. Another advantage of the TMC-1 is that it emulates an X-Mon and is connected to the D-Command. The monitor section of the console is completely functional and controls the TMC-1.
Overall the monitoring system is of the highest quality, with multiple sources of different types available instantly. Many options exist to create cue mixes for the artist, including remote listenback from another studio via ISDN or source-connect. The analog signal path to the monitors is as short and simple as possible.
Double Bass: The Klein and Hummel O410 have a great range, extending to 30 Hz, and are a 3-way system.
Two Neumann subs make for great bass.
My goal in crossing over each speaker between 30-60 Hz with a dedicated subwoofer is to create a 4-way system. Thus my stereo mains can be 4-way instead of 3-way, rather than summing the high-passed signal of both left and right channels in a mono sub. Bass frequencies are theoretically omni-directional, which would suggest a mono summed subwoofer is sufficient. However I feel that the overall system sounds better with the dual outputs. For surround mixing the .1 signal is fed to both subs, where the possibility exists to optimize the position of each instead of only one point.
Live Live Live: The live room is 17’ x 10,’ and can accommodate up to a five-person ensemble. I have recorded cello, drums, upright piano, electric guitars and bass as well as horn and string sections – they all shine in the room.
The walls consist of a mixture of RPG 2D and 3D diffusion as well as absorption behind fabric walls and wood surfaces to create an even balance across the frequency spectrum. The result is moderately dead reflections, but without the phase issues common to smaller rooms.
Other Distinguishing Characteristics: Wide variety of musical instruments, including upright piano, Rhodes, synthesizers (vintage and new), DW Drum kit, guitars and basses and amplifiers/speaker cabinets
Excellent microphone collection
Surround sound monitoring and mixing
High quality outboard gear
Use of Rupert Neve Designs modules to create a 32 channel hybrid mixing environment – basically a 5088 console without the console
The building is on fire, you only have time to grab ONE thing to save, what is it?
Telefunken ELAM 251, because it is the easiest to carry.
Rave Reviews: Clients tell us they love the vibe and sound quality of Sound Generation.
Dream Session: I would love to work with Daniel Lanois! He is one of my heroes as a producer, engineer and musician.
“It is always darkest just before the day dawneth.” – Thomas Fuller
Things were not going so well for Rob Kolar, not so long ago. The multi-instrumentalist producer/composer’s hand had been badly mangled, and his bank account was dead in the red. Morale, as you might expect, was at an all-time low.
TV really can save lives — “The Detour” did.
“I had severed tendons in my fingers, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to play piano or guitar again,” Kolar recalls. “I had just gotten married and I was thinking, ‘How am I going to support my family?’”
But then, like a knight spurred on by a clarion call, Kolar’s prolific past – and his offbeat musical talents – came riding to the rescue. As a co-founder of the Los Angeles band He’s My Brother She’s My Sister, his unique pop/country/punk/glam folk leanings had caught the ear of screenwriter/director Steve Pink (Grosse Pointe Blank, Hot Tub Time Machine), who proceeded to turn Kolar’s life around with one bolt-out-of-the-blue email.
“He said, ‘I’m a fan of He’s My Brother She’s My Sister, and I have a new pilot I’m directing with Jason Jones. Do you want to do some of the music?’” says Kolar. “I was like, ‘Sure! I’m not doing anything in my life right now.’”
Kolar got busy, and he’s stayed busy. The pilot was for TBS’ “The Detour”, an extremely funny series about a family road trip gone incredibly wrong. Turns out, Kolar’s mad-scientist approach to composing and recording was a perfect fit for “The Detour,” a successful match made apparent from the very first spotting session.
What feels so good about getting pushed harder by a show’s creators? How is Kolar’s LA studio setup built around spontaneity and immediate idea gratification? What’s his counter-intutive approach to making the songs as funny as the show? And when do alcohol and gang vocal recording make a fine mix?
Find out all this and more as Kolar sheds light on how he solved three noteworthy songs from The Detour’s terrific Season One soundtrack: The strange bravado of “We Won,” the tap-happy “Circus Purple,” and the future retro of “Your New Room Awaits.”
Rob Kolar came all the way back to compose memorable music for TBS “The Detour.”
The Show: “The Detour” on TBS; Jason Jones and Samantha Bee — exec producers, creators; Linda Cohen — music supervisor; starring Jason Jones & Natalie Zea
10,000 ft. view–what’s your preferred way of communicating with the show runner ahead of writing any score?
Generally we email. Sometimes I will get on the phone with Jason Jones to discuss song ideas and shoot the shit. We co-wrote several original songs for the series (featured on the Season 1 soundtrack — AKA a not-so-subtle-plug for the album) and he’d send me lyrics and we’d bounce back and forth with ideas.
Our first spotting session was actually via Skype, haha! They sat me down (as a laptop) in a swivel chair – I was in LA, they were in NY – and would turn me back and forth from Jason (Jones) & Samantha (Bee) on a couch to the screen in their editing room. It was pretty hackish but we all laughed about it and still managed to get some work done.
All sound sources are fair game at The Tree House.
Musically, what did the show’s creators tell you that they wanted, and DIDN’T want?
They gave me a lot of liberty with the music and score. It started with instrumentals of my band He’s My Brother She’s My Sister and evolved into this musical Frankenstein which was often one part tap-dancing percussion, one part roto toms, one part strings, one part nylon string acoustic, one part reverby guitar, and one part experimental weirdness.
There were moments where Jason wanted something that I wasn’t quite delivering which pushed me to take more cracks at his vision, and inevitably made the piece more interesting and fitting for the show. I always appreciated the challenge. It can be frustrating at first but when you find that breakthrough it’s so satisfying and you are grateful to not have settled.
Virtually Reality — how did that ultimately lead to the mix of live instruments and virtual synths that you employ?
Well, there is such an amazing world of virtual instruments but I never want my productions to be solely in the box.
I recorded all the tap dancing live in my studio. Lauren Brown, who also drums and taps in our band KOLARS, performed all the tap rhythms. She has a very unique ability to tap and drum at the same time. Anyway — most of that was live. Same with the guitars.
I used EastWest library for some orchestral elements and even some percussion because their samples sound so good and natural. I also love this library called SMACK which has all these awesome clap and percussion samples – it includes trash cans and tubs being hit, clanking bottles etc. Sometimes I’d use Vintage Horns which is another sound library for kontakt. They have some very natural horn sounds. I also love Attic which features all these awesome vintage keys and synths.
My Room: I love creating and exploring sounds in a spur-of-the-moment way. The studio setup is such that I can press a couple of buttons or plug in a cable and can get any number of sounds. Guitar, MIDI, live mics, bass etc… can all be accessed very quickly which allows me to knock out ideas and experiment in a spontaneous fashion.
I felt like the music on this show should have this kind of energy. The pace is quite quick and punchy with a lot of unpredictability, and the music should reflect that. Often I would find a tempo, a chord progression, hit “record” and wing it, essentially jamming as I recorded. Then I would save and edit the best bits.
The compact Tree House in Echo Park is “Detour’s” musical home base.
Studio Solution 1 – composing and recording “We Won”:
Yes! This was a fun track to do because the idea was that this restaurant (in the show) “Conquistador” had created this whole musical performance piece.
I tried to imagine how they would have hired local singers and a local composer to create it all. I wanted to find the balance of a somewhat low-budget hokey sound while still giving it an earnestness in the delivery. I never want the songs to sound too “jokey”. They should feel like they were created with a genuine devotion to the sound. I find they come off with way more humor and authenticity that way.
As for the vocals on this song, I invited my friends Tamara Yajia, Pat O’Connor, Natalie De Almeida and Lauren Brown to come over and be the choir on the track. We had a couple of drinks and I ordered everyone Zankou chicken. We all had a ball laying down the tracks. Pat and Tamara ended up being the stars and really added such an authentic texture to the vocals. I laugh every time I hear them on that track.
To get the gang vocal sound… We were having a party and I invited all out tipsy friends to come up and sing it together. I mixed it just low enough to disguise the pitchy notes and loud enough to give it that feel of many people singing together.
Studio Solution 2 — composing and recording “Circus Purple”:
All the tap was performed by the talented Lauren Brown (mentioned earlier). She is also the drummer in KOLARS and He’s My Brother She’s My Sister. Often we’d set a tempo and I’d just let her riff rhythms with her feet. Then I’d chop them up, arrange them and add elements on top.
I found the tap sounded especially good when I would crank my preamp or add harmonic distortion to fatten the sound. That and reverb made for a great tone. I love using Universal Audio plugins for that — the EMT reverb is essential for getting the right tap tone. I also love Decapitator by Soundtoys.
Studio Solution 3– composing and recording “Your New Room Awaits”:
This episode (“The Hotel”) was really fun to do. Its director Brennan Schroff suggested, “Why not score the episode with Muzak like you would hear in a crappy motel?”
This piece was an example of that. It walks the line between needle drop and score. It almost sounds like something that could be playing over the hotel PA yet it propels the zaniness of the scene. I had never really created Muzak before so it was an awesome and hilarious challenge. For uber fans of the show and score… I did a Muzak version of the main theme song and snuck it in there as a little musical “cookie” for those who might pick up on it.
To All You Composers Out There… Keep at it. Keep creating. Do it because you love it. I spent years as a manny, after-school teacher, selling comedy tickets on the streets of NY, sweeping rat shit in an East LA warehouse to support my music and aspirations of being a songwriter.
My life was in a difficult place, I had a terrible hand injury and was basically broke when I got a random email from Steve Pink saying how much he loved my songs and asking if I’d be interested in scoring this pilot he was doing.
You never know who your fans are and when opportunity comes knocking. But it will! Have hope and stay the course. Find what you love and pursue it — no matter how hard logic might try and persuade you otherwise.
The tap master on “Circus Purple” — drummer Lauren Brown of He’s My Brother She’s My Sister.
Is it location location location? Or maybe timing is everything? Perhaps he made his own luck?
Better to can the clichés, and just chalk Velvet Elk Studios up to the great taste of its founder, Don DiLego. This singer/songwriter/banjo picker realized a few years ago that as much as he loved his East Village home base, sometimes you just gotta get away.
How he found his special place is a story best told by DiLego himself, and you’ll find it below. From there, Velvet Elk’s signal path from a Zen hideaway to a full-fledged studio is explosively inspiring, but here’s the best part: What was once a purely personal facility has become a destination studio open to all who understand its allure.
Blessed with big windows looking out to some truly great outdoors, plus a groovy analog gear list, desirable in-house instruments, and an extremely welcoming atmosphere it’s easy to see why artists are making the 90-minute jaunt from NYC to this audio haven in Pocono Lake, PA.
The benefits are also clear to hear: DiLego’s own recently launched solo album Magnificent Ram A reflects the natural vibe that comes in loud and clear from recordings made there. The instantly uplifting collection of Americana rock songs was released on Velvet Elk Records, the label DiLego co-founded with renowned downtown NYC rocker Jesse Malin.
If tracking by the fireplace in a room with a 30’ ceiling, an uncommonly creative environment, and even an Otari tape machine with a bizarre history sound intriguing to you, then point your eyes down to the joi de vivre of Velvet Elk. A ride on the interstate may very well be next.
On the shores of Pocono Lake, PA — come and clear your head at Velvet Elk.
Facility Name: Velvet Elk Studio
Website: velvetelkstudios.com
Date of Birth: 2005
Location: Velvet Elk City, PA a.k.a Pocono Lake, PA
Neighborhood Advantages: I had moved from Boston to New York around 1996-97. Most definitely a lost soul at the time. I had always been “the guy in the band” who would do the demos on the 4-track or have some sort of tiny recording set-up.
After being settled in NYC for a few years, I started to get the itch to get out, at least to a place in a more country locale where I could work on songs and do some recordings. Seeing as though I was essentially financially insolvent at the time, it was mostly a fool’s errand. But my girlfriend at the time’s family, who were from Philly, had a “little getaway cabin” in the Poconos and they offered to let me throw a few things in a back room there to use when they were not there.
Don DiLego is lookin’ at you from a special destination studio.
I was totally excited, and also totally clueless about where, in fact, the Poconos were. We took a drive out one weekend and fell instantly in love with the place, which was neither tiny nor a cabin. But it was in the woods and tranquil and the perfect escape. Anyway – a few years later I found a way to buy it and came up with the foolish idea to start renovating the place into a fully functioning studio…that only I use.
I think what is most unique about the Velvet Elk, is that it wasn’t really built for commercial use in mind. So I spend endless hours crafting the minutia and details of the design to be exactly what I would want if I wanted to get out of the city and have a great recording experience.
The control room looks over the woods in the back, so there are often deer of turkey and if you’re lucky, the occasional black bear. It’s pretty incredible. And because I really didn’t have traditional sound dampening issues to deal with, there are windows in the recording space that let a lot of natural light in. You definitely feel a part of your outdoor surroundings while you’re working there.
Complete Retreat: I think the most appealing thing about The Velvet Elk is that what you’re getting is an entire experience, and not just “studio time.” You’re sort of giving yourself up to a lifestyle for the time you’re there.
There is definitely no, “hey let’s take a break and run outside to the bar.” More likely, you’re headed out to the hammock with a can of the local’s finest! Essentially, the rate you pay there includes the studio, the engineering and even the lodging. It’s an all-in kind of deal.
Facility Focus: Tracking, mixing and producing.
Mission Statement: Basically, I want to be the studio that you wish you had for yourself. Which is to say, not that it’s the glossiest or has the most vintage gear anywhere, but that it’s a comfortable, inspiring, non-stress inducing environment to do your best creatively.
I’d say if you’re a large band looking to do a “big budget” sound record, it’s not the first pick on the list. I get a lot of artists who have started something elsewhere, who want to come out, get away from the city, and focus on finishing their record. I love that situation…getting artists over that vital hump.
Of course, I’ve also done many records start to finish, but I like to keep the number of people out in the studio at one time as reasonable as can be, both for comfort and for focus.
Don’s Directive: In a nutshell, here is the story of how my studio came to be. After finding the house (as mentioned earlier), I had a room in the back with my humble collection of recording gear. I was tracking my own material and helping friends out with their demos and bits.
Jason, to whom I will forever be indebted, was out at my place doing a few songs. I mentioned how “one day” I will convert the garage and renovate this and change that, and basically described my grand vision for a perfect little studio that I knew somehow I would never be able to afford.
Well, Jason, who in addition to being a great songwriter is also a master carpenter, literally stands up and announces, “Well, let’s start now!” He walks into what at the time was the garage, grabs a ladder, and starts ripping down the ceiling. And that was it right there.
The next year and a half consisted of Jason dedicating untold hours of time coming out to the house and spending weekends creating a mess. Since there was no pressure or timeline to open the studio to the public, I just made sure every nook and cranny was built the way I’d want it if I had my own studio…which of course, is what was happening!
There are a ton of old vintage radios and non-working instruments and art that adorn the walls, and corners, and wood beams that I think all make for a creative environment. I’d be lying if I said every attention to detail was paid on the acoustic design, because that was definitely not the case. It was more “in the moment” decisions like, “Hey, let’s put a skylight there!”
“State Trooper”— Bruce Springsteen cover by Don DiLego
Key Personnel: Me
System Highlights: Way too much to list, but some highlights:
Neumann u47 – The Big Daddy – the gold standard and great great on vocals and drums.
1176 Blue Stripe – it’s the holy grail.
Otari 5050 ½ 4 track – besides the great tape saturation I get off this little machine, I also managed to find it with close to ZERO hours on the heads as it was, get this, a prop piece on “Murder She Wrote”. I flew down to Orlando and drove it back all in a day.
Pultec EGH-2 – a sweet vintage EQ that colors things unlike any other EQ.
Ring in the outboard!
Urei LA-3A – guitar and vocal heaven. Such a flexible go-to unit for compression.
Dangerous D-box – first time I bought a piece of “digital” gear and actually thought “that was worth it”. Seriously. We’re told about how much sampling and conversion rates affect our mixes and other digital tidbits…but a lot of times I think its hooey. The second I plugged this little fella into the playback routing, I was blown away. Instant clarity of the digital realm.
UAD + Soundtoys Plug-ins – can’t live without ‘em.
SM57 – I know I know. But I actually recently did an EP with a guy in two days, and we decided to do the WHOLE thing on one lone SM57 (through a Neve and 1176 of course), but honestly, it came out great! That dude is indispensible.
SM7 – for all the same SM reasons.
Coles 4038 Ribbon – literally the “dark horse”. Always sitting above my drum kit.
Neve 1073 (2) – They’re not bad.
API 512 (6) – Honestly, might be the best “army tank” pre you can buy if you only had one. Surprisingly good on vocals.
Roland Space Echo – umm, it’s a Space. Echo.
Smart Research C2 Compressor – A good friend of mine AND great engineer would always pop this on the mix buss. Besides about everything else I’ve stolen from him, this one lives on. Great color on the 2-mix and honestly, also great on drum overheads.
Distressors – who doesn’t like them?
Radle Cabinet Grans Piano 1898 – unmistakable sound and vibe. I got REAL lucky finding this piano.
Wurlizter and Mellotron – because you NEED these on your song even if you don’t know it yet.
Schroeder SA-9 20 Watt Amp – this guy builds amps for Wilco. So, of course, I had him build one for me!
RCA 400 Tube Amp – don’t ask. You’ll never find it. Might be the last amp I’d part with and it’s worth nada.
Pro Tools HD w/ Apollo 16 + Apogee Rosetta 800 – to record stuff.
The ’70’s sound of Room A awaits.
Other Distinguishing Characteristics: Since my place is a non-traditional studio environment, I’ve adapted things to accommodate different sound needs. The main recording Room A, was built around mostly my own needs as a singer-songwriter. My sound is not a huge rock sound, so the room was not built with that in mind. It was built to capture those warm, flat tones of the “70s”, Fleetwood Mac-like drum sounds.
But basically, I have wired up the entire house outside of the 3-room studio space to cater to those different needs. For example, on the last Hollis Brown album I produced there, the band was looking for a little bigger, roomier drum sound. That is not something I would normally get in the A room.
But the living room of the house is two stories, which carries up to a loft space. It has 25-30’ ceilings, and we just set everything up in there, directly in front of the fireplace. We were able to use the added ceiling height for the sound reflection we needed AND we got to record in front of a burning fire. Any given hallway or closet space in the house has some junction box somewhere with XLR and ¼” inputs to the control room.
The building is on fire, you only have time to grab ONE thing to save, what is it?
Damn it! My Gibson J-45. I mean, no point in having recording equipment if I ain’t got songs to record!
Rave Reviews: I think, everything that I Iove about it myself. Honestly, the thing that I hear a lot of people say is, “You’re so lucky to have this.” Which, of course I am. BUT…it wasn’t easy!
Most Memorable Session Ever: Hollis Brown – “Loaded”
Session You’d Like to Forget: I’m being honest here, I’ve been so picky about what goes on there and basically self-curated the sessions, that it’s all been pretty great.
Dream Session: Billie Holiday. I just want to be on that room when she sings…and get out of her damn way.
Ambience amplified
Another amp setup
The F. Radle Cabinet Grans Piano 1898 was a fine find.
For Creative Media Design (CMD), an NYC-based audio post production facility, the sweet is far outweighing the sorrow in their new location. Upended when their longtime home on 28th St. and Fifth Avenue was flipped to make way for a skyscraper, the multifaceted firm moved up and over to a new HQ with triple the square footage on 37 W. 37th St.
The increased space is only a small part of the story, however. For President/Owner Mike Zirinsky and his team, which includes Head of Production Fridrik Ingimundarson and Head Mixer/Engineer Bob Kirschner, the relocation was an impetus to emphasize the client experience.
Their customer base includes a full plate of commercials, TV, radio, and video games for ad agencies, production houses, corporate clients, and networks. CMD is also home to a pair of fresh ventures including The Voice Shop which offers VO coaching classes, and CB Radio Tours, a joint venture with the firm Marketing Maven that produces radio media tours.
Collaborating with studio designer Crossley Acoustics, CMD successfully reimagined its 5,000 square feet as a locale with the latest technical acumen plus loads of natural sunlight, creature comforts and vibe. “Once our clients arrive at CMD, they don’t want to go back to their office — they’d rather stay here,” Zirinsky says. Sounds like going to a happy place can be very good for business.
Studio A control room, skylight view. The oversized skylight provides an abundance of natural light. (all photos: Tim Crossley)
Studio A control room, rear view. State of the art acoustic design, custom furniture and personalized service make this room a pleasure to work in.
Studio A vocal booth, featuring a Neumann M149 tube mic. With a booth this large we can record anywhere from one talent up to a mid-size group with ease.
Take a break from the day and watch the clouds go by in CMD’s reception area, which has another oversized skylight located directly above the blue velvet couch.
Studio B control room. A stereo room for recording, editing and mixing, featuring Focal monitoring, custom producer’s table and an intimate vibe.
Enjoy an up-close view of the Empire State Building from CMD’s lounge. Relax with an espresso in this welcoming, airy space.
Offices: Natural light and a clean design make CMD an enjoyable and productive workplace for its employees and clients.
Clients are welcome to hang out in CMD’s modern industrial kitchen. It’s equipped with a fully stocked fridge, stove & oven, butcher block bar and a great selection of drinks.
Most albums don’t make demands. They politely request that they be played, and they very much hope you enjoy what you hear.
The Late Great Bloomer, released by the artist Sheron earlier this month, comes from that first camp. For his adventurous album recorded in binaural 3-D audio, the Brooklyn-based multi-instrumentalist demands – well, at least strongly suggests – that you listen on headphones or “capable speakers.”
In other words, please make earbuds or laptop speakers an absolute last resort, and if you do go that route, prepare not to get it.
“The Late Great Bloomer” by Sheron offers up an adventure in binaural audio.
This is a full-length binaural concept LP, mixed and mastered using novel technology from 3D3A. That has helped Sheron to craft not just an immersive audio experience, but a transporting one. Along with hooking on to the songs themselves – an atmospheric, American crossroads of modern and vintage influences — it’s Sheron’s hope that the listener will feel some real magic – ideally hearing the record uninterrupted from end-to-end.
Recording with a Neumann KU-100 dummy head microphone (a.k.a Fritz) was just the start of Sheron’s investigation into 3D Audio technology. He began experimenting with different recording approaches across the country on a wide variety of instruments, bringing binaural microphones to churches, concert halls, cabins, barns and bedrooms.
Notably mixed in multitrack, the binaural Bloomer offers up a different kind of audio immersion, allowing Sheron to tell the album’s story organically. “I want to place the listener into the world of the songs,” he explains. “At times you might hear something small whizz past your head, a distant horn section, a whisper in your ear, or feel surrounded by a choir.”
It’s an album that stands up to repeated listenings, revealing new sonic details to the listener each time. But as you’re about to learn in this SonicScoop interview with Sheron, taking on new recording techniques and then pushing them to outer limits is very hard work – a task packed with pitfalls but plenty of rewards.
(listen on Spotify’s highest possible resolution settings for best results. High quality downloads are at http://www.hellosheron.com.)
Andrew, in your own experience, how would you characterize the shortcomings of listening to music recorded using conventional methods? Why was it so important for you to transcend these limitations for the production and eventual playback of your album?
Great question. I don’t think of conventional recording methods as limited or having a lot of shortcomings; some of my favorite records are mono, and sound incredible out of a three-inch cardboard speaker.
What I was reaching for when working on The Late Great Bloomer was realism – an imitation of the way you’d hear the songs if they were being performed live, just for you, in a high-ceilinged room with dozens of musicians and singers surrounding you – and telling a more compelling story through an experience more immersive than what you would hear through traditional loudspeakers.
You talk about going down the “rabbit hole” of 3D audio technology. Can you be more specificabout what that rabbit hole entails: What kind of journey does a person go on when they commit to recording, mixing, and mastering in unconventional audio techniques?
I worked in traditional stereo for quite a few years before even hearing about binaural, so when I came across a Neumann KU100 for the first time at my producer Tommy Jordan’s house it was a real ear-opener.
I started searching for any and all binaural albums I could find – only to feel a little disappointed because it seemed like most audio engineers either thought binaural microphones were a gimmick, or came from the minimalist, purist side of recording practices and used one dummy head to capture a one-take live performance in a room — Chesky Records have made a lot of beautiful recordings like this.
Listening to examples of the latter was enjoyable and interesting to me, because mixing happens in a similar manner to some of my favorite early recordings or one-mic bluegrass albums: The musicians mix themselves acoustically or are moved around in relation to the dummy head. What you hear is what you get.
That method was, and is, really compelling to me, but I couldn’t help but wonder what a binaural record could be like if it were approached with the same sort of in-studio creativity that so many of my favorite albums were born out of.
So I set out to make a multi-tracked binaural record. But I soon learned that as soon as you start mixing binaural signals together you start having problems.
We’ll get to those difficulties in a minute – first, there’s another important technical detail to go over. You mentioned “crosstalk-canceled loudspeakers” more than once to me. Can you please explain what those are, and why it was important for you to master their use?
At this point it might be helpful to define what binaural audio is for those that might be unfamiliar. The word “binaural” literally means “using both ears,” so the simplest definition of binaural recording is that it tries to capture the complex way in which your ears hear sound in the real world. We can boil down that complexity to three sets of “cues”, or bits of information:
Interaural time differences (ITD) – supposing a sound source is located on your left side, it will reach your left ear before your right.
Interaural level differences (ILD) – that same sound coming from the left will also be louder in the left ear than in your right
The principle of cross-talk cancellation in action (source: University of Southampton Institute of Sound and Vibration Research)
Spectral cues – The shape of your ears, where they are placed on your head, and other characteristics that distinguish people from each other make sound bounce off of and wrap around everyone differently. Your brain has gotten used to how your physiology sounds, and these are what we call “spectral cues”
All of this information put together is called an HRTF (head-related transfer function) and is analogous to your fingerprints. Your HRTF is unique to you.
There are a lot of ways to end up with binaural audio. The most straight-forward is using a dummy head like the Neumann KU100 – a stereo microphone with one capsule in each ear. When you play back a recording made with this microphone over headphones, you hear what the dummy head’s ears heard and it blows stereo out of the water when it comes to realism. At times, you can really feel as though someone were whispering in your ear, or a fly is buzzing around your head, or the distance between you and a far-off trumpet.
But I should mention that there is a problem here – the dummy head’s HRTF is not the same as your HRTF. This mismatch is the main reason that some people have a more realistic experience listening to recordings made with that particular microphone. The more similar your head and ears are to the dummy’s, the more accurate the binaural cues will be — more on that later.
So now that we have some binaural audio, let’s try to play it through some traditional stereo loudspeakers – one on the left and one on the right. Suddenly the sound isn’t as 3D anymore. That sensation of closeness when you heard the whisper in your ear has jumped back into the speaker boxes and away from your head.
What has happened is the result of what we call “cross-talk”. Ideally, what we want is to play back the dummy head’s left channel (left speaker) directly into your left ear (and the same for right to right ear), but instead the left speaker is pumping out sound in all directions, and those sound waves are making their way to your right ear as well as your left.
Crosstalk-cancelled loudspeakers create an invisible wall between the two channels by using interference patterns, so that the left speaker is heard significantly stronger in the left ear than the right and the right speaker is heard significantly stronger in the right ear than the left. Now the binaural cues are preserved just as in headphones, and you can hear the sound in 3D, but through loudspeakers and in the air, which is a markedly different experience to the ear and brain.
Let’s focus on the recording phase of the album: Were there special requirements for where you had to track the performances?
A Neumann KU 100 named Fritz was the tool for Bloomer.
Once I decided I was going to make a multi-tracked binaural album, I was free to place the dummy head microphone in any number of creative ways when recording the basics without being tied to the one-mic, one-take philosophy.
So I took the Neumann KU100 (nicknamed “Fritz”) to record with me all around the country: organ in a church in Connecticut, in a concert hall in California, a couple cathedrals in Manhattan, and I put him under a piano, hanging over a drum set, upside down in a kick drum, beneath some bedsheets…I focused on getting really interesting source material at separate times, which is impossible if you’re tracking all the musicians live in a room to one stereo track.
You discovered there were many challenges of mixing in binaural: What was unique about the way that your album was recorded that introduced these challenges, since many binaural albums are “mixed” live via the placement of the instruments relative to the microphone? And then in the actual mix phase itself, what were some of those challenges that you had to overcome?
Once I had this wealth of source material I now had to find a way to mix it all together into what felt like a cohesive, one-take live performance much like those Chesky records I mentioned before.
The main issue I came across is that your brain has lots of trouble understanding all of the binaural cues when you stack them on top of each other. Here’s an example: for one song I recorded a female choir in a church in Manhattan – a huge space with a long reverb tail, and the lead vocal for the song was recorded while I was mixing the record in the live room of Art Farm studios in upstate NY (not a very long reverb tail).
These two tracks sound beautiful separately, but when I mixed the two together they sounded significantly worse in terms of realism. It still sounded like a good stereo recording, but much of that sense of space is lost in translation. The feel was totally different.
It was really frustrating, and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it until I met Dr. Edgar Choueiri, a Princeton professor of electric propulsion for spacecraft with the heart of an audiophile who developed a new way to tackle the cross-talk cancellation problem in loudspeakers without coloring the sound.
I worked at his laboratory for a while and he loaned me some equipment I took to the mix session in order to create a cross-talk cancellation filter for my mixing setup in the barn at Art Farm. This setup allowed me to play back some of the non-traditional binaural source material I had collected over the crosstalk-cancelled loudspeakers and re-record them with the dummy head in this new space.
This way, the original character of the recording comes through, but it sounds like it exists in the same room as everything else, and then mixing everything together becomes much easier.
This is just one example – there was also the problem of proximity, the wet/dry ratio with distance, re-amping the rare mono tracks that I had recorded and couldn’t part with, and other choices all aiming to make the final mix sound like all of the tracks were playing back simultaneously all around the room.
Did the fact that you were solving many of these problems as you moved along require you to ask performers to come back to the studio to record sessions? What special preparation is required for musicians who are performing on a record like this — do they need to be coached in any way to do things differently?
I played most of the instruments myself, so if there was something I wanted to re-record while up in the barn, I just did it, and any mono recordings I had done of the other musicians (like Alec Spiegelman’s woodwinds) I re-amped in the room and played something similar like trumpet alongside them live to try to mask the fact that speakers were being used.
Unlike the horn or string sections sometimes I didn’t want the signals to be fixed in space, so I would dynamically move the speakers around the room, which added another element of performance to the album.
Was there a learning curve for mastering the album? Who mastered it, and what was unique about the mastering process?
Not really – Joe LaPorta over at Sterling Sound mastered the record and I attended the session in order to create a crosstalk-cancellation filter for his mastering setup. It was really rewarding to see him start and look over his shoulder when the intro of the record made him think something was flitting past him.
Once the album actually gets to the listener, what is the preferred method of playback for them?
Crosstalk-cancelled loudspeakers. But since those are still rare at the moment, the next best option would be some open-back headphones in a quiet environment.
What will their experience be if they listen in lower-grade playback systems, such as everyday earbuds?
Anything will work. The quieter the environment the better because if your brain is hearing the world around you and the world I’m trying to take you to at the same time, it won’t be as effective.
And remember, this was all recorded with a dummy head microphone with a mismatched HRTF, and although it’s a big step towards realism away from flat stereo, it’s far from a perfect technique. It’s likely that you’ll hear something in front of you that was recorded behind you, or not really hear the difference in the elevation of sources, or externalize some sounds better than others.
I think of it like looking at a completely new world – colorful, energetic, teeming with life – through a dusty window. So use your imagination! Listen closely and try to point out where everything is in the room and search for the many little details all around you.
Now that you’ve completed The Late Great Bloomer, where do you see binaural and VR audio headed?
We’re right on the cusp of a revolution in audio realism, but there’s a big problem with VR developers cutting corners on audio in favor of better visuals. And that makes sense – people see the difference between 4K and 240p in video a lot more consistently than hearing the difference between a 96kHz WAV and a 160kbps OGG (Spotify’s default).
But this isn’t a question of kbps – most people don’t even realize that 3D audio exists. And after all, you can take something that looks terrible, like The Blair Witch Project, and add great sounding audio, and end up with a pretty compelling movie, so I think the immersive qualities of VR experiences could be massively improved – practically overnight – with just a little attention to the audio and providing a little education to the VR consumer.
Ambisonics recordings are one really exciting domain – instead of recording through a dummy head, we can use an array of capsules to measure the air pressure in the entire field of sound in the space surrounding the array. Once we have a mathematical representation of the sound field, we can erase the array of microphones from the image and then superimpose a different object – say a model of your head with your HRTF.
Then, we can generate stereo binaural audio from that model, and if you wear headphones with a tracker on them, we can record which way you’re facing and rotate the sound field to match your view so you can choose to look in any direction after the recording has already been made. This makes a big difference with headphones externalization – or really hearing the sound in the space outside of the headphones, which is another downside of a static binaural audio track. A great example would be a VR experience in which you’re sitting in a chair at a concert, and when the horns in the eaves come in, you can turn around and look up at them and the playback will reflect your rotation.
A friend of mine, Joseph Tylka, one of the graduate student researchers at the 3D3A laboratory, is working on sound field navigation, which would have a big impact on VR audio. Imagine sitting in that same chair at the concert, and now being able to not only rotate and tilt your head, but, very naturally, lean towards the person sitting next to you, who is whispering something quietly, and really feel them get closer to your ears, not just louder, and not just more to one ear, but interacting with your HRTF in a very specific way and fooling your brain into thinking they’re right next to your head. Applications for horror games, stealth games, and live event broadcast all come to mind right away.
Finally, what would your advice be to someone who wanted to embark on a recording project that was similarly ambitious, either in the field of 3-D audio or another technique?
It’s been said hundreds of times in better ways than I can say it, but don’t be deterred by people telling you your idea is too ambitious or impractical or impossible: Just keep doing what interests and inspires you.
It’s been six years since Hot Hot Heat released Future Breeds. That record—the band’s fourth—was a return to form in many ways, but it also showcased a bolder and dirtier sonic direction for the Canadian act.
After parting ways with Sire Records, their home base since 2005, the group took greater control over their output, with frontman Steve Bays delving deeper into the art of recording, mixing, and producing.
Steve Bays of Hot Hot Heat in the Studio.
“I bought a bunch of recording equipment and taught myself how to engineer by reading Tape Op, Sound on Sound, and listening to a lot of Pensado’s Place,” he told me over the phone from his Vancouver studio.
Bays’ autodidactic efforts certainly paid off with Future Breeds. The band’s sound was redefined and more focused than ever. Following the release, Bays diverted his attention and newfound production talents elsewhere. He collaborated with Small Town Pistols, Diplo, Steve Aoki, We Are the City, Fitz & the Tantrums, Gay Nineties, and Mother Mother, to name a few.
Recently, the band surprised fans with the announcement of a new album—and by disclosing that, after nearly two decades together, Hot Hot Heat are calling it quits. But, before they go, the band’s new, previously shelved album is primed for release.
It’s bittersweet, for obvious reasons. The good news, however: Bays still has an itch for saturated and overdriven sounds, making this LP a wonderful follow-up to their last.
With a new release and busy schedule in place, Bays was kind enough to chat with SonicScoop about the self-titled record, his tried-and-true production techniques, and personal studio.
Hot Hot Heat’s self-titled farewell album has just come out.
Hi Steve. How are you today?
I’m great. I’m in the studio–mixing away.
What are you working on?
I’m working on Mounties, which is a side project of mine. I’m always in and out of mixing a track.
When you’re writing and recording, will you start mixing too?
Yeah, I’ll think from the mastering process backwards. Sometimes, I’ve released stuff that was written, recorded, and mixed all in the same day. Often I’ll spend way longer than that though.
I might listen to a song by The Flaming Lips, for example, and think, “Oh, I really like how this was mastered.” And I know you can’t master something that way unless the mix is delivered a certain way, and you can’t have the mix sound that way unless you’re choosing your instruments carefully.
Then there’s the arrangement as well. Certain mixes won’t allow for too many ideas [to be] recorded.
Right. Mixing is such a delicate process. When you’re mixing your own music, it can be really difficult to wrap your head around the song when you’re—quite literally—in the mix.
Totally. It’s weird. A lot of the records I like tend to be by bands that have at least one guy that’s really curious about mixing or producing.
I like those bands too. There’s something nice about having someone in the band that’s an integral part of the whole process. I feel like that often makes the music better.
I think so. All the records I listen to, there’s always that “attention to detail” element.
I’ve spent years in so many bands that sounded like shit once we recorded, but I know they were good bands. I used to be in three or four bands and we’d often break up after we recorded our first few songs.
It was mostly because we were always like, “That’s what we sound like? Back to the drawing board!” I didn’t really think too much about the recording process [back then].
I bet that happens a lot. As you know, you can’t expect to go into a studio and always sound amazing right off the bat.
With some bands, you can kind of plop them into a certain style. You can say, “Okay, pop punk is supposed to have this kind of kick drum, this kind of guitar sound, and this kind of bass sound.”
But I feel like these days music fans really want change. I guess we’re just exposed to a lot more music now, so once a sound is really defined, people don’t want to hear a ton more bands that sound exactly like that. Every band owes it themselves to experiment with production stuff.
Hot Hot Heat’s sound has definitely shifted in a few ways. Sonically, is this new album what you’ve always wanted the band to sound like?
Hot Hot Heat in the studio.
I don’t think I ever really knew what I wanted us to sound like, initially. I was too busy thinking about being a performer.
I never really considered myself a singer and I never considered myself a songwriter, and by the time I was forced to admit to myself that I was a singer, I had been singing for years. I don’t think I actually called myself a songwriter until after our third or fourth album was out.
But I’ve been very active with my gut and my instincts. I grew up in the punk scene where I was a show promoter and I was more concerned about putting on cool shows. I was really more into the community aspect of music—indie and punk rock—and even all the way up to being signed to a major label I’d refuse to admit to the formality of it all.
I didn’t even want to know record sales. I didn’t want to know how much money was being spent or being made. I really had my head in the sand and then one day a switch went off and I realized that I wanted to take control of a lot more. I wanted to be a lot more aware of what’s going on. In my head, I was this spastic punk rocker that happened to stumble into some pop songs, and then one day I just said, “No, actually I want to think about what I’m doing and enjoy the process.”
I don’t know if that really makes sense, but I didn’t really get into thinking about the sound of our albums until I had produced a bunch of other bands. In 2008, I went into the Warner Bros. office and we basically turned down a half million dollar advance and asked to leave the label. I bought a bunch of recording equipment and taught myself how to engineer by reading Tape Op, Sound on Sound, and listening to a lot of Pensado’s Place. I even Skyped with Dave Pensado himself.
I recorded our second to last album, Future Breeds, and that was really fun. Then, for this most recent album, we all said, “Okay, let’s do that kind of DIY approach to this album. Let’s make it a little bit less freaky and a bit more songwriting-based.”
I feel like Future Breeds was a nod at Make Up the Breakdown, which was quirky and weird and punk, and this most recent record is a little bit more of a combination of Make Up the Breakdown and Elevator, in that it’s leaning more on the songwriting.
When I spoke with Luke [Paquin] back when Future Breeds came out, he described that record as the loudest the band’s ever sounded. How else would you describe this new record?
I’d say it’s nostalgic, sentimental, and optimistic. It’s like parting ways with someone but not in a negative way—it’s more of an optimistic and exciting way where you’re beginning a new chapter.
Life moves in chapters and sometimes you don’t realize that something is the end of a chapter or the beginning of a chapter when you’re living it, but if you’re self-aware enough you can be aware of the fact that you’re starting a new chapter.
It’s exciting being in the middle of a transition. I’m excited about the unknown. That’s the unfortunate part about the way the music industry works. It’s very predictable when you’re in it and that’s not always what musicians crave.
A lot of bands are really excited on their first couple of albums because everything is new, but then you figure out how it all works.
I’m by no means complaining. I’m very grateful for the adventures we’ve had, but there is something to be said about constantly feeling novice and feeling like an amateur. The second I feel like I’ve wrapped my head around something I want to know what’s next.
That’s understandable. When you were recording the new album, did you already know that it was going to be the band’s final one?
No, what happened was we recorded it at my studio, the same way we did Future Breeds, but then the band started moving in different directions and craving different musical experiences with less expectations.
So we all started different side projects and one of those side projects for me was Mounties. We went into the studio and recorded a full record in two weeks. It was such a great experience. That was with Ryan Dahle, who has a studio two doors down from me.
I asked him to mix Future Breeds for me even though he wasn’t a mixer at the time and we spent eight months doing it but I just wanted it to be mixed by someone who wasn’t a dedicated mixer. I’ve worked with the Chris Lord-Alges of the world previously, and I was bored with doing the L.A. thing, so I brought Ryan in to mix Future Breeds.
Ryan and I ended up doing Mounties and that was such a great experience, so I said, “Okay, let’s take this Hot Hot Heat record, which we basically shelved, and let’s record this the same way we did the Mounties record.”
We used all of the same equipment, went to the same room, which is a bigger studio a couple of rooms down from my studio in Vancouver. We just set everything up and told everyone to learn the songs.
I think I had sheet music out and lyrics printed and everything. It was a very formal process but we recorded most of it in a week or two. It was cool to spend months just dicking around in my room with programs, beats, and trying all sorts of weird techniques for writing and then abandoning it and coming back six months or a year later and relearning it.
[W]e didn’t say out loud it was going to be the last record but it was felt at the time.
That makes sense. I imagine that impacted some of the writing.
Yeah, I think a lot of bands go through this phase where your whole life is your band for so many years and you tour and tour and tour non-stop, and then you come home and usually you’re depressed.
I think we all got home after ten years of touring and tried to establish normal lives. It was really disorienting. And trying to start the band again was equally disorienting. You come back and you feel like a big kid in suspended animation.
Right. Obviously touring makes a normal life somewhat difficult.
Yeah, and I don’t mean to put a negative spin on it because we’ve had such a great time, [but] it’s almost like you’re in suspended animation and then all of a sudden you realize, “Oh man, all our old friends that we expected to hang out with have either gotten married, moved to a new town, gotten jobs, changed their priorities and values, or they’ve died.”
But the theme with Hot Hot Heat has always been to see the good in everything. I’ve been very hyper-aware of darkness in the world and I always wanted to flip over rocks and see the fucked up things that were under them, but still find the beauty, optimism, excitement, and the passion of everything. I want to know what’s going on with everything, but I still want to fight to find the light.
Totally. Let’s talk about your studio a bit because it is absolutely gorgeous looking.
Oh wicked, thanks.
You mentioned that it’s in a commercial complex, but it almost looks like it could be the basement of a house.
Yeah, I wanted it to feel like [that].
It’s two floors and there are three rooms. There’s a big upstairs where I spend most of the time and it feels like I’m living above my parent’s garage or something like that.
But it’s [really] just in a big concrete building that was built by these three guys that had a label in Vancouver but also have a background in construction. They buy buildings and rent them out for musicians.
It’s a cool thing. I waited for years to be able to get into it and then I just made it my own space and haven’t left.
That’s really cool. And it took you a few years to get it to this point?
Well, I used to have a space in this office building but it was built in 1903 so it was all marble, concrete, brass, and thick wood.
I was able to have this studio in that building without bothering people because of the beautiful, old construction. Then I had to leave because a TV show took over the entire floor.
I managed to move into this place and it’s just cool to be around a bunch of different musicians. I’ve been making records out of here for years now and I like it a lot.
Are the studios in the music videos for “Kid Who Stays in the Picture” early iterations of this studio?
That was all filmed when I was in the old office building—it was a really big old building. The guy that built it, on the day they officially opened it for the public, threw himself down the giant spiral staircase that goes up a dozen floors.
Wow. Really?
Supposedly it’s haunted, which would explain a lot. I was vigilant about turning everything off because I’d get paranoid about fires and I didn’t want my hard drives to go up in a ball of flames, but then I’d come back in the mornings and everything would be turned on. It was the weirdest thing.
How strange.
I don’t believe in ghosts but it was bizarre.
I often think, when backing up my own hard drive, “what happens if there’s a fire?” I need to have a backup outside of my apartment and I need to have a backup in my apartment and then another backup in the cloud.
Yeah, you actually got me thinking about this now. I’m working on so many records all the time and I can’t afford to have everything disappear. A lot of what I have been working on lately is not in the cloud.
Well, Dropbox is $100 a year for 1TB, which is enough for a few sessions.
That’s pretty great.
Let’s talk about the studio some more—Where did you find that great upright piano?
I often think of pianos like umbrellas: you pick them up for free and give them away for free. I’ve given away multiple pianos and I’ve gotten them as well, but always free.
It’s so hard to get rid of pianos. The cost of moving them is a few hundred bucks and people are just dying to get rid of that cost. I’ve had multiple pianos, but this one I like because it’s a Hammond, which is weird. I’ve never seen a Hammond piano.
It took four guys to move it in. The sustain was really bad once I got it moved in here. So I just put thumbtacks on it and there’s something nice about having the thumbtacks because everyone that sits down can play the same thing they’ve played a million times on a bunch of different pianos and it sounds way more exciting.
We used it a lot on Future Breeds. It has a really bright and fast attack and then the sustain is instantly dead, which I love.
That’s awesome. So, the monitors you have, are the Focal Twin6 Be, right? I have the Solo6 Be myself.
Yeah, they loaned me the Solos while I was waiting for the Twin6 to arrive—they’re so similar.
I remember a friend of mine who works for Primacoustic, which is why I’ve got all these acoustic panels here, was like, “How can you handle working on NS10s? They’re so harsh on your ears. You must be exhausted by the end of the day.” I was like, “Come to think of it, I am.”
I’d get home and I couldn’t even watch TV. I was struggling to hear the TV even if it was turned up because my ears were clamped up. Then I heard the Focal speakers and it’s true that you can work at loud volumes and it’s still really pleasant.
I remember when I got them I put Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” up and I swear it was a tutorial on how to mix properly because you could even hear the reverb they were using.
It’s really amazing and eye-opening when you hear high quality speakers for the first time.
Totally. I can’t wait for the day when we all have Focals in our house instead of $20 mono Bluetooth speakers.
I’ve been trying to make stuff sound more centered in the mix lately. I love taking advantage of super wide stereo and love doing all of these stereo widening hip-hop tricks but then I’m constantly testing stuff on other speakers like in my car or on shitty Bluetooth speakers because people are still essentially listening in mono a lot.
I thought mono was dead but that’s not the case. If your mix relies on the stereo [field] for excitement, then it’s just not going to translate.
On the topic of stereo widening, are you using certain plugins to achieve that effect?
Yeah, and sometimes I’ll do it in the analog world as well.
Most of my mixes are a combination of running stuff through a bunch of outboard gear and then I’m totally fine with using lots of fun plugins.
I’ve got some analog choruses and I’ll print anything from a vocal to an entire drum kit, and I’ll pan that to the left side and then I’ll take a different chorus and I’ll pan that to the right and just blend that in to widen it. It gives it a bit of x-factor. But, when I don’t have the patience, I’ll use a Dimension D [plugin].
I have three different Roland choruses and then I have an old Ibanez chorus. It’s like a multi-mode analog delay outboard rack unit. It’s super cheap. We worked with Chris Walla from Death Cab for Cutie and he got us really stoked on this Ibanez outboard rack. It sounds really fun.
Chris Walla is a great mixer/producer—one of my favorites.
Yeah, I like that world of people that are DIY and punk rock but study the classic ways of doing things but also don’t give a fuck about “the right way.”
Totally. I know you are a self-professed classic keyboard addict. When did your interest in keyboards start?
Yeah! Paul from Hot Hot Heat, and I used to be in a band where I was the drummer and he was the guitar player. His dad, who was in a metal band at the time, had a bandmate that traded some Ibanez guitar or something ridiculous for a Juno because Paul saw that The Locust, a band from San Diego, had a Juno. So he traded with his dad’s metal buddy and he brought it to my house and was like, “Let’s start a band where I play drums and you play keyboard.” I was like, “But keyboards are so lame. There are no cool keyboard players…”
Anyway, somehow he convinced me. We were in so many bands that nobody gave a shit about but the second we did it with him on drums and me on the keyboard, we quickly started selling out clubs. It was such a nice change so we stuck with it.
A lot of the early Hot Hot Heat had kind of a prog rock, classical influence in the keyboard parts. Our bass player Dustin and I were obsessed with bands with really dirty bass, such as a band from Victoria called No Means No.
They ran their bass through an old ‘70s Marshall and it sounded so dirty and gross. It was kind of nice—the sound of this really poppy, chorusy keyboard with a really dirty bass and a drummer who grew up playing metal. I think those three elements produced a sound that at least nobody in our hometown was doing before.
Our first band fight was actually over the concept of adding a second keyboard. I remember I was so resentful that I instantly started collecting more keyboards. Then it was one of those things where I didn’t feel the need to collect them [anymore]. I would use whatever was in the studio.
So, for example, on Make Up the Breakdown, they happened to have a Hammond B3 in the studio, so I was like, “Okay, cool. I’ll just record the whole album with the Hammond.” It’s funny because the organ is such a big part of that album’s sound and it was really just an arbitrary decision.
There are only so many chord progressions and only so many ways to keep yourself excited about your own skills, especially when they are modest skills and not anything too special. When you get a new keyboard, it can be enough inspiration to make an entire record.
Did you get any new ones for this record?
It’s a blur of what I got between the Mounties record and the Hot Hot Heat record because we did both at the same time, but I got a Roland JX-3P, an ARP Odyssey, and this old Yamaha. It looks like an organ. It doesn’t even stay in tune but it has sounds like pulsar, and bunny is the name of one patch. It’s got trumpets, French horns, and saxophones. It’s the sound of an instrument that electronics are struggling to make work and I just love that.
How do you feel about software synths? Do you use any of those or are you not so into them?
Yeah, for sure. I’ve got so many soft synths. They’re great and not just for writing on, but also drawing in the MIDI. When I hear an album that’s made with soft synths, I’m not opposed to it. It’s all about how you use it really. I use a lot of this company TAL.
Yeah, TAL is great. Have you ever compared their Juno to your Juno?
Steve Bays.
I did! I’m scared to admit it because it’s my secret weapon.
I A/B’d it in Noble Street Studios in Toronto. We were all mic’d up and I wanted to use the TAL Juno for the arpeggiator feature. The problem with the real Juno is you can never get the arpeggiator synced quite right. It’s such a nightmare.
Anyway, I finally had everything setup side-by-side and I swear to God, the guys could not tell the difference. And if you combine it with going through a guitar amp, it’s really good. A lot of what makes soft synths sound like they’re soft synths is the fact that they’re quantized.
What is your favorite technique for humanizing parts? Will you go in one by one and move the notes a little bit?
Well, in Logic, there’s an actual humanize algorithm that cheats it.
I’m always adding chunks of human element whether it’s going out through an amp, or if it’s only quantizing the occasional thing, or I won’t quantize it and I’ll bounce it in place so it’s an audio file and I’ll edit it.
With some genres of music, it sounds good when everything is on the grid, but with other genres, the more things are misaligned the fatter it sounds. I think people are a little too trigger-happy with quantizing, but I’m not opposed to quantizing. I’m not opposed to any trick. It’s just lazy habits and not using your ear that can lead to boring music.
So tell us about The Warehouse Studio. You were there last year, right?
Yeah, I was there with Mounties recently and then I was there again the other day with Mother Mother. I end up there all the time because it’s down the street from my studio.
How do you like it there? It seems like a great place and the history behind it is pretty cool.
Yeah, it’s [got] great gear. I think Bryan Adams paid $2 million for the new console.
Most of the time I’d prefer to work in my own studio, but I still end up in other studios quite often because it’s nice to have someone else deal with the file management and setting up the headphone mixes.
I love being left-brained, but I love being an artist as well and just walking in and being creative and not having to divert my attention. When I’m in artist mode, it’s a totally different thing, so it’s nice having somebody else set things up.
I used to micromanage preamps and microphones, and sometimes I’ll still be that guy and oversee how everything is engineered, knowing I’m going to mix it. I’d rather commit to all of the EQ and compression, but these days I often won’t touch anything. I’ll just hire good people and let them do their thing.
For the Hot Hot Heat record, I had worked so much with Ryan Dahle that I just let him oversee the engineering of it. He’s such a great engineer so I was really hands–off with the engineering. I just came as an artist and he allowed me to be a weirdo.
Did Ryan also help with the mixing?
He mixed the last track on the album, but the rest I mixed myself. But I should give him partial credit because he would be in here every day and he’d be giving his two cents. He told me to take mixing credit for it but he definitely deserves credit for the way it turned out. Also, his mastering on it was a big part of the final sound.
With certain records, what’s on the stereo bus and what’s on the mastering is such a huge part of the album, and then with other records I’ve done for people, it’s all about mixing each individual instrument to sound the way you want it to sound.
I don’t want the stereo bus to mess with the mastering at all. I just produced and mixed this album for this band Gay Nineties, which is a side project of Parker [Bossley]’s who is also in Hot Hot Heat and the Mounties on bass, and at first I was mixing the whole album through a Shadow Hills box, and Burl Mothership for conversion, and it’s just so nice, big, and fat. But you have to be so precise with your levels. If something is a dB too quiet or too loud, it’s really noticeable.
Partway through the record, I switched to saying, “Fuck it, I’m going in the box. I’m going to hit the stereo bus super-hard and I’ve got the Studer tape, SSL, and Fairchild compressors.”
That way you can move in these big, broad sweeps and you can just crank the guitar up for a guitar solo and not really worry about it being perfect because the compression seems to be very forgiving. So if you’re willing to have a dirtier record that’s potentially a bit more distorted and more saturated, then it’s fun doing it that way.
I really enjoy the distortion and the crunchiness.
There are a lot of great records that sound like they’re almost destroyed. If you can pull it off, then it’s incredible. The first MGMT album is almost criminally distorted but they pulled it off and I think that’s why Dave Fridmann is worthy of idol status.
You should take one of his classes. He teaches sometimes.
Oh, really?
Yeah, I think he teaches at [SUNY] Fredonia. I wish there were more videos of him actually in the studio because I’ve looked and there are not enough. I think I’ve only seen one.
I know. There’s so little. I read a Sound on Sound interview with him once and that’s about it.
[Editors Note: Fridmann shared his insights in SonicScoop’s 2011 Platinum Engineers panel, which can be found here.]
The first Phoenix album is squashed so hard but still maintains these incredible low frequencies that you allow to stay in before you compress super hard.
The more you compress and the more you distort the more you have to be on top of EQ and I think that the fact that my ears have always enjoyed things that are really hotand overdriven has just led me to have to obsess over EQ.
That makes sense. What’s your vocal chain these days?
My vocal chain is a Pultec where I’m removing a lot of low end and high end.
I’ll take a vocal, re-record it, and run it out through a Pultec to remove harsh frequencies or ultra-lows that are even below 200 Hz, then I hit the Distressor and 1176, then two channels of the Fatso, and then I add frequencies back in.
It’s a lot of compression but I’ve always loved the sound.
Do you use this process only for Hot Hot Heat songs or for any vocalist you’re working with?
Everything is different, but traditionally that would be it. My chain would be a couple of EQs, then about four compressors, then another EQ, and usually a de-esser or two before the compression.
Do you see yourself producing, mixing, and recording forever?
It’s so hard to say because I change all the time. I did some songwriting for the new Fitz & the Tantrums album, which was fun. I sang on this Diplo song last year and that was about 45 minutes of work. That was easy. It was like a bottle of wine and a few minutes, and that did so much better than something I would’ve spent months on.
Time management-wise it makes sense for me to keep songwriting. Songwriting is probably my favorite thing to do, and performing is my favorite thing to do as well, but it’s very contingent on inspiration, whereas I do love something about mixing. I can show up and work by myself and have fun by myself and I don’t have to worry about relationships or managing the emotions of bands.
So co-writing more with other artists is something you could see yourself doing in the future?
Oh, totally. I like doing anything creative. I’ve co-written for probably a dozen bands in the last couple years. I’ve directed music videos—those are really fun—and I like editing them as well.
I like to keep switching it up because I never want to have to ask myself how good I am at any one thing. If you pick just one thing, you better be really good at it. I keep myself busy switching it up all the time so that I don’t really have time to let my inner demons question anything too much.
I think that’s the danger of working in arts for a living. Once it starts to feel like a job, then you’re playing with fire and it can damage the thing that is most important to you. That’s why I think it’s good to keep changing and evolving.
A lot of people get caught up in expectations. You can get a little bit of success and it’s like, “Oh, I should really just focus on that because I’m so lucky that lightning struck once and it’s never going to strike twice,” but I disagree with that.
I think you have to follow your childlike enthusiasm because at the end of the day you’re going to be the best at what you’re the most excited about.
It’s like when you’re a kid and you’re excited to just play with Lego for hours. You can have that feeling in your day job, but you have to be really in touch with when you’re damaging your inspiration versus when you’re nurturing it.
