Looking back, it seems like I've always been recording something. When I was very young there were a pair of small Sony reel-to-reel recorders floating around our house — previously used by my parents to send audio letters back and forth while my Merchant Marine father was at sea. I soon found myself recording snippets of my favorite TV shows and making silly sounds on these decks. When cassette recorders became the norm, I was constantly making tapes of borrowed LPs to listen to in my room (and later in my car). Soon I bought some cheap Radio Shack mics and started recording my friends playing music, plus my own weird electronic compositions.
When 4-track cassette recorders came around, I'd already spent many years creating reduction mixes from cassette deck to cassette deck. My family and friends pitched in and bought me a Yamaha 4- track one Christmas, and immediately I was tracking my band's demos and collaborating with friends. I'd already been in the studio a couple of times at that point, guiding our band through sessions for a few self-released albums. I loved spending time in the studio, as the concepts of overdubbing, using effects, and looking for the best takes were already ingrained in me.
By the time I left California for Portland in 1993, I was actually trying to get out of the music world. But I soon found myself building a practice room in my basement, and when my pal, Dewey, dropped off a couple of TEAC 4-track, reel-to-reel tape decks his uncle had given him, I added a window into one of the walls. A ramshackle home studio was born.
But gear is only one small part of the equation of recording music. Knowing how to utilize the equipment properly is far more important. Learning mic'ing techniques, understanding acoustics, and respecting gain structure really do matter. I soon found myself borrowing every book on recording from the library, and purchasing even more books and magazines downtown at Powell's Books. Although I would learn some things from the magazines I picked up, I'd always wonder why they never talked about the world of recording that I (and many of my friends) lived in:
Where small studios were not just glorified hobby rooms, but places where less-commercial music was being captured by people with sympathetic ears. Where musicians recorded themselves because it was part of the creative process, not because they "couldn't afford studios." Where older, used equipment was far more common than brand-new gear. Where the newest technology trends in recording were viewed with suspicion, as we'd been burned already by harsh digital reverbs and unreliable ADAT recorders.