How did you end up working at Power Station?
I was in a band in Indiana, and through that we met Tony Bongiovi, who owned Power Station and also produced some of the early Bon Jovi, as well as an early Star Wars thing [MECO's disco version of "Star Wars Theme/Cantina Band"]. We didn't know any producers where we grew up. He owned, arguably, the best studio in the world at that time. I was a musician graduating college, and I applied for a job there, still thinking that I wanted to be a musician. But I thought, "You know, New York is the place to be." I got the call and I was almost like, "I was just kidding." [laughter] I wasn't expecting to get that phone call. I went out and had a quick interview. I'd never been to New York before; it was eye-opening. What a left turn in life, to go from cornfields to the city!
What year was that?
1986. It was a big contrast. The pay was pretty poor; probably much like today. Back then there weren't that many opportunities in music. A thousand people would do it for free, or kill to get that job. I was thrilled to get it. I had to hang onto it, because things were tough and their clients were huge. If you weren't doing your job, or if there were any mistakes, you were gone pretty quick.
Did you have engineering chops before heading out to New York?
No. I studied Music Theory at Ball State University in Indiana. I was always the guy who would get a long guitar cable and walk out into the audience for soundcheck. I would badger the sound guy.
Was Power Station doing the "no real lockouts" deal?
If you wanted to pay for a lockout, you could; but was expensive. Otherwise, there might be a daytime session from 10 to 6, or 10 to 7. We would tear down, tracking setup and all. Then someone else would be up and running by 8 p.m., tracking or getting sounds. There was not much turnover time. The next morning we'd have to recall everything. Measuring mics and consoles. We didn't have digital cameras back then. We were writing on sheets. If you had the night session that ended at eight in the morning, we'd be dead tired trying to document all of that. But people expected it to come back pretty close, and somehow we did. Their clientele was humungous. When I walked in the door, there was Paul McCartney, Cyndi Lauper, Billy Joel, Peter Gabriel [Tape Op #63], and David Bowie. Duran Duran had been recording many of their hits there. It was a great place to land. I got to work on a lot of cool records, like Billy Squier, Bob Mould, and three Eric Clapton albums. I worked with a producer named Russ Titelman. After a certain point, he took me on as his main guy. I started as an assistant engineer, and eventually ended up in the driver's seat for many records.
Did Russ like using that studio?
That was home-base for that era of his career, and that's how we got paired up together. We'd go other places. We might go overdub, and not be in a Power Station room, but that was home-base for him and I. If you were a graduate of Power Station, it had something to it. People would book you. I was the last to go through that. It was neat how they did it. Whoever got hired before you was who you answered to; he answered to the guy right above him, and the guy at the top was thumping, and then it would come all the way down. It kept everybody in order, because the guy above me would get in trouble if my shit wasn't getting done.
Everybody policed each other! [laughter] Who was the person that you worked under, initially?
I worked under Alex Haas and Dave O'Donnell. Dave's had a nice, long career. He's worked a lot with James Taylor and Eric Clapton. But both were great friends and mentors to me. They weren't that much older than me, but they'd gotten there a couple years before and had already launched as engineers. I'd also worked a tiny bit behind [Bob] Clearmountain [Tape Op #84]. He's absolutely amazing, and a gentleman. He, Neil Dorfsman, and some of those original Power Station guys really hit it out of the park.
Was Tony Bongiovi doing sessions at that point?
He always had a pet project or two, but he wasn't in there much. The rooms were really busy, so I think it was probably hard to get in there with a side project or a development project. He had a condo built on top of the building. Power Station is built in an old Con [Consolidated] Edison building. When I moved to New York City, I slept in his electrical closet for two years! There was a washer/dryer and a massive electrical fuse box. It wasn't exactly quiet! But it was what I could afford, and he was gracious enough to let me live there.
What inspired you to move to Nashville?
I'd worked with Meatloaf off and on in New York. He'd done a lot at Power Station with Jim Steinman, an amazing composer, producer, and songwriter. Somehow I got involved a little bit, and eventually I was in the driver's seat. I did some tracking and mixing. He did a Meatloaf Live at The Beacon Theater DVD. He was on tour, so he flew me over to London interview and photos by Larry Crane intro by Gus Berry to fix some vocals and mix it. I mixed it at Metropolis Studios, and that was great. What a beautiful studio! On the last day, I flew home, changed suitcases, was home for two hours, and then flew to Nashville to marry the audio with the video for a company called Picture Vision, which is still around. The video's two producers, John Small and Tom Forrest, lived here. They were former New Yorkers that had made the jump. None of it was what I expected. I thought people would be sitting around in flannel on bales of hay. They were gentlemen, super professional, and the studios looked great. It changed my opinion. Then I got a call from Bad Company's manager. He said, "Hey, we're thinking about doing another Bad Company album." I love that band; they are the funniest humans I've ever been around. We'd made an album at The Manor [Studio], Richard Branson's manor, for four months. What a spoiled American I was. We had a chef, and we had a lot of fun! I thought I'd be going back to Europe, but he said, "We'll be making it in Nashville." Something rang in my brain. I thought, "That's my sign." I knew I wanted to have kids, and New York was never my dream place to live. I loved it when I was young, but it's a hard city to live in. I started the record [Stories Told & Untold], and bought a house about a month after I moved here without ever looking back. I thought I'd have to go back and forth to make a living, but I got really busy here. I came in from the side and I wasn't trying to get country clients. I wasn't trying to get the work other people were trying to get. I did Lynyrd Skynyrd [Twenty] right after that. Again, I wasn't infringing on anybody's territory, so it allowed me to get settled here.
1996. It's hard to believe, because I feel like I just got out of college!
When you started doing the country sessions, did it seem really different compared to your other sessions?
You learn quick, or you die. [laughter] I remember one session I did, the songwriter came in and was really put out that we weren't rolling yet. It was his money, but he had another session to go to. I did learn that there was an expectation for me. I am the one to wrangle everyone together. There's a responsibility and leadership to getting that together. But there's a learning curve, and things are done a little bit differently here. One drummer wanted me to use triggers, and I didn't want to use them; I wanted to use what I'd learned at Power Station. Something must work, because I've kept busy and I was doing something a little bit different. I didn't change the world, but people were interested that I took care in drum sounds. I had a slightly different thing, and maybe it benefitted me.
How early did you get into Pro Tools?
I don't really remember the year, but I was doing a Michael McDonald record. I think I've been involved on five of his records. I'd done a record with him at Warner Bros., in New York. Then he'd moved here [Nashville] in that time afterwards. He graciously hired me. We started with a 24-track. Then it was 48- track, and it kept growing. We needed horns and more. It wasn't working in a smaller, personal studio. I said, "We need to get a Pro Tools system in here." With it came an operator, who was making pretty good money per day. After we got going, I noticed a lot of the conversation was around me, as they talked to the Pro Tools guy! I realized, "I'm going to be a dinosaur. That's going to be a big part of the job." I did hear of some big-name engineers who thought it was a completely different thing, and they suffered for it. They got in eight to ten years later.
In the higher-end studios for a while, they'd have a Pro Tools operator, an engineer, and an assistant.
I'm lucky I get the occasional big major label jobs, but I've always gotten the mid-level and independent sessions of great music that I would never turn away. I've got to make their budgets work. When I saw an opportunity where I could retain some of that work in the middle, particularly on things I was developing – without spending money on someone else's studio costs – Pro Tools made a lot of sense to me. I didn't understand it completely, but I dove in and bought a system. Now I am many systems in, as I'm sure you are too at your studio. My first Mac monitor was $2499 for a 23-inch screen. Now for $300 or $400 you can have a 40-inch, massive screen. I mixed in Pro Tools for years. I may have been early in it here [Nashville], and it may have benefitted me. I have far from cracked the code for doing it. But, again, someone could afford me who may not be able to afford Blackbird Studios. Having a great setup, and a place to mix, has helped me to develop, stay alive, and do things that I love.
You have a suite at your house?
Yes, I have a room I've mixed out of. I actually had a room up here in Ocean Way for three or four years on the second floor. It was very small, but I mixed a fair amount up there. Then I bought this old farmhouse and put a little room in. It was hard. I've got kids. I'd take them to school, get ready, and run downtown to work. Now I'm coming right downstairs to work at home. If I take them to school at 7 a.m., I can be working at 7:10, getting so much more done, and being a better dad. But without the clock ticking with a commercial studio, I spend way too much time on my mixes! I wish I was one of those guys who's like, "Yeah, I did that in six hours." There have been a few of those, but there haven't been many. [laughter] I want to please me, and obviously my clients.
What are some of the details that go past the six-hour mark on a song?
I don't know. I don't look at a clock. I used to worry myself silly in a commercial studio, and I got a lot more creative when I stopped worrying about it. With mixing, I like space. It's like landscaping; creating events, and seeing things inside of what is going around. I work really hard to build those spaces. I always hope that, in whatever form it comes out, that some of that is preserved. I notice when I start tapping my foot or moving my body, it's like, "Oh, I'm actually liking this." I'm not even aware of it, but when I finally start moving and grooving, I know we're finally getting somewhere. I think once that mechanical pressure is off, that is when I get a little more creative. Because a song is architecturally built, as opposed to mixed. That's when it gets fun to me. We're in a world now where there are over-the-top echo tricks, but I like really subtle ones. I don't like it to be too tacky or distracting.
Just to open a section up? Or make a vocal feel more important?
Yeah. I hope they are subtle and tasteful. That's what I work towards. Sometimes I feel like the deliberate ones do more harm than good.
Save those for the Pink Floyd records!
Yeah. [laughter] Generally, if I'm happy with it so is the client. It's very different from, "Well, your eight hours are up, and that's what you get for eight hours." That leads to disappointed clients.
I try to figure out what the line to draw is.
Well, it's tough because it can end up eating into my family time. Or normal people, who have hobbies! I'm not sure mixers do.
Someone asked me that the other day and I said, "Eating."
Yeah, eating at the console! [laughter] That's passion I always find time for! That started in New York; there were so many good restaurants around there. It was an education on every level moving out there. We didn't get paid well; we could barely eat off the budget end of a Chinese menu. One time I was walking through David Bowie's lounge, straightening up, and he said, "Mate, are you hungry?" I said, "Oh, I'm good." I tried to bow out of it. But he was so gracious. He said, "Mate, I've ordered too much Japanese food. Sit down and have a meal with me." And I did. What a nice man he was! And super talented. That was the first time I'd had Japanese food, or sushi.
With David Bowie?
Yes, and what an education! Good food was taught to me by a great artist, and I felt really lucky. I've found the great artists tended to be great humans. There's a reason they've had the success they've had. Yes, their lives are different than ours; they have to get on a bus, or fly away after the album is done. But when you get people in the studio, they really open up to you; it's a safe zone for them too. I've always been protective about that information, and I tell people that work for me too that this is a sacred zone. If people open up, or get vulnerable, that stays in here.
You've had long acquaintances and working relationships with people like Billy Squier and Lynyrd Skynyrd, right?
Yeah, I love the Billy Squier music I got to work on. Being young at the time, that was just good rock 'n' roll. Great licks and great guitar. We spent loads of time [together]. It was weird moving from New York to here, because at 10 a.m. in Nashville you start recording. You have sounds. But at 10 at night, you might still be working on drum sounds for the next day. You can't do that anymore, but back when we had big budgets, we'd spend tons. When we had Billy Squier, I remember starting out as the assistant. These guys were telling me to move a mic a quarter of an inch. I was like, "At some point, there is no difference!" We did that for hours, maybe days, but it was great. The Skynyrd's have been great to me. I started my first project with them in '96, which doesn't seem that long ago. Of course, I wasn't there for "Sweet Home Alabama," "Free Bird," and "Simple Man."
