You had an accident when you were young that affected your throat, and you couldn't talk for two years?
Yeah, that's right. In general, I think people take talking for granted and forget the importance of silence for so many facets of their growth and life. Whether you call it a blessing or a curse, it was given to me. I learned how to listen to the way things sound and how sounds are put together, but also how to listen to people and what they're actually saying.
You were a teenager then, right?
Yeah. I remember my friends would take me to game rooms, put quarters in the jukebox, and play pool. I couldn't talk, but I'd listen and play. It was fun for me, even though I couldn't speak.
How were you interacting socially at that time, as far as communication?
Well, I didn't have a lot to say. When you break it down, you only have to say, "I'm hungry," and "I have to go to the bathroom." I learned to not have an opinion about where we'd eat or where we'd go.
So much of what we have to do in the studio is to listen to music and to what others are saying.
Even now, I have to force myself to keep my mouth shut. It's a challenge.
Amazingly, after many operations, you got your voice back. You started doing music and playing as a songwriter and a singer, with a voice that's limited. What were the circumstances?
It was a weird situation. My doctor publicly said that it was a miracle that I could talk, so I started getting these calls from churches saying, "We heard that God did a miracle in your life. Can you come tell us about it?" They would ask if I'd sing a song, and it developed into a career of playing. I performed at a lot of colleges, high schools, and youth camps. Through the process of doing that, >I made my own records and sold them. I didn't know much about the industry. I ended up recording to MIDI, printing that to a DAT [digital audio tape], and then going into the studio and recording my vocals and guitar on top of it. I made my own tracks and sang on top of them. I had an [Akai] MPC60 that I used quite a bit; I loved the old soul and "Motown" drum loops. I incorporated those with my acoustic guitar. Eventually I put in a little studio booth and had a place in my garage that I worked out of.
Did other people start seeking you out to record with?
Yeah. After a show, people would come up and ask how I got started. Occasionally they'd ask me to help them do a record. I didn't take long to realize that it's really where I enjoyed the music; in the making of it. Less of the performance, and more, "Let's figure out how to make this song better and get it down on tape."
What was your later studio like?
I had ADATs and a 32-channel Mackie board. I often threatened that if I had that console and 12 [Shure SM]57s I could make a record.
You slowly taught yourself how to engineer?
To call myself an engineer is a stretch. I can get good sounds, but there are so many great engineers in this town who know why the gear works, not just how the gear works. I don't claim to be that at all. For producing, I come from more of a musical background. I have a knack for melody and arrangement. I've grown into my engineer ears as I continue to grow into the production part. I'm always learning something.
One of the projects you were known for early on was Jars of Clay. How did you first meet those guys?
I didn't actually meet them until I moved to Nashville. I believe one of them went to one of those youth camps that I was playing at, saw me, and bought one of my records. Later, in Nashville, we were at the same church and started having lunch together. We hit it off pretty quickly, and they started asking me to do these one-off songs for endorsement deals or little things that weren't part of a record; just a single song. That morphed into doing a record with them. Steve Mason [guitar] from Jars had an unfinished basement, and I had a bunch of gear. I helped him finish out his basement, brought my gear over, and we started making music. We called it Sputnik Sound. That's where we did The Eleventh Hour, which happened to win a Grammy. You never think when you're tracking something that it's going to be Grammy-worthy.
What do you think were some of the factors that made that record worthy of a Grammy?
Great songs and great talent. Vance Powell was at the helm most of the time. I was the second engineer; I filled in a couple of times for him. That's when Blackbird Studios was being built, so Vance was going over there and working a lot.
What did that lead to for you?
I think I quickly learned how to make records fast, because those guys work really fast. They have short attention spans. If they come up with an idea, you've got to be able to get something down really quickly or else it's gone. Doing that led to another record with them, and then another. Just having my name on all these records, people started calling me up and asking me to help them. I'm very fortunate to have worked with Jars of Clay. They helped me carve out a career, and I'm very thankful.
Did you continue to run Sputnik Sound out of there for a number of years?
Yeah. I worked out of that basement for a good bit. Eventually they had to sell their house, so I took the gear and moved into House of Blues Studios with Jacquire King [Tape Op #88]. We were partners together for two or three years. Then Vance got the itch to find his own place, and Jacquire was moving out.
So, Vance moved in?
Yeah. It's always challenging renting a place and having a landlord. After renting for 11 years, it was like, "What am I doing with my money?" I found the opportunity to buy something of my own, and I had Vance jump in on it with me.
How long did this place take to build out?
About nine months. Vance and I have always been really great about taking a normal, existing building and turning it into something that's actually workable as a studio. It's fun working so closely with Vance. Even though there's some genre overlap, there's definitely a difference in our production styles. There have been records that have come through that Vance has been like, "You need to work with Mitch on this," and vice versa. I appreciate that relationship. It's been really easy. I'm not as strong a personality as Vance or someone like that. I'm okay with that; I'm quiet… doing my own thing and keep my nose to the grindstone. I'm just trying to keep my clients happy.
Your tracking rooms are as far away from each other as they could possibly be.
It is intentional. We tried to separate the foundation of what we built on his side. Even since we've been here, we've had to tear down some walls and pack in rock wool. If Vance is tracking, especially in the hallway or close, I can hear it in my control room. Luckily, I can't hear it in my tracking room; it doesn't bleed into my tracks.
