You studied audio engineering in school, and you also came at it as a musician in the '70s. How did you hear of that degree plan?
I grew up in Compton. My family was musical. My oldest brother worked in an electronics store and he'd bring home gear to repair. At the age of three, I was already enjoying the comforting smells of vacuum tubes firing up. Somehow those are the things I resonated with. It's a lot to do with nature and nurture. My environment was supportive of that, even though I had no idea growing up if audio engineering was a thing one could do. Also, I was kind of wired for this; I think all of us are born to do something uniquely our own. As we discover what that thing is, and as you look back on your past and see what led up to it, then suddenly it comes into focus. I started in the television and film business as a kid extra at the age of eight. My brother and I were already working in the industry when we were eight years old, as the background kids. I was more fascinated with the process and the production – filming and the whole bit – as opposed to the acting. The acting was fun, but it wasn't fascinating.
You enjoyed being behind the scenes and seeing how it works?
Yes. The cameramen and boom operators would let me hang out with them. As it was being set up, they would explain to me what was going on. They'd say, "Okay, cue the kids," and I'd have to say, "Oh shoot, I gotta leave. Can I come back?" That directed me towards studying film in high school, which we could do back then. Also, my boyfriend was in a band, and his guitar player had become a recording engineer for one of the famous performers and members of the Wrecking Crew, a session player and producer named Leon Russell. He'd written many famous songs, and he was quite popular at that time. I was very excited when Roger [Linn] invited me to come to Leon's home studio, which nobody had back then because the technology was such that it took up a lot of real estate. It was very expensive, and it was a huge commitment. He was making great records there, working with all sorts of wonderful people. I hot-tailed it over there after school that day. I'd never been in a recording studio before. I rang the doorbell, and Leon answered, which was enormous. I assumed his staff would answer. He said, "Oh, you must be Roger's friend. Come on in!" I walked in and I heard all this great music going. After I almost fainted from seeing Leon, I heard 21 voices of background singing, and I looked to my right – where a dining room was supposed to be – that was this control room. I went in, and Roger was sitting at a console with monitors, outboard gear, and a Stephens [Electronics] 40-track tape machine. These voices were singing, and it was like the angels! I had my epiphany. I said, "I know now what it is that I'm supposed to be doing. Roger, show me how to work this." The next day I dropped out of university film school and scoured the yellow pages to find a recording school, because they did not exist. It was very rare back then. I found this one at Sherwood Oaks Experimental College. It was mostly a lecture situation, but I signed up that same day and then went home and told my parents what I'd done. Fortunately, I had their support.
After you went to the audio engineering school, how did you make inroads with Village Recorders?
There were a lot of recording studios back in the '70s. I knew that I wanted to work in the best place, with the best producers, the best engineers, and the best gear with the best musicians and the best music. I wanted that experience. Because you could have all those "other" experiences after that. Brian Ingoldsby had been an engineer on a lot of records. He started this school called Sound Master [Recording Engineer School], and I was in the first class. A lot of good engineers came out of that school back then. They mostly had lectures; there was no actual facility that had studios and gear, so when we would have our labs we would go to a proper studio, like Capitol [Studios, Tape Op #114] or Conway [Recording Studios]. Real studios with real equipment. I panicked; I didn't know what they were talking about. I called Roger over at Leon's and said, "I don't know what to do! I don't know what they're talking about." The next day he started showing me. The first night [of school] it was me and 50 guys. Of course, I'm sitting in the front row. I have three brothers and grew up around lots of guys, so I always felt comfortable with that. I did not know this was something women didn't do.
We both have been lucky to have been around encouraging men. Every guy in audio who I hang out with or know has done nothing but encourage me in my learning, loaning me gear, loaning me books, and telling me about resources. I do recognize that it's not everybody's experience. But thank goodness that there are all those awesome guys out there helping.
Exactly. That was the thing. Our interest was genuine. We were authentic. I've taught quite a bit, and those students who are genuinely interested for the right reasons, I can't help but be drawn to them and want to show them more. I know that they really want to learn. You always want to give them that information. You have to be compelling and give them proper information. My methodology was that I was teaching these kids and giving them information so that they could work for me. I knew if I walked into a studio and saw one of my former students I could relax, because I knew that they had my back. That's what I told them when I walked in. The main class I taught was Studio Protocols and Procedures, which was about who the people are in the studio and who the people are on the production team; all their responsibilities and how important they all are to create this audio success.
We have talked a little bit about what we both believe is the secret to success: Your character, your integrity, your personality, and your work ethic.
Yeah. Your social skills, as well as understanding the fact that this is a business, and that it's also a service-oriented business. You're providing a service to your client. They can go to any studio they want, based on their budget. You need to make them happy to be working with you. Also, to make them feel appreciated and that their needs are met.
I recently had this conversation with one of the Omni teachers. She's been a mix engineer for a long time, but the 15 years she spent in hospitality as a hotel manager gives her an edge.
Exactly! I also taught production sound, post-production and mixing, and how to record a band. Three different courses. But the most important one that all my students came back to later, when I would see them, they said the class on Studio Protocols and Procedures was so much more important than any of the other classes, as far as working with clients. How do you work with artists? How do you move up? What is your position if you start as an intern, or if you're an assistant, or the studio manager, if you're an engineer, or if you're the producer? All of these.
A lot of young people talk about imposter syndrome.
I was an assistant engineer, so I didn't feel like an imposter because the whole point was learning and assisting others so I could learn from them.
You assisted with bands like Steely Dan, Supertramp, and Fleetwood Mac, and you were in the lead role with Blondie, The Knack, and Suzi Quatro. You got to see the overlap of two pretty epic music periods.
What happened with me was I fulfilled that goal requirement that I had set for myself by working at The Village. I was not only going to Leon Russell's house on my days off, practicing what I had learned the night before, but I was also creating relationships with other musicians and other engineers. I was deliberately looking for opportunities to go and hang out in other studios, because I knew musicians and when they were recording. Their engineers would say, "Well, you can come and sit in with me." One of the first sit-ins was at a studio where my good friend Ed Thacker was engineering with Ken Scott [Tape Op #52] at Le Chateau [Recorders] for Stanley Clarke. This was an iconic record [School Days] with an iconic producer. I was so young that I didn't appreciate what a phenomenal opportunity that was, but I sat there and listened. I had no idea what a lot of things were. I made sure that I took advantage of any opportunities that came up. I would show up, sit there, be a fly on the wall, keep my trap shut, and soak it in, whether I understood what was going on or not. I knew that someday it would all make sense, and it did. I already had picked up a lot of techniques and had created relationships that served me, and still do, all throughout my career. It's not only the people you know, but the people who remember you.
I'm going to ask you my favorite question, which is: What is the project no one asks you about that you wish people asked you about?
I worked on The Last Waltz with The Band. They were incredible; I was a huge fan of The Band. This was their last performance. I was a newbie. I started [working] on August 22, 1976. I was real green; I was assisting assistants. They didn't really have interns then. By the time The Last Waltz happened, which took place on Thanksgiving, I had already worked with the producer, Rob Fraboni, on other projects. He used to be with The Beach Boys and had [mixed] their famous song, "Sail on Sailor." I was assisting his assistant, Terry Becker; another woman. There were four female assistants at The Village and two guys; I had no other point of reference. Certainly, women did this. "Look at all these women!" I never felt I had to walk into a room and feel uncomfortable or intimidated by these men. "Anybody does this. I'm an assistant engineer. It doesn't matter."
L.A. was certainly ahead of that curve I'm sure, so it's good to see that happening in other studios finally.
Well, it is a lot better. It certainly is a lot better than it was. But back then, that was extraordinary; and you're right, it still is extraordinary.
Going back to The Last Waltz...
I was just getting my assistant legs down. As an assistant, they assign you to whatever projects they need an assistant on, and they feel you are appropriate for. The studio manager who does that has to have her or his finger on what's going on with these different people, like who are the assistants, and who would be a good fit with whatever project. It's about the personalities, the social skills, and what would work out well – if it was jazz, if it was Americana, or hard rock – whatever it was. I did a lot of R&B sessions. I got to work on the original "Car Wash" [Rose Royce] at The Village, which was really great. What was special about [The Last Waltz] was that it was a live recording, but if you watch the film, they also had some studio songs. One with Emmylou Harris, one with The Staple Singers, and the last song, "Theme From The Last Waltz," were all done on a soundstage. Those needed to be mixed separately. Also, it was a part of the soundtrack for the film The Last Waltz. So, it was multifaceted. It wasn't just a band recording a song; you record it, mix it, master it, and it goes out and sells as a record. Martin Scorsese produced [and directed] the film. There were deadlines, so there was a lot of pressure. That was quite a learning experience. I had hands-on on a song called "Evangeline" with Emmylou Harris. They had been working so long, and the deadlines were coming up. It was three in the morning, and this song [needed] to be mixed. Robbie Robertson and Rob Fraboni were so tired. They'd been up for so long that they were shaking. They couldn't do it. I was the assistant engineer, and that mix had to be on the dub stage at 8 a.m. with Scorsese, and it was 3:30 in the morning.
