I found a fun news video from your SARM era in the '80s; the duo was called Act.
Oh, yeah.
You had MIDI running, and everything was sequenced and coming through the console from samplers and synthesizers. That was a great snapshot of you in that time, where you're saying, "Look, we can change anything. This is how records are being made now." What caused you to dive in and embrace new technology in the early '80s?
When computers first became affordable, there was a guy in the U.K. called Clive Sinclair. He made this computer called the ZX80. It was really small, with one of those keyboards where you press the membrane.
Oh, yeah. Little bubble tops?
Yeah, that's it. It had no RAM, no hard drive, nothing. But I was intrigued by it, and I programmed something; a game from a magazine. I copied the code into it, and it worked! I thought, "This is remarkable." I backed it up onto a cassette, and then loaded it up. I was always intrigued by the idea, the concept, of computing, because it was fascinating. This is all aside from being a musician; a parallel interest. When I started working at SARM, I can't quite remember why, but Trevor Horn bought a Synclavier [sampler]. For a few months it sat in the room. Every time we moved, it moved with us, and it was a huge rack!
Right, it wasn't small!
No, it was over 20U [rack spaces high] and obviously needed two people, up and down the stairs, from the studio upstairs to the studio downstairs. It had a big keyboard. We'd be plugging the rack up and nobody used it. One day I said to him, "Look, why don't I see if I can get a noise out of this?" It became a quest. I ended up using it. I could say "programmer," but I'm not really a programmer. But that's sort of what I had to be to get what was in my head out of the machine. I hated it, absolutely hated it. But it was there. Then I found, as it got easier, it was such a great, convenient, spontaneous way to make music using this technology.
Right. To be able to control from sequencing and MIDI.
Not to replace musicians, but to have an idea and to realize it by using a computer. That's what drew Frank Zappa to the whole idea as well; being able to have an idea and realize it exactly how you imagine it.
Right. He was doing quite a bit with that.
Yeah, big time.
That's an interesting parallel to your production and engineering; being a musician and songwriter. That instant idea, or quicker creation of sounds, would make sense to me.
Actually, yes. But funnily enough, that gear is a curse when it comes to writing. I am guiltier than most, because I can't sing. I can help with top lines, so I'll come up with an idea, and generally that will be created by a soft synth. I'll hold a note. "Oh, I like that." That will inspire me to do something; I don't know what it is. We call it writing. I don't know. What I'm saying is the gear is responsible for me not picking up a guitar and playing or coming up with a tune on the guitar. It's a bit of a curse, I would say.
Yeah. This was a fascinating time, where there were engineers, musicians, and producers who were pushing back against the way that records had been made. Now look where we are, where we're assembling samples, loops, and bits and bobs and making a song.
Yeah. Now this is completely open for debate, and please strike me down when I say this, but from that era to now, it seems to me that the only progress we've had is smaller, faster, and cheaper. That's it. I don't know what else there's been. If you think about it, technology leads the arts. This gear, a laptop, can be in the hands of anyone, hence four bars that repeat and get louder and softer. I get it. I'm as guilty as anyone, I'm sure. We are the consequence of that, maybe.
Yeah. But any time the technology leads the way, there are people who don't take advantage of it in a creative way and do something very simple and uninteresting. Then there are people like you and Trevor Horn and such who take it and go, "How can I make this compelling, emotional, and musical?"
Yeah, there's a saying for it, "The tail wagging the dog." The gear is there to be used, but not to command anything, one would hope. Of course, I contradicted that by saying how I'm writing now. I've just done an album with some people, and my job was to come up with the tracks. That's how I came up with the tracks; by getting a noise. The technology, the gear, did lead me into the writing mode, but that's what it is. Ideally the gear should serve us and not need us, I would like to think.
Yeah. But when you stumble across an accidental sample, synth patch, or a loop, that's only going to happen because of advances in technology.
Yeah, of course. You're absolutely right.
Recognizing those moments and looking back, I went and listened to Annie Lennox's Diva, and I thought, "Damn! It still sounds great!"
Yeah, but the technology didn't lead it. We used it, but it didn't lead it. Annie would sit with a keyboard, write the songs, and notate what she was coming up with.
A lot of times these days people are expecting recording gear to do more for them than it really does. To impart some kind of "magic" to the audio.
Yeah, of course. It's that thing, isn't it? We want it to sound like the '60s or the '70s. There was an artist who I spoke to the other day who wanted me to work on her record. She kept using the word "analog." I was very quiet, and then I said, "Before we decide to jump into this, I've got to tell you I hate analog!" She said, "What do you mean?" I said, "I can't tell you how long I've only been inside Pro Tools. I don't use analog gear. I don't like it anymore." She got back to my manager and said, "Can you find someone else who's into analog gear?" I thought, "This is amazing! Talk about missing the point."
They're coming to you because they like the sound of a record you've made.
You'd think.
It's like saying that the only way you're going to make a good record is to use this magical equipment, and none of what they liked about these albums came from you.
"It's going to make the difference."
Coaching somebody through a great vocal is far more important than putting it to tape.
Well, on a scale of 1 to 100, using tape wouldn't even touch 1 for me. It makes no difference. The only difference it makes is that it's much harder, more expensive, super inconvenient, and noisy. Apart from that, the sound difference doesn't bother me.
How do you proceed on a session with collaborating with someone these days?
I'm currently working with a Canadian artist in Toronto. She works with a programmer/engineer/producer guy who's really good. They'll send me a track, and I will give them feedback. It might be very little. It might be, "Start again." That's what will happen; it suits me fine. The only downside is the time it takes, and also getting an idea across isn't so simple. When you're in the room, you can be vague but still get your point across. Sometimes I'm pretty vague. Like, "It's not hitting me. I don't know, maybe you've got the wrong harmony." Or, "The rhythm isn't right here. I can't give you specifics." But if you're in the room with someone, you can say, "Well, how about this?" Or, "No, that's not right." There's a flow.
Right, definitely.
Otherwise, I like it. I do a lot of film work at the moment; that's been remote for a while.
With the film mixing for Hans Zimmer and others, what's the process?
Okay, so it's hard to explain. Every situation's different. I'm not going to specify a movie, but let's say Hans has asked me to work on a movie – several of which I've ended up with a score "Produced By" credit, but also several have just said "Mixed By." I'm never quite sure what the difference is. I get what's called a synth master. Now what a synth master is, is it's a cue. You know what a cue is?
Yeah, a piece of music written for a spot in the film.
For a scene. I'll get a synth master of a cue, which could be two tracks or a thousand, depending. It could be five seconds long or 15 minutes. Often scores are hybrids now. They're synth-based with a fake orchestra, hopefully with a real orchestra thrown on top at the end. That's the pattern of a lot of scores.
Yeah, we hear that a lot.
A synth master is everything apart from the real orchestra. Let's say I've got six weeks. Sometimes a lot more, sometimes a lot less. In those six weeks, I'll be getting these cues through. I'll have a template. The template is a key item, one I can spend a week figuring out for each movie. When these cues come in, they have a sound palette. I'll know what sounds they're going to use, so it's all split into stems with reverbs, delays, and whatever. Ready for action, so this audio can be dragged into the template. Ideally, and often, I have an assistant who deals with that for me. I get anything up to 70 or 80 pieces of music, and each one – depending on the content – I will sit back, listen to, and – it's not right to say that I do what I want, but ultimately, I'll do what I want. It can be nothing. It can be replacing all the basses with one bass. It can be augmenting the bass. It can be putting a kick in or putting a whole different rhythm element in, removing parts, and changing the storyline of the piece. The melody; the top line. What you're focused on. I'll listen to it and produce the cues. Not really, but kind of. I'll do whatever I feel is needed to make the cues speak as well as they can and deliver the emotion it's supposed to deliver. The actual mixing, ah… but then that goes back to everything. Mixing's a funny one for me. I'm confused about where the line is.
With film, you have to deliver a multitude of stems for the actual soundtrack mixing, as opposed to a stereo mix.
For the soundstage.
That's quite a different delivery than an album.
It's a huge technical achievement to deliver a film score. It's quite extraordinary; the amount of skill that everyone involved has is mind-blowing. It's amazing going between that work and songs. I love working on songs, but then I get so bored because they're all the same structure, in a way. The same elements. Again, another generalization. A film score is a constant surprise. I've just done a movie where one cue went through so many different flavors of music, from salsa to rock to orchestral to half-time. Mixing one cue, a big cue in a movie, is like mixing an album.
Right, with that many changes.
Yeah. Also, not only do I then get the orchestra to integrate, but "adds" constantly appear. I'll get an email or a phone call. "Oh, we've got this guitar player. He's going to play on half the cues." Someone will send me guitars that I integrate, or don't integrate. It's this huge beast that needs taming.
When did you first start getting into the film score work?
About 10 or 11 years ago.
Who approached you initially?
Hans Zimmer. I've known him since I was young; I met him while playing at a gig. It was a Buggles gig, actually. After the gig, he came up and we had a chat. He said, "Oh, we must work together." I was thinking, "Yeah, right. Okay. Whatever. We'll work together." Then he called me! He got me over and explained as much as he could the process of film scoring. He gave me a lot of time, which in retrospect was extraordinary, because he's busy. Then back I went to London. A couple of months later, he said, "I'd like you to mix the movie I'm working on." I went, "Okay! What's the movie?" He said, "It's The Dark Knight Rises." Of course, I messed it up completely, because I didn't know what I was doing, but he persevered with me, which is amazing of him.
I love that you feel freedom to take it where you see it working best, as opposed to being hands-off and nervous about making any changes.
I don't know how else to be. Hans is funny with me. Whenever we're in meetings, the first time I meet a director or something, he'll always make some remark like, "Oh, this is the guy who's going to tell you how bad everything is." That's how he introduces me, which I never know what to make of it. What I'm saying is, if I don't think something's good, I'm going to tell whoever it is [my opinion], and I'm going to try and help and do something about it. Not "not good," but if it could be better.
I think you defined a record producer right there.
Kind of.
I was fascinated to find out you'd built a studio in your early 20s.
