I heard your first roommate when you moved to L.A. was Flea?
Yeah, exactly. When I came first to New York in 2006 I was 20, and I played in a band there. We did a lot of touring for about two years, and the intention was probably to either stay there after this band broke up or go back to Australia. We had toured with Perry Farrell's band, Satellite Party. I was coming through L.A., meeting some friends that I had made on tour, and I ended up playing with Perry Farrell at a charity event that Tom Morello [Rage Against the Machine] put on at the Hotel Cafe in Hollywood. He invited all of his friends to sit in. Flea was one of them, and we ended up meeting that night and jammed on two songs. One was a Parliament song! We kept in touch after that, and he asked if I wanted to play drums on a solo record [Helen Burns] that he was making. So, my first place in L.A. was in Flea's guest room in Malibu, which was an insane opportunity and such a generous gesture from someone that didn't really know me that well. But we connect with people easily and rapidly when we have a musical connection with them. That was my first connection to L.A. and the L.A. music scene. Over the course of living with Flea, we talked about a lot of music and somehow Warpaint came up. I remember him saying, "I think you'd like this band." I saw them play at Spaceland in Silver Lake [neighborhood of Los Angeles] and, through a number of magical connections, we ended up playing together.
I thought you'd been in the band since the beginning.
I think they had five drummers before I joined, including the original drummer, who was [bassist] Jenny [Lee Lindberg]'s sister. They made their first EP, Exquisite Corpse, with a combination of those drummers that they were touring with. The first LP [The Fool] was the band as we know it now, me included, which we did with Tom Biller who'd worked a lot with Jon Brion [Tape Op #18].
You've ended up doing quite a bit of studio work as a session drummer.
I did a lot of that before Warpaint as well, so it felt pretty natural to continue that job.
What is your strength as a drummer? Why do people hire you over the many other drummers out there?
I think that I really love that job. I enjoy collaborating with people. I don't know if I have a dominant identity on the drums; I don't feel like I have one. I don't come into sessions thinking, "I'm going to do my thing," if that makes sense. I'm going to play the way that I always play on Cate Le Bon’s records, on Kurt Vile’s records, or on Courtney's Barnett's records. I don't bring the same ideas. I like to be as much of a chameleon as possible and try and read what the artist wants and needs. What's the dream scenario? Not mind reading, necessarily, but being a good sport and collaborator in the studio. I'm sure there are lots of other drummers that do exactly the same thing, but for some stroke of luck I get hired.
But you also get rehired, too. You have a consistent group of people that you continue to work with. I always think of you, and Cate, and Samur as a younger “Wrecking Crew” from L.A. that comes and visits me every few years. [laughter]
Yeah, we did that Tim Presley record [The Wink] together. It's so fun to make music with people that I love and become close friends with. It's the development of that rapid, intimate relationship that you can have with people when you play music with them. You can spend ten years drinking at bars with people, or you can play music with them.
What do you do to prep for someone new that you haven't worked with?
Not a lot, to be honest. I don't study people's previous music too much. Sometimes I'll happen to be a fan, and I've experienced their music whether I've been a fan or it's something that's in the ether. I'll understand what their style is. But every artist reinvents themselves in some micro degree with every new album or song that they make. It's always going to be something different. To come in and be extra-prepared clouds my judgement. I prefer coming in and reading what an artist is feeling that day and what their ideas are for this one specific song, without coming in with a predetermined idea. I think there's a real pleasure to creating something from scratch with people. That's something that keeps people interested in their own music, and other people's music, with those small evolutions that they make, from song to song or from album to album.
What's your mental state in the studio when you meet a new artist, producer, or engineer?
It's usually a lot of talking, gossiping, hanging out, and taking the temperature. Usually people, whether they're mindful of it or not, are deciding in the moment whether they made the right decision to hire this one person or whether the chemistry is correct in the room, and there are other players involved lots of the time. There are so many things happening in that moment. It's like when you meet someone for the first time, they tell you their name and you shake hands; but all of that goes out the window in this one moment because you're so flooded with information. "What's the color of their eyes? How do they smell? How are they walking around the room?" There's a parallel to that in music-making as well. I'm sitting down and start playing with people that I've never played with before; a bass player who's got a totally unique groove and a guitar player that's maybe pushing a little bit in a nice way, and then I'm hearing all these directives from the producer or the artist in the control room. It's a lot of information to take in, even if a lot of it is subconscious. I think the best state to be in is a relaxed state. When I first start recording, I get a bit of red-light fever. We're jamming through the song, figuring it out. And then once we start tracking, all of a sudden my muscles tense up. I call it “hot veins.” I get it a lot when we're doing performances on television where it's live and the stakes are pretty high. I don't want to screw up because I don't want to have to do another take and slow everyone down. That used to happen a lot, but now it's about being as relaxed as possible. A lot of the chatting and what we think of as superfluous studio time contributes to that relaxed state, because then I'll feel comfortable hanging out with these people and it usually leads to good music, or at least a good performance. I can have a proclivity for overthinking. I can definitely trip myself out, but because I've played music more than most other activities that I've done in my life, I've figured out what works best for me and what doesn't necessarily serve me or the situation.
Let's move to the technical side a little. The first time I recorded an experienced drummer – Michael Urbano – getting a good drum sound was suddenly easy. He'll listen to what we've recorded, tunes his performance to accommodate the recording, and I don't have to do a lot of EQ or switch mics. What are your tips for what a drummer can do to make the recording better? Or how can a producer help the drummer be the person who makes recording drums easy?
That's a good question. I don't know if I can universally answer it, but I can definitely answer it within my experience. That's something I learnt almost exclusively from recording, versus live performance or practicing drums. I first experienced this 15 or 16 years ago with Noah [Georgeson] and Samur when they were engineering and producing Adam Green. He made a movie called Adam Green's Aladdin, and I played drums on the soundtrack that he composed. I remember the value, within that style of music, of playing soft and hearing myself well. Maybe it's taking headphones off, but obviously I can't do that if I have to listen to a click. Having as clear of a picture of the sound that's being recorded is not only important, it's also enjoyable. It's fun to hear how different my drums and playing can sound when the overhead mics are super low. Or, if the sound is extremely roomy I'll play differently based on how those are set up. Sometimes, it's a case of the sonic identity of an album already being established before I walk into the room. With Adam Green, it was very much Serge Gainsbourg-y, close mic'd dry drums. It wasn't, “Let's hear how Stella plays, and we'll set up around her.” It's nice to get into the universe that is established sonically and then play with that. Whether it's someone sending me an echo or reverb on the snare, or giving me a lot more room mics, or a lot less, I'll play differently based on that sonic personality. That's not a burden; it's fun. Like gaining up a preamp and feeling that when I'm tracking that I can play super light, but it's also resonant and so beautiful. Or knowing that we're doing a full Dave Grohl meets Steve Albini [Tape Op #10, #87] thing with huge room mics and playing according to that. Maybe that feels a bit too general, but that's my tip. That can be a fruitful, fun part of recording. It's not overthinking. It's, "What does it sound like right now? If I play a little bit quieter or a little bit louder, where's the sweet spot in this? And how is it interacting with any other instrumentation that's there?" That's the thing I learnt most from recording with great engineers, like Noah, Samur, and Rob Schnapf [#9] with Kurt Vile.
Your headphone mix is pretty crucial?
Totally. I've started experimenting with using my in-ears in the studio, which I never have before. I don't think it makes a huge difference, but it's a psychological thing for me. I know there are more drivers hitting my eardrums; there's more clarity and more of a larger scope, sonically, that I'm hearing. But honestly, 99 percent of what I've recorded has been with Audio-Technica headphones. I don't get too finicky with it, but I definitely like to hear roughly what's happening with the drum mix so I can play it into it.
Have you picked a favorite signal path, in terms of mics and preamps?
When I'm recording myself, which I do more often than not, obviously I have a lot more choices with that. I like a transformer-based sound: the Yamaha mixer that I have, with the direct outs, and the BAE and UTA [Undertone Audio] gear. I like to have a choice between transformer-based sound and a cleaner tone. I enjoy the way my ear responds to, and how my playing responds to, a more – for lack of a better word – blown out sound. Then I can play really quiet, and that's the sweet spot for me.
Are there any mics in particular that you gravitate towards?
The AEA or RCA 44; the large ribbon mics. I love Coles 4038s. The best drum sound I've ever had, I think, is a mono Coles with a kick mic, plus maybe room and snare mics. I like four mic setups. I usually use the classic [Shure] SM57 on the snare, and lately the Alien8 mic on the kick drum. It’s a figure 8 dynamic mic made by a company in Australia called DrAlienSmith. I don't want a super lo-fi, crazy, grungy sound. I push certain elements, like pushing a ribbon within reason to make it come alive.
Do you do the Glyn Johns [Tape Op #109] mic setup?
Sometimes, yeah. I also like a variation on the ORTF [see sidebar] that I have with the Soyuz 013 SDCs.
Oh, right. I saw that upstairs.
I love that sound in certain spaces. I love close overhead sounds, but if I'm in the perfect room I'll definitely use as many ribbons as possible and maybe a nice LDC. I just got a Neumann U 87, which I love, but it doesn't work in every environment.
Years ago, almost every session used to start with the drums and a band playing together. That point's obviously long gone. I would assume you would still prefer to lay down a drum track with human beings playing together in a room?
One thousand percent, yeah.
But I also assume you often get hired to put down drums after the fact, where all the other instruments are already tracked. How do you deal with that?
That's a good question as well. I haven't thought about that shift so much because when I first started recording professionally, we were already in that hybrid phase. A lot of people were making pretty fleshed out demos in their bedrooms or home studios. A lot of people start with drum machines, build the song, and either keep in some elements of the drum machine or have someone replace the drum machine parts with a live drummer. Over half of the time, I'm the last piece of the puzzle, the live drum performance, which I don't mind at all. It's a totally different part of my brain because I'm interpreting, not necessarily creating. It's enjoyable both ways. But with some styles of music, like playing with Kurt Vile, we feed off each other and we establish an idea that then becomes a song. There's a song called “Girl Called Alex” on his Wakin on a Pretty Daze album. That was something that we came up with. I totally forgot about it. We were just jamming on acoustic guitar and drums, and then he went away and built a whole song out of it. I don't think we could have made that song, or he could have written that song, if it went the other direction. I'll make different decisions based on the rhythm. If I have any advice, it's just enjoying every variation of the process. Knowing that it's a different hat that you're wearing when playing and responding to players and creating an idea that will then get transformed into a piece of music. A song is an open, risky process. Trust that these few people in the room are going to add some value or come up with something that's compelling enough to write lyrics over. I guess it's safer to do that legwork yourself if you're a songwriter and you engineer your music. I like them both. I don't mind coming into a session and someone is saying, "I have the drum part mapped out from the first second to the last beat, and I want you to play exactly as I've programmed it in Ableton Live." Great, what a fun challenge. I like to program a drum machine in some inhuman way and try and replicate it on the drum kit. I'll come up with parts I wouldn't have imagined if I was just doing my usual combination of beats and rhythms that have been ingrained into my soul. I can mash the sequencer on an Elektron Octatrack or a Roland [TR-]808 and try and play that. It could be cool!
Do you find yourself consciously trying to push or pull the beat a little bit during sections of the song when you're recording to a mostly finished track?
Definitely, but within reason. Some people require me to be as on beat as possible, as the whole ecosystem of the song is already so established that if I start putting in a J Dilla vibe it's like, "Whoa. I feel sick." It's more about if I hear an idea when I'm in that process. It's important to give the artist or the producer what they hear in droves, so that they have lots of options. And then, if I think it could be interesting, "Do you mind if I do a pass with a couple of ideas that I have?" Maybe they'll use two or three fills out of that pass. I'm a working-class musician in that way. I like to give people what they paid for first, and then, if there's time, if they're open to it, I'll try something a little bit different.
How often do you have to do a single part, like just a hi-hat?
