This studio seems compact, yet it's very complete.
I think what's really interesting about the studio, and the whole building, is that we are solar powered. The fibers that come from making denim [Bonded Logic's UltraTouch] are in the walls for insulation.
And soundproofing too?
Yeah. They actually have a great STC rating [sound transmission class]. All of the power in here is low- wattage. Most of the gear I have is not really soaking up a lot of power. The [Solid State Logic] AWS [900] is very conservative in terms of energy. Everything gets turned off. The lights in the studio have a two-hour clock on them so they shut [themselves] off. You have to wind the clock again. All of the wiring is recycled from different studios that were going out of business. Cable is cable. All we had to do was cut the ends off and re-solder. We recycled a tape machine from a friend of ours. We went out and bought some things new. The philosophy here is about being able to make our records and not soak up so much power and energy in doing so. I think we did a pretty good job. Is it perfect? No. Is it working? It works great.
It's definitely a big step forward. How many solar panels are you running?
I think there are thirty-five up there. The last Jack [Johnson] record [Sleep Through the Static] was 100% solar power. The sun is feeding the panels, the panels are feeding the walls and the walls are feeding the amps. The guys are feeding the guitars, which are feeding my microphones that feed the Pro Tools and tape. It's this whole cycle. People trip out when they come in. "Solar power? Really?"
"Is it going to die in the middle of my take?"
I actually had a guy ask me that. "I think my amp sounds different." Then he said, "Oh, I had the wrong pedal in."
You started off your career as the guy who worked at every studio in town.
I feel I was searching and my search came to an end. When I started off, I worked at all these places and I got to work with a bunch of people in different studios. But a few years ago we started seeing a lot of these places closing. That came into my decision a little bit, but mostly it was because of the people. When Jack [Johnson] and Emmett [Malloy] approached me and said, "Do you want to be a part of this?" I said, "Let me think about it." I talked to my wife to see what she thought and I realized, "This is a nice fit."
The time was right.
And I liked the people who were here. I found a home. I really feel like there's something special here and it reminds me of going back to the days of Atlantic Records — Tom Dowd (whom I really admire), [Jerry] Wexler and [Ahmet] Ertegün. They were the pioneers of their time. They kept it insulated and more of a home/family kind of a thing, and I feel like we have that in a different way. The whole label and artist and studio — everything all in one — can be terribly difficult at times but it can be so rewarding at others.
How do you think the recording process has changed from those days to the present?
The way we record now — we're too much in a rush. Nowadays you write a song — you're in some pro studio, you're in your home studio — "Let me get it out. I'm going to do it right now." It's so instantaneous that we don't take the time to see if something's there or not. To really hone in and ask, "What is this? What am I trying to say?" Most people don't listen anymore. It's a shame. Most people want it to sound good now but they don't want it to feel good. Sound is a byproduct of music making. It's emotion that we're being sold on. They go hand in hand, but songwriting is such an underrated craft.
You brought this up a lot when we were working together — that a lot of the technique you use to record the music is inconsequential.
Sure. You can take any song and record it five thousand different ways. I wish I could say that I'm the "end- all be-all" as an engineer or mixer, but I'm not. I'm just one of the guys that do this for a living. We have to progress and as a byproduct things change. But the songwriting part of it and paying attention to what the words say and what you're trying to evoke emotion from — I don't think people pay much attention anymore.
You're saying the process, from the inception of a musical idea to the final recording, has been compressed. What specifically do you think is contributing to that?
Instant gratification.
That's a bigger social phenomenon.
That comes into the recording process reflected in people having no patience. I've had a lot of sessions where people say, "My headphones aren't working!" "We haven't got to them yet." There's a certain speed I like to work at and a certain ebb and flow of how a session could go. Most people now act like, "I want to go. I want to get this done." There's no time to sit back. "What are we trying to say here?" Jack's last record was all done on tape. "I never did a record on tape. I want to try it." I grew up with tape, so I know what to do with it and how to make it sound good. To me, digital or tape, there is no difference anymore. It's what medium you prefer to work in. Using tape really reminded me of the old ways of making records — the pauses in-between. The rewind time. The time to take a reel off and put another reel on, fill in the track sheet, write down times. I'm not trying to romanticize the process, but it was so much easier to pause in between songs and say, "Okay. We're working on this song today." Then you're in that mood. That would help you get to the next level of that song. I have had this happen to me a few times: When I was laying down a vocal it's, "All right, give me another one." Well, we didn't even listen to the previous one.
You didn't go back and listen.
"Give me another one. I know I can get it better." I can understand if someone feels like that wasn't the one, but sometimes it is the one. You should at least take a moment to listen and see if there is anything in there. You get into this whirl of multi-tasking. For some people, technology has helped with that. Like Beck — he has a lot of ideas and likes to throw them down instantly. Midnight Vultures - that album couldn't have been done any other way than with Pro Tools. He had so many ideas that he had three different studios going on at one time. He had Mickey [Petralia], Tony [Hoffer] and the Dust Brothers [John King and Mike Simpson] all going at once. I would come in and say, "What's going on here today?" It was randomness and that's okay. That's part of the process for him, but it also led to a lot of confusion in the end. That outcome was a little bit of a spastic-ness. I think that comes off in the record a little bit.
Compared to some of his other stuff.
I'm not saying it's a bad record. Beck is great at what he does and it's not a dis on him. It's just an example of one of the many ways to do a record. I'm at the point now where I'm trying to slow things down a little bit.
When you're in the studio and it's, "The clock is ticking and the dollars are adding up." It's always the engineer who is last guy who can do anything else but man the controls. How can engineers set boundaries in their work environment?
I wish I could tell you there's no disconnect, but there is. My job is to set it up, get the sound right and make sure technically that nothing [bad] is happening. Did a mic go out? It takes all your focus and everything around you is bullshit. Your wife calls? "I gotta call you back." There's this moment of anxiety during [a take of] the whole song and all of a sudden you're done and you get the calm. I've been doing that for almost seventeen years and that doesn't go away. If I lose that feeling, I don't want to do this anymore. There is something with adrenaline that happens that gets me off. I can't explain it, but I get caught up. Now I'm starting to be more, "I've got to stand up. I haven't stood up for over two hours. I need to drink water."
Water! Food!
