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You’re never done. You sweat and toil over your mixes for hours and hours. You listen, you hear something that bothers you and you go back. You keep listening, you find something else that bothers you and again you go back. You keep going back, you keep tweaking- FINAL mix, FINAL mix 2, FINAL FINAL FINAL mix, and still you go back. So how do you know when it’s time to let go? How do you finally let go?

Your songs and pieces are your babies, and once you call a mix you have to live with it forever. Of course you always have the option of revisiting a recording and doing a remix, but it gets costly and impractical to continue to tweak every recording you decide to release. In the final analysis you’re probably way over budget already, and this carries the most weight in learning to let go. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been writing new stuff, and you’re probably already there in terms of wanting to capture it and lay it down for everyone who follows your music.

In all my years of recording I only attained the “perfect track” once. Perfection is an illusion that doesn’t really exist, because you will always hear things you could have or would have done differently. They could be blatant noises or subtle shadings, but they’re there, gnawing at you every time they come around. I strive to make the music sound as best as I possibly can, but I’m only human, and the musicians I work with are only human too. We miss the mark sometimes, and we don’t always notice or pick up on something until it’s out the door and being downloaded into someone’s living room in the UK. Oh well, we can’t get everything back, try as we might- we learn to live with these CD’s and digital files and we move on. Chances are whatever it is will mostly bother us and not others, because we know it’s there, we created it after all.

I have had some of the most amazing experiences of my life in the studio. The studio is timeless, and many cherished moments and memories are inextricably woven into the fabric of my being. I have had the pleasure and privilege of working with many gifted musicians, these creative collaborations serve as my proudest contributions in music. Music is the driving force in my life, and it will continue to move me and inspire me like no other art form.

I’ve still got a long way to travel when it comes to my creative paths and pursuits. In fact, in many ways, I think I’m just getting started….

The gig is booked, the stage is set, the board at the studio is fired up- whatever performance scenario you find yourself in, you hope and you pray that all of your players show up on time and ready to go. Unfortunately this isn’t always the case. Much to my own horror there have been a few occasions when a player has been missing in action. Missing in action and nowhere to be found. There are a number of reasons as to why this has occurred, but the number one reason, the predominant reason is: your lover gave you the boot and you are now homeless and destitute, you had to hock your axe to survive and you are holed up somewhere without any means of communication, embarrassed, dejected, and in a severe state of depression.

As embarrassing and depressing as this may be for your dejected player who went AWOL, it is even more embarrassing and humiliating for you because you are the leader and this reflects badly on your leadership skills and ability to meet your professional obligations. You don’t get a lot of chances in this business and you have to seize on every opportunity and shine, first impressions are everything. I know how it feels to have to improvise at a moment’s notice when you are left holding the bag, when a band member is missing, when your drummer has left you.

So what do you do when this happens?, what to do, what to do. This is where humor and elasticity really come in handy. You could try juggling, but that won’t cut it, will it? No, this is where you get to find out what you’re really made of, you get to bring out some of your very best stuff and realize that regardless of what happens, you can summon your best creative self at any given moment.

In live performance situations I’ve done a number of things such as altering arrangements, omitting and/or adding songs and pieces to my set list (some of these performances worked out better than what I had originally intended), playing solo, etc. In the studio you have a bit more flexibility. You can utilize equipment and technology to add instrumentation, create pads, effects, ear candy, etc. Today’s sampling is much improved and offers a wide array of good options. I do tend to prefer the natural acoustics, sonic elements and organic nature of actual instruments so if you’re not able to substitute the real thing you can always opt to hold off and schedule another session at a later date. You can use scheduled studio time productively and not waste it. You might be able to shift gears and track another part or do some editing or more pre-pro for another tune. I’ve even been lucky enough to find other musicians who were able to hop over to the studio within minutes and jump right into a session, excellent players who can read and play anything and truly saved the day for me.

It’s a bummer when your drummer leaves you, but it doesn’t have to spell disaster. You are a strong, creative entity who can easily improvise and weave a bit of magic out of any situation. Focus on the positives, and be grateful that you don’t have to hock your axe and hide away in some low-rent dump, mumbling to yourself in the middle of the night.

The girl could play, her fingers flitted across the keys at a dizzying pace. It wasn’t just that she could play fast, I’ve always felt that it’s much harder to play at slower tempos, there’s so much space to fill, and not fill. She could play because she was so accomplished and so musical, and she was comfortable in any genre. She was an awesome musician, a musician who happened to orbit planes I never knew existed. In other words- she was really out there! Now I’ve been known not to have a toe or two on the ground from time to time, but she had total liftoff!

She was kind of a throwback to the late 60’s or early 70’s- a hippie, yippie, trippy kind of a gal. Her utterances reminded me of Monk at times, no one could discern their meaning, not even the most perspicacious individual. She was totally out there, yet we clicked and formed a bond. We shared similar  cultural experiences growing up and we were both sensitive, creative beings who looked at the world differently (her vantage points being a bit further out there in the cosmos than mine). We could communicate, and we developed an understanding on deep levels. Time was irrelevant- we spent a total of two hours together, and all of this transpired and unfolded within moments. Existential phenomena cannot be analyzed, broken down or explained. It just is what it is.

She was a wild free spirit who put herself out there in order to take in all the universe had to offer and leave a little of herself hanging out there in the exchange. She danced all over my minor bluesy tune, and we ended up having to pair back a lot of what she gave us in the mix. She loved my changes, and she wove through them like a true master.  Less is more, more often than not. It was all so good, we chose to add her into the mix like a secret ingredient- subtle, delicious, pulling all of the other flavors together.

Her wild, flowing curls matched her free flowing spirit and bohemian ways. Funky clothes, midnight shades and altered states framed the mystery of her transcendence. She was enigmatic and cool beyond belief, connecting to all omnipresent vibrations- musical, visceral and ethereal. It was an amazing session, and I had such a good time. In fact our session is without a doubt one of my most treasured studio experiences.

She’s out there doing her thing now and I’m doing mine. We haven’t had a chance to come together again in the studio but she left me with so much more than the sublime part she laid down that day. I can listen back and remember and reflect, and smile, and breathe, and ponder and wonder. All because of a hippie, yippie, trippy girl, a brilliant keyboardist who floated somewhere over the cosmos and onto my recording one late Spring afternoon.

DO:

1- Save, Save, Save It!!! Remember to save- save everything when you’re laying down parts in Digital Performer or some other MIDI sequencing program. Save every take in Pro Tools, save every take you ever do! You don’t want to lose that elusive “perfect” take, the one that can never be captured again. You know the one I’m talking about, right? It’s gone. ( I just hit the Save button in WordPress).

2- Triple your production budget after you decide on a figure- you’ll still come up short, believe me!

3- Make lots of extra copies re: scores, charts, parts and lead sheets!

4- Feed your players, engineers and interns during marathon sessions- they’ll love you for it!

5- Take breaks, step away from the console and remember to rest! Avoid ear fatigue and getting fried!

DON’T:

1- Wait till the last minute, leave plenty of time for everything!

2- Get fixated on one idea, stay open!

3- Get stuck or perseverate if something’s not working, move on and come back to it! The reason is always obvious- that note, or tone, or line, or instrument, or chord change or harmony or effect or plug-in probably doesn’t belong in your piece, OR- it needs to be reworked!

4- Schedule a session in Boston between the months of April and October without checking the Red Sox Schedule first. You could end up sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on Storrow Drive for hours and hours, never making it to your session, cursing the Bambino, or cursing someone, or something!

5- Forget your checkbook! You must ALWAYS pay the band!

The dude came highly recommended, but the dude had serious tude! He strode into the studio with an air of arrogance I’d never before experienced, not in all my days of being a musician.

I needed some melodic percussion for a Caribbean flavored tune and I found him through the usual channels. The tune was fairly straight ahead, fusing reggae and calypso rhythms with a pop bent. The changes were simple, the chord progression was made up of mostly diatonic patterns in the key of F.

We started overdubbing and every time he played a line over a G- triad he played a B natural instead of a Bb. What the ?, I couldn’t understand it, neither could DP. We stopped recording and I asked our haughty percussionist to check his part, perhaps he was having trouble reading it, maybe the copy was smudged or illegible. “No”, he told us, “the part is fine”. When I pointed out that he was playing a B natural over a G minor triad in the middle of a diatonic pop tune in the key of F (context is important here- the definition of a “wrong note” has more to do with context than anything else) he went on to state that, “B natural is right, I’m playing the correct note.” We debated this for several minutes- so much for basic music theory!

I wasn’t about to engage in any further discussion on the matter, or teach a basic theory lesson to someone who was purported to be a professional studio musician and music professor at a local college.  I ended the session immediately (needless to say he was fuming and outraged that I dismissed him without hesitation).

I changed the arrangement, brought in new personnel and had a lot of fun overdubbing and mixing the tune. It worked out well in the end, and not a single B natural was ever heard!

His girlfriend threw him out, and he didn’t know what to do with himself (more on this phenomenon later). She’d throw him out, then take him back, and the process was continually repeated. This is a story about a very lonely bassist who had nowhere to go, and plenty of time on his hands.

DP and I had scheduled an evening session at his home studio, we planned on recording some remote bass tracks and then transferring those tracks over to the studio when we were ready to mix. The session was scheduled for 7 PM, it was a Sunday, and I went about my day as usual. I was well prepared in advance of the session so I had nothing to attend to, all I had to do was get in my car and drive a half-hour to DP’s place.

It had been a relaxing, mellow day for me. I arrived at DP’s place about 6:45 and was greeted with a look of pain, dismay and utter consternation. I knew immediately that something wasn’t quite right. “What’s wrong?”, I asked DP. “What’s wrong?”, he replied in an usually agitated manner. “I was out playing basketball with Douglas (his son), when we came home at 3 I found our bass player sitting by the front door! I needed to take care of weekend chores and spend time with the kids and in between I’ve had to entertain our session player who decided to show up four hours early!!!!” “Wow, I’m really sorry”, I told him. If anything some musicians tend to show up late to a session, not early- especially THAT early. Of course most professional session players show up on time and prepared. I won’t hire a player who is chronically late, time is money in the studio.

DP was slightly frazzled, he needed to transition into engineer/producer mode. I went to say hello to B (our bassist) and chatted with him for a few so DP could have a little space to set up for our session. B was a friendly guy who craved interaction with others. He was a solid bass player so our session went smoothly, without a hitch. He laid down some beautiful tracks and gave us a lot to work with. We listened to various takes for awhile, we were all extremely pleased. I figured I’d be on my way home within twenty minutes of wrapping up. There was just one tiny problem however- B wouldn’t leave!!! We stretched, and yawned, and talked about all the “things we had to do”- but B never took a hint. I couldn’t bail on DP, I had to stay and try to help him gently coax B out the door. It was like having the dinner guest from hell who NEVER goes home. “GET OUT-LEAVE-PLEASE DEPART IMMEDIATELY BECAUSE YOU HAVE OVERSTAYED YOUR WELCOME!!!”- but the message never gets through and you’re stuck with this person who is totally clueless. Nice, pleasant, gentle and cheerful but TOTALLY CLUELESS!!! There are only so many yawns, stretches and to-do lists you can throw out there before you have to take a more direct approach. Finally, after hours of subtle hinting, DP said in an exhausted voice, “it’s been a great night but I really need to go to bed now”. Whew- is that all we really needed?

I learned another very important lesson that night. Sometimes the best approach is the direct approach, you can still be tactful and polite while delivering your message. Not everyone picks up on subtext (especially musicians), sometimes you just need to say what you mean. After DP said what he meant B finally left, and I finally got to go home- yawning, stretching, and thinking about my to-do lists all the way. I have no idea where B went after he split but I do know that his girlfriend took him back, the very next day.

There are pros and cons to being a Guinea pig in the studio. If you’re thinking about offering yourself up as a subject of experimentation so that new recording systems and equipment can be tested please think on these things before volunteering:

1- You may have to endure hours and hours of ennui as nothing works the way it’s “supposed to” and nothing is accomplished. So much for “free studio time” for your project.

2- Pack a lunch or dinner because most engineers and producers forget to eat “real food”.

3- Bring a book, iPod, Blackberry or whatever else you can think of to entertain yourself during those long, endless hours of nothingness.

4- Consider alternative career paths (just kidding!).

5- You may learn a thing or two about cutting edge studio technology.

6- You may get lucky and come away with an amazing new track (utilizing the latest bells and whistles) that allows you to shine and stand out in some way.

7- Studio professionals may remember your kind and patient ways and reward you in the future for your sweat equity.

8- If all else fails there’s always Rigo Janci (refer to “I like What I’m Hearing”).

Finally, if you do decide to act as a Guinea pig remember to bring a pair of shades with you because you will emerge from the studio into the bright sunlight again, regardless of how it all turns out.

More Notes And Scribbles

Notes And Scribbles

Half the world is on meds. The half that is on meds appears to be well-adjusted and even-keeled (for the most part). The half that isn’t on meds is comprised of a mix of those who really don’t need to be on meds and those who really SHOULD be on meds. Musicians can be found in either half- some are on meds, some are off meds, some aren’t on any meds and some need their meds adjusted!

DP and I have had encounters with musicians from all of the above-mentioned groups. We’re working with artists, sensitive souls who often wear their hearts on their sleeves. Emotions can run wild and overflow without warning, untimely and unexpected emotions that may (unbeknownst to you) be percolating silently  between the + of 1 and the + of 4. When you add hormones and chemical imbalances into the mix it can make for some very interesting moments in the studio.

We are all human and we are all affected by loss, separation, angst, disagreement, lost love, unrequited love, unmet desires and shattered dreams. We are easily bruised and tend to beat ourselves up when we feel as if we are going to fail or we do fail to meet our own expectations and/or the expectations of others. We are tender and we are needy and we strive to achieve and be recognized. Our task in life is to try and modulate our emotions, balance our imbalances and harness our raging hormones as we negotiate life, love and work (I’m not claiming it’s an easy task). So- sometimes, some of us (if we’re having a very bad day) may be unsuccessful in such an effort. Some of us may decompensate a little and erupt or explode, have a tantrum, throw a hissy fit or burst into tears during the middle of a recording session. Granted, it’s not what I would call “professional behavior”, but something has obviously gone awry with the id, or ego, or superego or some mechanism of the human psyche. Some imbalance is not in balance, some raging hormones haven’t been quelled, some filter has failed somewhere and it can be very messy.

I love the way that DP tries to massage things- he tries to infuse his rational self into the irrational, it is truly something to behold. Sometimes a calming voice can agitate the situation even further.  If the situation escalates it’s best to call a time out before you have to duck and run for cover as projectile objects are hurled in your general direction. Of course I’m just kidding, it’s never gotten to that point but there have been some intense, tense, fiery moments. It really is smart to pull the plug when all reason has gone out the window, walk away and reassess the situation. Is there a pattern to this kind of disruptive behavior or is it a one time thing? Can you empathize and be patient and understanding during the turbulence or is the situation too difficult to manage?  Can you work with someone else or are you locked in? Most important, are you able to maintain your own sanity? Take all the time you need to evaluate your options and weigh the pros and cons carefully. If you feel that making a personnel change is the best course of action then by all means go ahead and do so. Recording should be a joyful pursuit, you shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells or dance around someone who has a volatile temperament. If you have no choice but to muddle through for awhile (or your generous heart can’t bear the thought of cutting someone loose) you can employ some helpful strategies. Pay careful attention, take mental notes and identify potential triggers. If you can avoid or at least minimize those triggers and stay centered in yourself you’ll be just fine. Remember your sense of humor and it use it as a diffuser, keep the tone light and cheery and focus on getting a good musical result. Your project will be completed before you can say the words, “have you spoken with your doctor about a possible increase in your medication?”

For the most part my experiences with other musicians have been upbeat, positive, fun and moving. It is rare for a musician to melt down in the middle of a session. It’s rare, but it does happen. So stay loose, be cool and always rejoice in the music.

He had to go, but he never said a word. He arrived at the studio on a clear Spring night- a quiet, soft-spoken, unassuming presence. He didn’t need to say much; he spoke volumes through his horn.

DP and I had been working on a ballad and experimented with a variety of instrumentation before deciding on flugelhorn for a simple eight bar melodic solo. We wanted to capture the tenderness of the song by using something warm and resonant, with innocent overtones. Yup, flugelhorn was the ticket- it was time to get out the rolodex and make some calls. We found our guy and immediately booked the session.

Our horn player was an outstanding musician, first-rate in every sense of the word. He played it all- jazz, classical, pop, rock- you name it. He was so musical and incredibly tasty; his ears were truly golden. I couldn’t wait to start the session- it was a foregone conclusion that I was going to savor every moment of the two hours we had booked. These were the moments I cherished the most; these gifted session players lifted my notes off the page effortlessly and brought my music to life. My notes, my lines and my creations would remain still and lifeless if not for the infusion of the ingenious musical voices that float ephemerally across the studio threshold. I had no doubt that DP and I were about to be transported to celestial planes. All this cat needed was a couple of minutes to tune-up and we would be on our way!

What happened next was rather shocking. We didn’t see any celestial bodies, we were left dangling over a landfill in South Jersey. We started rolling tape when we knew the mix was fine in the cans and the click track was audible. His lines were perfect, but his intonation was off. Way off- way, way off. What in the world was going on? We did more takes, and DP began to utter the now famous phrase “I like what I’m hearing.” His lines were so beautiful- but his intonation was still so off, so horribly, terribly, wretchedly off! We couldn’t understand why this was happening, it didn’t make any sense. This was a gifted, top shelf musician. The song was a simple, straight ahead ballad. The changes weren’t complicated: CMAJ7, B-11, A-7, E-7, CMAJ7, B-11, A-7, D7 (sus4,no5th)- easy, diatonic changes in the key of G. In fact, this was one of the few times I wrote such an easy set of changes. The melody called for it, so what was the problem? What was the problem???

DP in his inimitable wisdom pulled another magic trick out of his hat. It was a simple, easy stall tactic that would hopefully enable everyone to regroup. He didn’t want our guy to know how bad he sounded (and believe me it was BAD!!!). It would have embarrassed him, and it might have made him feel insecure and inadequate. No, DP pulled out a classic play from his Producer Playbook. He blamed our inability to capture the perfect take on technical problems, he blamed the studio equipment and castigated the board for its failure to perform. “Hey man, I’m really sorry we’re having so many problems with the board tonight, we’re gonna need a few minutes with our engineer to fix these technical glitches”, he said. “Please help yourself to a cup of coffee, stretch your legs and feel free to use our restroom which is located right outside the main door.” “Oh great”, said our guy, “I’ve had to go ever since I got here but I felt funny saying something.” Huh? Excuse me? What!!!! You had to go? You had to relieve yourself but “felt funny saying something”? You didn’t empty your bladder before the session started because you happen to be shy? Shy about things like bodily functions? I didn’t even think it was possible to encounter a musician who was shy about such things. Our reputations do proceed us, and I’ve been around musicians all my life. They’re NEVER shy- they let everything fly! Oh my god, we would have never guessed that this was the problem. Wow!

DP pretended to fool with some knobs and faders for a few minutes and we resumed the session shortly thereafter. Needless to say our brilliant yet shy musician did his thing, returned promptly, picked up his horn and nailed the solo in one take. It took all of twenty-six seconds, and we had about eighteen minutes to spare before our session time was up. The solo was gorgeous, and it tugged on our heartstrings the way we had hoped it would. Suffice it to say that we learned another valuable lesson that night.  Whenever we schedule a session with a freelance player the first thing we do is point out the location of the restroom and strongly encourage use of the facilities before we track a single note. You’re never going to get a good result (especially from a brass player with a full bladder) if he or she is squirming uncomfortably with eyeballs rolling backwards. The bottom line is this: you can’t blow if you’ve got to go!

So go- please go, for god’s sake go if you happen to cross the threshold of Studio B. Of course my recommendation stands for everyone else as well.

The first time I heard DP utter the phrase “I like what I’m hearing” I was overjoyed. It was during the early days of our musical explorations in the studio, we hadn’t been working together for very long. “I like what I’m hearing”- given my perfectionist nature the words thrilled me. I thought to myself, “wow, he likes it- he digs my sound, my tone, my lines and my phrasing.” I was beaming with pride, I felt confident and self-assured. Surely nothing could stop me from creating the perfect recording, nothing could prevent from reaching the heights of my creative abilities, nothing could discourage me from immersing myself in this newly discovered and much loved musical medium. I had wrestled my doubts, fears and insecurities to the ground- exultation set in, almost immediately.

What I didn’t realize at the time is that DP was still finding his legs as a producer. DP’s style was born out of a gentle and easy going manner. He’s a musician himself so he understands all too well the fragility of the creative ego. He has always been a kind and mild-mannered soul. In other words, he was just being NICE!!! “I like what I’m hearing” meant the exact opposite, it turned out to be code for “this really sucks!” “I like what I’m hearing” was usually followed by “lets do another one”, “tape’s rolling so keep going” or “great, have you got another one in you?” DP theorized that if he could keep a musician in the “zone” and create a “good vibe” he could eventually get what he wanted and needed from that particular artist. No reason to panic, just keep recording. Keep doing takes until you get what you’re looking for, what you want and what you need. The last thing he wanted to do was discourage you.

It didn’t long for me to crack the code because I am after all a musician too. During playback the simple truth was revealed, it hung out there in all of its unpleasantness. Your ears don’t lie- unless you happen to be tone deaf. DP always insisted that we listen. He figured that we might be able to latch on to an idea, or salvage something, or at least make playback a learning experience so we could identify why an idea wasn’t working. Imagine the anticipation you experience seconds before you are about to devour a fine pastry. It looks amazing- rich, chocolaty, silky decadence that will launch your senses into planes of sheer ecstasy. You pause, you breathe, your taste buds start to tingle before a single sweet morsel touches down. You know what’s coming, it’s almost there. You pause, you breathe, you taste and suddenly- suddenly you recoil! Your whole body jerks backward and you grimace while a look of horror passes before your eyes. This isn’t authentic Hungarian pastry ( I ought to know, because I’m half Hungarian), this chocolate mousse cake, this Rigo Janci (pronounced Reego Yonchee) is foul- it’s disgusting- you want to hurl!! That is exactly what I experienced during some of those early “I like what I’m hearing” playback sessions. You can’t run or hide from the truth, however much it hurts you.

Suffice it to say that DP started using other words, phrases and expressions with me when we were laying down parts. Expressions that communicated the truth, not some pseudo truth in order to stroke my ego. I could take it, I’m a big girl. Although my doubts, fears and insecurities came flooding back (almost immediately) and exultation was fleeting I learned some very important lessons. Sometimes you can regroup quickly. If you’re determined you can shake off whatever it is that is holding you back from articulating and executing your musical ideas. Sometimes however you can’t just shake it off. Your axe is an extension of your voice, and your voice is a channel for your heart and soul. Since musicians transmit feelings and things through their bodies there are days when it just ain’t happening. Maybe you’re having a bad day, you’re stressed out about something, you had a fight with your spouse, money’s tight (nobody ever wants to pay a musician, right?), you don’t feel well or your dog decided to eat the lead sheet you just wrote out (that has been known to happen- wink, wink). When you are off, when you can’t be your best musical self the best thing to do is go home, just go home. It doesn’t make sense to beat things into the ground. Go home, put your feet up, grab something rich, chocolaty and decadent and forget about music for a few hours. Tomorrow’s another day, and the music is always there- it’s always inside of you, waiting to come out.

I can’t begin to describe the elation I feel when DP jokingly whispers “that didn’t suck” into the cans after we finish tracking parts for a new song or piece. Over the years he’s developed a much more sophisticated method of communicating. Of course in all seriousness we do have some very lengthy, deep discussions about music. I can however promise you that he only uses “I like what I’m hearing” with others now, usually with freelance session players we bring in for various projects. This technique has turned out to be quite useful, but God help us if any of those hired guns are reading this Blog!

Welcome to my new Blog! A few years ago during a remix session of “The Need In Me” I came up with the idea of writing a book about my experiences in the studio. I’ve been toying with the idea ever since and decided recently to create a Blog and post installments of the book on my Blog. I’ll put up one chapter every couple of weeks and everyone can read along as I write. When I’ve finished the book I’ll make electronic and hardcover versions available for purchase and use the proceeds for future studio projects. What else would I do with those monies? : )

I love the studio. I love the quiet, just before the start of a session. The protruding walls, the wood- reflection, diffusion, absorption, sound redirected, reverberations cast and felt, without and within.

I love the peacefulness, the tranquility, the sanctuary it provides. I disappear, retreat into another existence, immerse myself in a planetary force of creativity where music flows freely and distraction is dismissed and unwelcome. I am free of inhibition and self-doubt, free of self-conscious regulation and restriction, free of paralyzing performance anxiety and neurotic exhortations, free of judgment in all its forms- for the moment anyway.

I like the fact that when all is said and done I have something to hold on to. That those mystical and enchanting moments that can never be recreated are captured in a tangible form and can be revisited at any time. I can return to those moments, metaphysical in nature, moments of utter joy and inspiration, moments I will treasure all my days.

Not all musicians love the studio, many describe the atmosphere as cold and sterile, they crave interaction with a live audience and feed off the energy a live audience provides. I can certainly understand this, but it’s never been the case with me. Nagging insecurity and my consistent self-editing and perfectionism persisted throughout my twenty-five years of gigging and performing in front of live audiences. The venue didn’t matter, neither did the location. Whether it was a concert, club date or festival I always felt the same: uncomfortable, awkward, unfulfilled and displaced. The audiences were always wonderful, appreciative and supportive. I’m a people person and I enjoyed meeting so many kind and engaging individuals. It wasn’t the people, it was me, I just couldn’t express or communicate my thoughts, ideas and feelings the way I wanted to. The messages didn’t translate because my anxiety always got in the way, I set the bar high and I was never satisfied. I had to find a better way- and thankfully I did.

My earliest professional forays into the studio came on the heels of my graduation from Berklee. I was hired to do some freelance work on demo sessions and it wet my appetite for what was to come. I wasn’t recording my own material at that point but I felt instantly at home and extremely comfortable in the studio. Playback was always exciting to me, hearing my parts interwoven into the whole was a thrill and I savored every opportunity I was given to be part of a studio project and contribute to the overall production of a piece. I felt a great sense of accomplishment while listening back to the tape of a Final Mix of a song or piece I played on. Tracking was heavenly and I quickly caught the recording bug.

After I left New York in ‘91 and moved back to Boston my longtime friend and co-producer David Porter (AKA DP) suggested we work together on a 3 song demo of my original material. David and I had been crisscrossing paths for years, we met during Berklee days and both ended up living in NYC after college. David moved back to Boston a couple of years before I did and we’ve both been in the area ever since. DP had been working his way up the studio ladder, first in New York and then in Boston. We worked at several studios in the Boston area and wherever DP went, I went. Eventually he became a Partner at Mix One Studios and Studio B became my second home. We’ve worked in Studio A recording drums, piano and percussion but the majority of the time we track, edit and mix in B. B has a great vibe- it’s warm, cozy and inviting. During the past eighteen years we’ve collaborated on many studio projects and worked with an impressive roster of local talent.

DP and I have always incorporated a great deal of improvisation and spontaneity into my recordings. Our approach and intent has always been to keep the music a live experience, even within the confines of a studio performance space. I write out parts all the time, they’re essential for mapping out a piece and communicating with other musicians, producers and engineers. I write out parts because they serve as a guide- for time, melody, rhythm and harmony. The parts exist, but you can take the music in many different directions. I’ve never written out a solo for myself and it’s rare that I’ll write one out for someone else. Occasionally I’ll hear something in my head that I want played but I usually leave it to the players on my projects to lay down their own solos. I write out specific changes, lines and rhythms for the music but there is always a lot of room to explore other treatments and alter ideas as we work. Even after pre-pro is completed the approach is organic and flexible, we want to stay open so we can get the best possible result. The goal is to make the best sounding music and everyone’s input and contributions are always welcome and greatly appreciated.

DP and I have developed a style of working together, we’re both guitar players and we meet on similar planes. We share a passion for and deep understanding of music. That fact that we’re also friends only enhances our musical experiences. We don’t need to verbalize much (though we can yammer endlessly), we know intuitively where we’re going and we’re in sync with just about everything.

Much has been written about the technical aspects of recording. A myriad of “how-to” manuals are available to neophytes and seasoned professionals alike. These instructional primers are revised and updated as recording technology breaks new ground. A lot has also been said about the need for preparedness in terms of scheduling and meeting deadlines and budgets. Many resources have been made available on these and other related topics, but very little has been told about the things you don’t anticipate or expect, the things you can’t prepare for. Yes, technology has changed considerably over the years. DP and I have certainly run the gamut of recording equipment, systems and media- analog tape, digital tape, Pro Tools HD. Cassettes, Reels, DATs, CDs, MP3s, WAV files, etc. Whether we’ve used Digital Performer for MIDI Sequencing, miked a Fender amp and tracked a Strat using a Tascam D-88, gone direct into a board or edited and mixed in Pro Tools HD some things haven’t changed and they will undoubtedly never change. I’m talking of course about people, musicians specifically, and all of the glorious, colorful dynamics that arise out of interacting with musicians. The other factor I’m referring to is the UNKNOWN. Dealing with various recording/mixing processes and techniques, software, studio gear and a multitude of creative personalities will test you in ways you never imagined. You come to expect the unexpected, and you need to be somewhat elastic and always maintain your sense of humor if you plan on being successful in your studio endeavors. Throughout the past eighteen years a lot has happened within those quiet, padded, protruding walls. I’d like to share some of my stories and insights with you….