I have recently bumped into an alarming number of acquaintances who are leaving the audio industry after decades of hard graft. A couple are returning to college to study unrelated subjects, journalism and computer studies, one is driving a truck, two are moving sideways into video and one plans to be a plumber.  The others haven’t a clue what they’ll do next.

These are not tape-ops, wannabes or bluffers.  They are top professional who have produced or engineered chart albums.

I hope the grass is greener in their chosen pastures.  At least they see some grass upon which to graze.  Sadly, the modern recording industry resembles the Kalahari Desert, a vast expanse of nothingness stretching out beyond the horizon, broken only by an occasional mirage of deceit in the form of record companies offering promises, promises, promises.  Payment will be rendered if the record sells.   But when and if and maybe don’t put bread on the table or pay the rent.

Talent is unique, experience hard-earned.  It takes years of slog to hone skills that can be consigned to the scrap-heap in the flicker of an eyelid.  And when that happens, our industry is impoverished.

On the other side of the balance sheet, there are tens of thousands of young hopefuls studying for Music Technology degrees.  For what?  Twenty-seven grand of long term debt?  Where is the work?  Are these dreamers told that prospects don’t exist?  Those few who do find gainful employment usually teach. We therefore have the ludicrous situation where students rely on lecturers, whose only experience is having studied the same course, perpetuating myths, magnifying bookish misconceptions, substituting theory for common sense

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe that you can learn how to make records in a classroom, any more than you can read up on how to fly a jumbo jet.   Unless you get airborne and have flown sufficient miles, no airline in their right mind would let you near a cockpit and neither would Ryan Air.  Even a qualified pilot will often spend a decade assisting before being allowed to twiddle his joystick unaided.  Why, then, should anyone assume that a couple of years spent messing with Logic and a Soundcraft Spirit desk can qualify the Mu-Tech graduate to teach, let alone produce a professional session?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for education.  There are some first rate courses on offer, such as Tonmeister at Surrey University.  What rankles is the implication that a recording degree qualifies the holder for a job.  It doesn’t. Recording isn’t like plumbing or bricklaying.  It’s an art, a combination of talent and experience.

Making records is alchemy, not cookery.

So the question that I ask my retiring friends is not why they are leaving the record industry, but rather, why did the industry leave them?

Eccentric

 

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eccentric, the record production blog

Like most of us, I go through phases of lunching out in front of the television or radio after a gruelling day at work.

As a news junkie, I tend to turn on current affairs programmes and let the world wash by. I’ve always been blessed by an innate cynicism but lately my scepticism has been justified by what I can only describe as an increasing incidence of audio fraud.

I’m not talking about the kind of trickery used by talent shows like X-factor. Ever since the introduction of crude echo and reverb, live performances have been sweetened, justifiably in my opinion. Given a choice between an out of tune performance and a touch of autotune, my long-suffering ears would much prefer the latter. And in that I’m no fan of the froth and trivia of Simon Cowell’s money making schemes, a touch of audio wibbly-wobbly-woo doesn’t madly bug me. No, my concerns are all together more far reaching.

In recent months I’ve been alarmed to hear interviews conducted on one television or radio station reappearing at a different time elsewhere. But these are not repeats. They profess to be ‘live’, ‘real-time’ interviews but conducted by different interviewers. The answers are identical even though there is sometimes an altogether different slant to the question.

It’s an easy stunt to pull in this digital age. The interview is stored on a hard disc, the answers logged as sound-bytes and the questions scripted for any number of presenters to apply their own amusing/insightful/clever slant. Questions are then ‘asked’ as if the interview is live, and the engineer pushes ‘go’ in the control room to fire back the relevant pre-recorded answer.

This is Brave New World stuff, a legacy of 1984. We are presented with fiction as if it was real. And what is worrying is that the line between creative presentation and truth is being blurred. I’ve heard this trick perpetrated at least a dozen times. Interviews with A or B or C are repeated with different presenters asking a variation of the same question to a pre-recorded answer. But now we’re nudging into more worrying territory as the actual questions are being modified, which of course puts a totally different slant on the answer. In short, rather than reporting the news, I fear that certain stations (including the BBC) are fabricating it, applying an interviewee’s answers to questions a million miles removed from the one that he or she was actually answering.

If we can no longer trust the veracity of the media, how can we make considered decisions about the world in which we live? If fiction is presented as fact, we are indeed entering the world of Big Brother, George Orwell stylee rather than Channel Five ‘reality’ pap.

And here’s the crux… ‘reality’ has become the most abused word in the media dictionary. It now refers to an edited, polished, manipulated version of a truth that often only ever existed in the minds of a team of scriptwriters. But for this fiction to permeate the objectivity of our daily news casts doubt upon the integrity we need.

If, as an audio engineer, you are asked to apply your skills to manipulating reality in such a way, please ask questions. Is this really so far removed from the practices of former Eastern European regimes that we despise so intensely?

Surely, if an interview is worthy of repetition, we should demand both questions and answers rather than accepting fabricated questions that allow a presenter or editor to doctor replies in a form to suit a different agenda from the original broadcast?

As audio technicians, we have a crucial role to play to guard the integrity of our media.

Please…

Eccentric

 

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eccentric - the recording industry blogger tells it how it is

Some months ago, I was travelling on the Paris Metro during the rush hour. Needless to say, the carriage was as packed as a proverbial can of escargot in garlic sauce.   I stood amongst the commuting throng, grateful to have eked out a spare nanometre of space.

Directly opposite me sat a rather fetching mademoiselle, long brown hair and hazel eyes, eyes I realised were staring directly at me.  I straightened my back and stood as tall as the clickety-clack of the crowded train would allow.  I smiled.  She smiled sweetly back.  ‘Ah, Paris,’ I thought.  ‘The city of romance.  With luck, I could be in for a little entente cordiale.’

She beckoned with her eyes, ‘come hither.’  I took a step towards her. And then…

She stood up and offered me her seat.

That’s when I realised I was getting old. And it made me think…   I started making records in an age when computers occupied the spare room, when the fastest means of communication was the Telex machine, when mobile phones and the Internet were just fantasies in an outlandish sci-fi novel.  Remember the computer in ‘2001, A Space Odyssey’?  Evil, manipulative and sinister though HAL was, I doubt that he could beat my iPhone in a game of chess, despite being crammed into two acres of heavy metal cupboards.

Over the last few years, Technology has moved faster than Linford Christie on speed.  I regard myself as privileged to work with a bunch of talented young engineers, but they regard me as a dinosaur.  For the life of me, I have no idea why.  Maybe it’s because I handed a client a guitar lead when he asked for a plug-in.  Or could it be because I told the same puzzled punter that all my software was at the launderette?  Who can tell?   For some reason my colleagues strive to keep me at arm’s length from anyone who might matter, wheeling me out on my Zimmer Frame to spout forth to gaggles of SAE students about the golden age of wax cylinders that I used to track on in my youth, or rather, in my middle age.  And if Josh calls me ‘Granddad’ one more time, he may feel a bony hand across his backside, if I can muster the energy without mainlining a vial or two of Sanatogen.

So what is the point of my senile ramblings?

It’s easy to take technology for granted.  Progress can be beneficial, but only as a means to an end rather than an end in itself.  All too often I encounter a belief that technology can deal with problems later down the line.  So what if the drums don’t sound too good… we’ll edit and eq them in the mix.  And if the singer doesn’t cut it on the take, we’ll track a hundred vocals and choose one when we do the edit. Harmonise and add some varipitch, then compress, and we’ll be all right on the night.  But hey, guys and gals, you’re missing the point.  All these new-fangled gizmos and gadgets should be an aid to creativity rather than a substitute.  Even though my old mate HAL could fly unwitting hostages to Mars and back, he wasn’t capable of synthesising an emotional performance, let alone tuning a guitar without a helping human hand.

In any form of music, the performance must take precedence.  By all means, tune an occasional note in what is otherwise a perfect take. And cut and paste or loop a killer fill, but please – let’s get the drums sounding great before we start to fuck about.

None of this is new.  Back in the old days, when Tyrannosaurus Rex roamed the recording studio (the beast, not the band), that killer drum fill would be spun onto another tape, the master spliced and then the copy cut back in.  The not-quite-top-C would be sharpened with an AMS or by varispeeding the multitrack, then bounced back and forth between two machines.  None of these patch-ups are new, merely easier with digital recording rigs.

But please, please, please don’t substitute technology for craft.

Eccentric

 

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eccentric, the record production blog

A friend popped in for a chat today.

Bob is amongst the best studio maintenance techs in the business. For years he kept one of the top facilities in Europe running day and night, churning out hits with hardly a technical blip.  He can strip down an SSL and rebuild it blindfolded but prefers to do the job with his eyes open to make sure that he fits the right parts.  Now a freelance, his clients rely upon him to maintain gear that originally cost millions of pounds. In other words, he has the kind of skills that can’t be learnt in class or bluffed from books.

These days he’s lucky to earn as much in a week as a cowboy plumber nets in a day, swapping washers on a two-quid tap.

One of Bob’s regular clients recently demanded that he drop his hourly rate to the same as I pay my cleaner, cash in hand. Apparently the studio wasn’t pulling in much work.  Savings had to be made.  Of course, the studio owner (Mister Big) could have called London Electricity or British Telecom and demanded a price reduction.  ‘Cut your costs or I’ll go elsewhere – install a windmill and buy a couple of carrier pigeons’, – or,  he could have asked his landlord to slash the rent and requested the local council to reduce their charges.  Alternatively, he could increase the studio rates.

Fat chance.

When times get tough, it’s the little guys who get squeezed between monopoly suppliers and penny-pinching customers.  If something has to give, it’s invariably the staff.  So what if maintenance becomes an afterthought, investment goes on the backburner and the services of a skilled recording engineer are passed over in favour of a college intern prepared to do sessions for half a peanut and a glass of water?

The constant excuse is that nobody buys records any more.

Ever wondered why?  Have you listened to the dross being churned out by the industry these days?  I wouldn’t give most of it the time of day so I’m not surprised that nobody else does.  Remember, if it sounds like a turkey, squawks like a turkey and minges like a turkey, it probably is a turkey.

Meanwhile, we inhabit an industry where skilled recording engineers are being asked to provide their services for love, not money.  But as far as the mainstream industry is concerned, there’s less and less left for them to love.

We can only fight declining record sales by investing in our art, and that means maintaining production values by investing in facilities and talent.  Key to the future are the recording engineers and technicians who oil the wheels behind the desk.

Or in Bob’s case, under it.

Eccentric

 

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Can an old dog learn new tricks?

 

I was first credited on a chart album in 1981, Roy Harper’s ‘Work Of Heart’. Thirty years later, my name continues to crop up on the occasional release, most recently in the small print on albums by Nerina Pallot and Kate Bush.

Of course, I am not worthy but I’m nevertheless honoured to be mentioned in the same breath as such talented artists. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. Far from it. I’ll gladly take the credit when it’s offered even if it isn’t strictly due.

I was an innocent abroad when a series of accidents tossed me into the Executive Producer’s chair with Roy. I could not have been more naïve. The task seemed simple – oversee the writing of an album’s worth of stonking songs, demo them to cut the crap, seek out great musicians, routine, arrange and pre produce, enlist the services of talented producers and engineers (in this case John Leckie and David Lord), book studios and accommodation and…bingo, slam down the tracks and mix. Oh, and incidental to the main event, I had to raise the dosh, organise the artist’s label, sort out distribution and sponsorship (fifty grand from Maxell tapes), get the product into the stores and have the record voted album of the year (in Music Week and The Sunday Times). Simple, logical, obvious. Common sense.

Despite three decades of technological innovation, these creative principles remain the same…make a damned good album, market it well, get it in the shops (or online) and it’ll sell. A, B, C, with a smidgeon of D, E and F thrown in for good measure.

Why, then, does the process of recording and production still fascinate me so much?

Because we live in different musical times. New challenges confront us daily.

More of which anon…

Eccentric

 

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