You started at New Alliance in Boston, right? That's when you were playing in Slughog...
Indeed. I was the asshole in the band who had to bring the 4-track to every practice and make sure that every mic was set up. Then I bought an Otari MX- 5050 8-track. That was my portable rig that I would bring around to all the bands' practice spaces in Boston. Then I started interning at New Alliance — Slughog owed the studio some money. This is actually how I got into it. We were broke. I was like, "Dudes, we're good people but we have no money. What can I do?" I interned for about a year and then started bringing in bands. I got my first official staff engineer job there in 1994. At some point it clicked that I could actually do this as a living. [Eventually] I took over as head engineer — the owner [Andrew Murdock, a.k.a. Mudrock] had made a couple of big records, moved out to L.A., and put me in charge. As head engineer I tried real hard to focus that studio more on the music that I liked. I brought in bands like Old Man Gloom, Converge and Cave In.
Then you moved to New York and opened your own room.
I moved down here in 2003. I tried to be freelance for a while, and I had work from around the country, as well as internationally. But studio prices in NYC versus indie budgets — it didn't line up, even before the collapse of the economy. It made sense for me to have some sort of home base. I set up the first Translator Audio in Williamsburg as a small mix room. I've moved at the end of every lease. [laughs] This is number three — we'll see what happens in three and a half years.
Do you find that your sessions are getting shorter? Cheaper?
Budgets are definitely down. Sessions are a little shorter. I've had to be a little bit savvier on how to make a record and still have something that we're all proud of in the end.
That's a challenge. Even if somebody's trying to talk you down on your rate they still want your best work.
It's not just in terms of the band and budget, but also for me personally — I don't want to put out something that I'm not proud of. I'm an art school kid. I approach records that way. So if budgets are down by maybe a third, what is it in my process that has to change to make sure that I'm still doing work that I'm proud of, and that the bands are proud of?
Can you quantify some of those process changes?
There are ways in which I'll work extra — I'll put in a couple long days or I'll say, "For this mix to work just leave me alone for a day. You don't have to pay for it. I just want to do it so I know I'm set and then we can go." Also you become pretty savvy at scheduling, and understanding what you can realistically do in the amount of time.
So maybe you won't go looking for the perfect clean guitar tone for one little part.
That's right. Something I've been wrestling with a lot — and I'm not 100 percent sure of my own philosophy — but the whole idea of spending three years on a record, and trying to make the perfect record, is ridiculous in today's disposable culture of downloading music and downloading songs instead of full records. People will talk about King of Limbs until the next Radiohead record comes out — there are a few records like that. But, for the most part, from a music lover's point of view, the investment in a record is so much shorter than it used to be. So I've been trying to change my whole thought process. I've been into trying to make things move faster, and not letting people invest too much in the "perfect" anything. Perfect records are boring records anyway.
That's the funny part. Rock records, especially.
With recording strategies these days the ability to make the perfect album is there so easily, if you have the time to do it. I look back at all the records I love and what I love about them — it's always the fucked up moments, not the perfect ones. Then you think about records that wouldn't have been made today because the mindset wasn't there; like Locust Abortion Technician by the Butthole Surfers. That's my ultimate example. That record is broken from the second the needle goes down until the end of the last song. There is nothing "right" about that record. Even if they were in the same mindset, I don't think it would be made today because the process is so different. The first Sonic Youth record — there was no super musicianship there. That record never would've happened if somebody was like, "Oh, you guys aren't quite up to snuff, compared to other bands. Therefore I am going to replace this." Imagine if Bob Bert's drumming was lined up. Jesus Christ... Speeding up my process and not letting myself get bogged down helps force some of that to happen. There are always discussions with the bands — it's obviously a real personal decision as to what's a good fuck up and what's just a fuck up. But if you push things along don't let yourself get mired in this idea of perfection you'll make a better record anyway. What makes this work is guiding the artists through to getting the right performances. I try really hard with the bands that I am recording to make it come from them. I know this sounds basic, but I also know a lot of people think they will just fix stuff later. In vocals, for instance, I try to make sure the pitch, the delivery, building up of tension, release and vibe all comes from their performance. Same with the drummer — working on consistency, tempo and vibe. This is the stuff that makes those timeless records timeless. It isn't in the technology as much as it is in the performance.
Along similar lines — looking around your room, it's a respectably modest set of gear. If you read Internet forums, they're all about gear, gear, gear. And, of course, lots of engineers are on a never-ending upgrade cycle. It doesn't look like that's your style.
Tape Op interviewed the guys at Hi-n-Dry Studios [Tom Dube, #62] a couple of years ago and that one quote: "I want to make better music with what I have" — that was cool. I definitely have what I need. There are times where I would love to have more. You can easily be caught up in the gear whirlwind, especially with plug-ins. I'm trying to get away from using plug- ins right now. I hear presets everywhere on the radio, or when I buy records. I don't fly a flag just for tape, or just for Pro Tools, but right now I want to get away from things that have presets. I've been trying to limit myself in ways that will make cool and unique results. I recently set up a system where I can bump up levels for a bunch of stompboxes so I can do something that's gonna sound different from everything I hear. The decision to do that came from going back and listening to old records I did before using Pro Tools. I heard a bunch of places I went to that I would have not gone to a couple of years ago with a screen in front of me.
How do you like your Harrison 3624 console?
This thing's an old beater. There's a reason why there's not a lot of them around anymore — because they're not made well. [laughs] But they sound great. I wanted a medium-sized console that had a large format sound that was also good for tracking and mixing. I started doing some research on these Harrison consoles and I fell in love with them. It's a transformer-based console — I wanted to steer away from as many [IC] chips as I could. Other than the automation stuff (which has been totally disconnected) the signal path is remarkably simple, which is always my go-to philosophy for any pure signal chain. My [tracking] signal chain is usually very, very simple. I do microphone to preamp to input. I don't compress much going in. I definitely don't like to EQ then. That's all in the mix for me.
I notice you have almost no outboard EQ in your racks.
I don't. I EQ on the board a lot. Compression is always something that I've loved, and I have a bunch of nice mic preamps.
So, since you mix on the board without automation — when you're mixing records where somebody sends you tracks from Europe, you'll have to do revisions over the Internet. Do you wait for one song to get approved before doing the next one?
Yeah.
Wow, so if there're ten songs and a one day turnaround for feedback...
Well, we work to schedule listening times on purpose. I'll say, "I'll have this song done by [my] dinnertime, and I'll email it to you. You tell me what you want." By the time I'm done eating I have a page of notes. I do that and send it to them.
It forces decision-making.
Yeah, people can get into endless lists of revisions. Or, maybe on song nine, they say, "I'm listening to song one and I didn't really think about it before, but my kick drum could be little louder..."
Sorry, no it can't!
[laughs] "You didn't say that eight days ago!" I do stem out pretty intensively on mixes. I started doing that a while ago. I don't like to use stems, but knowing they're there is great in this process. Once every couple of records it'll save some situation. It's never quite the same, but it has definitely saved me.
Your mixes consistently have this richness in the low-mids. Can you explain how you get that?
I come from a history of playing bass. That was the thing that got the most neutered amongst a lot of loud, heavy recordings. Maybe that's in the back of my mind — I'm the dude who's gonna bring the bass guitar back to rock recording!
Do you do a lot of carving to make low- end work?
Nope. I think it just naturally happens. I don't think there's anything specific, in terms of me focusing on that area. When mixing, I do try to find the sweet spot on the console's master section. If you push the output section too hard and things start to saturate too much, that big and open low end goes away. In terms of bass [guitar] in particular, for people who use a lot of distortion, the "scoop" button is a bad mistake. Having some amount of low to midrange information on the bass — you'll never end up hearing it, but it's what your ears connect to when you listen to a mix. Then you feel the low end, so it feels like there's bass down low. I keep a lot of midrange information on the bass, and on detuned guitars as well.
Where? Maybe 400 Hz to 1 kHz?
