For years I've thought about possibly interviewing a number of people who quit recording music for a living; people who had worked full time in studios and eventually decided that moving on to another career might be the best idea. Many times the people I've known in these scenarios still loved music — the reason they began recording in the first place — but were unhappy with the way work was going, whether it was the success or reception of the artists they worked with, the quality of the music they were recording, or simply not really digging the style of much of the music that came through the door. But recently I was emailing with an old friend and peer about his experiences:
"It was a really crushing realization to look back after eight years of being booked solid three to four months in advance, that most of the records I loved the most were completely dead. Bands had broken up; people stopped making music. And worse in some ways, they were all fine with it but I felt really sad. Those projects, that no matter how great you thought they were and how much promise the artists had (in part because of your work), when they grind to a halt, that's it. They aren't coming back, and apart from the lessons learned, the character building and friendship building, it kind of doesn't matter whether they ever happened or not. That's tough to swallow. For me that's almost my whole discography! I love what I do and am glad that I do it. That will never go away."
What are the rewards of recording music day in, day out? The music industry has always been frustrating. More music is produced each year than there is room to write about in magazines, play on the radio, use in films or (certainly) sell in stores and online. Look at these statistics from last year: