How did you learn to record?
Asger: I started with Fruity Loops, but the version I had couldn't record anything, so it was a complete fail. I just was completely blank about where to go from there. Then I got a copy of Cubase, but every time I recorded something, it went out of sync. I was really feeling like, "This just can't be done. It's impossible to record on a computer." I searched the Internet to see what everyone else used. Everybody was saying, "Pro Tools is the way to go." That's how I ended up with Pro Tools, but I guess it could have been Logic just as well. All I know was Cubase was not working for me, but it was probably just some setting.
So it was luck of the draw that Pro Tools won. What were you trying to record?
A: Myself. I'd recorded in studios before that, both to tape and to hard drive, but I wanted to record my own music, and I wanted to do a lot of layering, things that were really tricky or interesting, where I could be multitracking myself.
Being your own band.
A: In a way, but I also liked the idea of doing spontaneous arrangements, then editing afterwards. My brain isn't good at, "Okay, the song is in this key, and chords should progress this this, and then I'll make an arrangement from these voicings." I don't work like that. It's more like, "Yeah, I think I hear this melody." Or, "This could be good." Then I take it from there. It's really hard to write many parts if you can't record yourself, so this was my ticket to making big arrangements. I'd always played guitar, but my main instrument was violin. I started when I was 14, which, like, ten years too late.
Iris: For a violinist it is, yeah.
A: You usually start between four and six years old if you want to be good at classical music, but I caught on really fast. I feel a connection with this instrument that I haven't felt with guitar, piano or anything else. I considered making a living out of playing music, which hadn't occurred to me before. My family is musical, but not professionally. I went to a music conservatory school, but I looked at where people went when they were done with the program. They became music teachers, people who played like club music...
I: ...wedding players.
A: Yeah, those were the careers those people got, and it wasn't something I wanted. I thought, "Only one out of ten thousand people can get paid playing, or recording, and it's not going to be me, so I might as well just forget it!" So I studied political science with the hope of get a "good job." At some point some friends asked if I could record a demo of some acoustic stuff, and I said sure. I thought it would be fun. Then things kind of grew from there. We started having bands come in to our attic apartment. We started having bands with drums and it got a bit interesting with the neighbors of course. We'd say to the drummer, "You can play for half an hour, and that's it!"
"Quick, play! She's going to the grocery store!"
A: Yeah, and also the neighbors wouldn't come and complain, because it was like, "What's that noise, what's that noise?" but then after half an hour, it was gone. So of course we couldn't keep this up for very long. Iris told me that I should find a place. I'd been looking at this forum called www.johnlsayers.com. It's like Gearslutz, except it's just for people who build studios. I'd been down in this part of town a few times rehearsing with bands. It's packed with rehearsal spaces, architects, and design companies. The city owns these buildings, so I just asked them if there were any available spaces. We were looking a small place, but we ended up finding this one. It's pretty big, and expensive, but a good deal for this part of town — three minutes walk to the central train station, five minutes to the central bus station, and downtown is right over there. So what was just going to be a hobby would need to be something more to make the money work. We decided to also make a rehearsal space for our band, and others, and I committed to picking up more sessions.
To make it workable.
A: So I made a budget, and I talked with a carpenter about how much drywall and all the materials would cost.
I: You kind of blew the budget, though.
A: Oh yeah, I only added 20 percent for unforeseen expenses. I figured, "Oh that will be more than enough." It ended up costing twice what I budgeted.
I: [laughs] Really? It was that much? You never told me how much exactly!
You stop counting at a certain point...
A: I realized when I signed the contract, and started building, I couldn't stop! I had to continue, otherwise I'd be financially ruined. It was stressful thinking too much about the expenses. This was in 2007, just before the big economic crisis, so the bank was like, "Yeah, sure, here's a hundred thousand kroner [$16,500], and more if you want it. Go ahead, knock yourself out!" That was pretty lucky. It was an open space, so we put in walls, and made a room-within-a room. We started out with the intention of keeping it within our circle of friends, but it just took off and kept growing! I started having others come in to do projects. We have four engineers now. I didn't plan on this turning out to be what I'd do for a living.
Did you have a day job that you quit?
A: In Denmark, the government pays you money to study, so I had that kind of security. Additionally, I had a consultant job on the side to earn money for start up expenses. I knew I couldn't just borrow all of it. That would be too much, so I had to also earn some money. Then the economy changed, there were no jobs, and the studio was going quite well, so it was like, "Well, okay then..." That's how it went: no master plan, no ambition about doing this for a living. Of course we worked hard, but it would have been so unrealistic to make this our goal, even though this is where we ended up.
Iris, did you have a background in engineering?
I: Well, I tried early on. I had Cubase, when I was 17, for the same reasons: recording my own stuff. I never really got the hang of Cubase though, and didn't try recording for a long time after that. I started out as a classical violinist, which is a different kind of musician. You don't get to play around as much with things. You're not taught to be as curious about things as you would be if you played rhythmic or modern music. Then I met Asger and it was all downhill from there! [both laugh] It was an eye-opener — "Okay, it's actually possible to do this!" Then I just started to play with his equipment. Wait, that sounds wrong... [laughter] We started playing more live music, and I ventured away from classical music and experimenting with Ableton Live, which is great for arranging and writing. I like to play around with pieces of songs, keyboard, and string parts, and say "Okay, what could I do with this?" Then put something on top of that. Ableton is great for that.
How did you two meet, by the way?
I: Well, it depends on who tells the story, I guess. Asger likes to tell it like I was I groupie!
A: No... that's not true!
I: He was playing in a band with a guy who was dating my friend. She wanted to go to this concert with them. I was sick that day, and I told her, "You know what, I don't want to go to that concert. Why don't you just go by yourself? I mean, it's your boyfriend, and you don't need me there." But she wanted me there, so I went. The band was playing in a small, horrible place. I don't remember much of the concert, because I was really sick. I was just sitting there with a scarf, sneezing, and my then my friend said, "Hey, this is Asger, and he plays the violin too!" I didn't pick up on any hints, you know? He was like, "Oh, I need a classical violinist to play in something I'm recording, and I can't play classical music myself."
Pretty smooth pickup line.
I: Yeah, but I didn't get that. I was just like, "Okay! I can help you out. That's fine, sure."
A bit too smooth, I guess.
I: Yeah.
A: She really didn't get it! [everyone laughs]
I: Then he was like, "If you help me out, I can make you dinner!" and I still didn't get it. Then for some reason I just asked if he wanted to go to this metal concert before the dinner.
A: We met up at the show. We were folk dancing around, while these huge, badass people were pissed off that we were just having fun at the metal concert. Then it was back to my place and, "Oh, here's the dinner I made for you, and lots of wine!" Iris said, "Well I can't play so well if I've had too much wine." I'm like, "What? You're not going to play tonight." She was like, "No? Wait... what?"
"Well it was really nice meeting you. See you around..."
I: I sort of got the hint afterwards that he really wasn't that interested having me play on the stuff, but that was okay.
So how did you two start playing together in the same music projects?
I: It came naturally because it's so common having a string section or having string harmonies, which requires more than one player. As things progressed, I'd say 98 percent of the time we played together. It was less about always being together and more about people thinking, "Oh, that's really cool. We have a string section now." It's been practical in the studio, and live, because we know each other so well. We have different roles musically, and we're good at knowing what the other person will do, so we can be spontaneous. It learned how to jam, and not need a piece of sheet music in front of me. After we played with a couple of bands, then people would see us and say, "Okay, that looks like that works."
"...and I need a string section."
I: Exactly.
"...and I'll cook you dinner."
[both laugh]
I: Yeah. It's been a learning process thinking, "Okay, now we are together in this context not as a couple, but as musicians in a band." Of course, you can't really separate it totally, but we've had to find a balance.
How did you ultimately end up playing with Giant Sand?
I: I'm Danish, but I was born in Tucson. We go back often, and once I just went alone to visit my mom. I went to the Chicago Music Store in Tucson, and I met this guy called Sergio Mendoza. I was checking out the vintage gear, and he asked what was I doing in town. We started talking, and he said, "Next time you come back, come play with us!" So we did.
A: We played a couple of concerts with his band, which included Brian Lopez on guitar, who was coming over to Europe to play on a bill with Howe [Gelb] and Giant Sand, in Berlin. For the fun of it, we thought, let's just drive down to Berlin and hang out, and play with him. We did, and Howe said, "Well, you should play with us, too." Actually, he just said, "Stick around for the second half of our concert. Just make sure you're close to the stage."
I: At first he said we'd go over things at soundcheck, but with Giant Sand, you never end up going over things at soundcheck [laughs], and you just end up improvising. "Soundcheck" is people just playing and messing around with pedals. The poor front-of-house guy... I guess Howe liked what we did, which was improvising on stage in front of 1,200 people. So Giant Sand had a concert in Switzerland later, that Fall, and he wrote us and said, "Would you guys like to come along?" It was this odd festival where we stayed at a five-star hotel for three or four days, though we were only playing one concert. It was really nice.
You thought "Okay, I could do this...."
A: This is touring? Well, okay!
I: He booked a tiny studio in Switzerland, and we all went there to record and to see what would pan out. Two songs from that session ended up on the Tucson album.
You ended up in Tucson with Craig Schumacher at Wavelab, right?
A: With Chris. Craig was really tied up arranging the TapeOpCon.
I: But the thing is, Tucson was done in several parts. Some had been done in Switzerland. After that, half of the band was in Tucson recording, and half of the band, which is Danish, was here at our place. I was very pregnant, so we had to knock it out fast.
