How did you "learn" to produce a record?
We did an album in '92 called Scavenger [Sub Pop] and it was the first time where we really hired a bona fide outside producer, this guy named Gary Smith from Boston. He had done the Throwing Muses, and I learned an enormous amount from him. He was actually a "producer", and unlike a lot of people who carry that title around, he did more than just sit in the control room and collect his paycheck. Gary wasn't an engineer either, which was actually kind of an interesting introduction to producing because the first real producer I worked with wasn't an engineer. I think what I learned from Gary was the ability to organize recording sessions and create atmospheres. The other thing I learned from him was [how] everyday you have to have as much enthusiasm about the project as the artist, if not more. I would say in the early days as a songwriter and one of the singers I clearly had production ideas, but I don't think I would consider myself a full-on co-producer in The Walkabouts until around '93. I really felt that guy cared as much about the album as we did, which I thought was a really remarkable feat. I had never worked with an engineer up to that point, as good as some of the guys I had worked with were, [whom I felt] came into it with that level of commitment. After we had worked with him, I think that all of The Walkabouts, to some extent, developed some "producing chops", 'cause we really saw how this side of things worked.
In 1987 when you and I worked together, you brought in your whole posse — Ed [Brooks], Tony [Kroes]...
Yeah, exactly. That was part of the whole thing, you know? I still do that as a producer. It depends on the project. It really varies. You know, the producer in the classic '60s sense of the term was really the guy who organized the session. You read about these classic guys like Bob Johnston who did Simon and Garfunkel, Dylan and Leonard Cohen — his name's on all those projects — but was he actually doing an amazing amount of work shaping the sound? No, he wasn't. He was really bringing this engineer, these backup musicians, [that] string arranger. He was making a lot of those decisions, and really believing and trusting in the people [assembled] and then going from there. And some projects I've been involved in, that's really the role I've played. I don't feel that I can just be a producer for hire — it's more than just liking the music. I have to look at the project and say, "It's not that they need me, but I could be useful here." If it's just going to be me sitting in a room for a month and making the occasional comment, I wouldn't do it. I try to listen to the band's previous material and say, "This needs to be a reaction against that in this [particular] way." I try to formulate an overall vision and usually it's not something I'm imposing on anyone. They've come to me. So they have a sense that I'm going to create the right atmosphere. I always tell people that — I don't want this to sound arrogant — but [I tell them] if I'm going to do it I need to feel it's a situation where ultimately I'm going to be allowed to be the producer. That's really important, or else there's really no point in me being there, you know? If the band can do it themselves or the band and the engineer can do it themselves, what's the point in hiring me? My name as a credit on the CD is not worth that much. [laughs] I also have to feel like I can make suggestions about [things like] what kind of instrumentation we use. I never ultimately impose a hard stamp on anything, but I have to have the freedom to suggest what I feel like suggesting, 'cause that's why they're bringing me in.
And do you have an idea in your head of how the record should sound sonically?
It depends. I think [with] some projects it's more clear than others. When you're dealing with an album that's like fifteen days [to record], you have to develop that sense almost immediately, if not have some sort of an articulation going on in your head even before you do it. But if it's a two-month album, I think you have the freedom to let a lot of things determine that as it goes along. I'd much rather do it the second way, to be honest. Like any kind of creative act, I think what happens in the accidents are often the most genius things. And sometimes the accidents become the fundaments very quickly, you know? And if you have enough time and spontaneity built into the project you can really seize on those things.
Are you still deferring to the engineer as far as mic choice, mic placement, whether to throw baffles up, how to set the band up?
As far as how to set the band up in the room, I would say [with] any project I'm very involved in that. Suggestions about mic placement, it depends on who I'm working with. If I'm working with Phill Brown we don't really talk too much about that. The Phill vibe, something that I think he and I both agreed upon even when we started working [together] was: Set up the room to work. Get everything going. I mean, the first day, everything. When we did this Walkabouts project, Trail of Stars, at Paradise Studios, they ran out of cables, everything, on the first day. [laughter] It wasn't like, "Now we're going to do basics, and then we're going to do overdubs." We had everything set up for all possibilities. From weird ambient mic'ing, to every single instrument in that room had a microphone in some way. Once you get going you want to have the freedom to walk in and just hit something and hope that it's ready to go. But, that said, the great thing about Phill or someone that comes from that sensibility is that he's not precious about anything, either. If something needs to be ripped down and set up he'll just go do it. I remember one time on a Midnight Choir session we decided we would mic the grand piano, and run it through a Fender Twin Reverb, with a tremolo on it full volume. And it took quite a lot of set up. I don't even think we used the track or the song, we probably spent two hours banging around on this thing, but it didn't somehow work. It's all part of the process. Sometimes it's funny what doesn't work.
How does your experience as a songwriter and musician affect the choices you make when producing a band?
Let's just back up a little bit. To be a producer that doesn't engineer I believe you have to more than justify your presence in that control room. There's got to be a reason to have you there. Most of the time it's perfectly reasonable to create wonderful records with a band and an engineer that is playing that swing position of engineer/producer. I've done two records I'm extremely proud of with Victor Van Vugt. He's an engineer/producer, clearly. And when Phill worked with The Walkabouts he worked as a co- producer/engineer. So I think a lot of what I bring is in the pre-production, even before I meet with the band, like talking about song selection, and really thinking in terms of what songs are we gonna record, having a visual idea to some extent of what songs balance the record. And then of course once you're in the studio the whole idea of arrangement, having a sense of what makes a song work. There's no objective truth when it comes to that but that's one of the things I think people hire me for is to try to help them sort that out.
Should the production be a vehicle for the song, or vice versa?
Well I don't think there's a rule about that. I love a lot of music where the production is [like it is in] dub music. Where we have actually made the song disappear. The song no longer is the focus; it's the production that's the focus. So, I think there are as many answers for that as there are types of music. But I think with almost everything I've worked on I tend to try to make the production a vehicle for the song. The kind of bands I've worked with, up to this point, tend to be very organically based. Most of what I've done we always start recording live, as a unit. I mean, I absolutely insist [on the band playing live]. This is not debatable with me. We have to have a studio that's capable of doing that or it's not a project I will be involved in. But it's not because I think there's only one way to make a record. [It's] where I come from. They need to find someone else to make that other kind of record.
There's an amazing consistency in the latter day Walkabouts records, almost as if you've "found" your sound.
I think there's a feeling that we try to have small revolutions. Probably only we notice. We're the only people at the revolution. [laughs] We were signed to Sub Pop for the longest time and we sounded like a baroque string quartet compared to everything else [on the label]. I think we did feel this pressure to somehow be a rock band. I think when we left that whole Sub Pop fold finally, even the European side of it around '95, we just said, "This is really time for a fresh start." And it coincided with us signing to Virgin. Suddenly we were on a major label and we could afford to [record with strings]. We'd always been really crazy about stuff like Nick Drake and Love, and a lot of music that had strings, not just to sweeten things, but to actually add that undercurrent of melancholy. Strings can speak in many voices, [like] surprise, and to give you a sense of something ominous. I think they get a very bad rap as being something that's just sort of added.
So you've had sessions with different string sections. Single violin player here and there, to quartets, to [sixteen pieces]. What are some of your experiences?
