Tell me a little about your latest musical project, Angels of Light. How did Angels Of Light come together? How is it different than your other musical endeavors?
The first project I did after disbanding Swans in 1997 was a very complicated soundtrack-without-a-film piece called The Body Lovers. It incorporated 24-track mixes of instrumentals, as well as unmixed material; bass/drum grooves that were later looped, guitar fragments, etc., from those same sessions, to ancient — from 1982 or so — tape loops and synthesizer drones, to hand-held cassette recordings (also ancient), found sounds, to more recent patches of live Swans recordings, and also a series of non-structured sounds and fragments I'd solicited from various friends like Pan Sonic, Deathprod, Origami Republika and Bill Rieflin. So I had all this material, most of it completely unrelated and recorded over a span of 15 years, and much of it had been sitting in a trunk in a basement this whole time, and I set myself the impossible task of figuring out how to make it all work together somehow. I dumped all of it into a computer, using a mastering program called Sonic Solutions with my friend Chris Griffin in Atlanta, and just dug in, cross-fading, re- sampling pieces and flying them back in, overlaying one thing over another, sometimes recording additional material directly into the computer, letting the computer feed back sometimes as things were dumped in, then recording that, never giving any preference to something that was "professionally" recorded over the cruder material, just hacking and mangling away until the thing made some kind of musical — and "filmic" sense. It took forever and was mind numbing and exhausting, but in the end I think it's one of the best things I ever did. After that, I was fed up with the stress involved in such complex studio undertakings, so when I had enough songs for the first Angels album, I vowed to keep it simple — just acoustic guitar and voice with a few adornments here and there. I got a variety of musicians involved in the overdub stage mostly, and it just grew. One sound or instrument would imply the need for another, and before you know it, it was out of control, as usual! My biggest fault — or maybe an inverse virtue — is never knowing when to stop. In the end it was much different than the Swans' recordings though, in that most of the instruments used were traditionally "quiet" instruments, and my preoccupation wasn't so much with an overwhelming force of sound — more just trying to create a sort of visual context for the stories the words and voice told.
How much have you learned about recording and producing in your 20- odd years of making music?
Almost nothing technically about recording — intentionally! Well, I know how things work and what's possible, of course, but I have zero interest in the technical side of things. I'd rather tell someone else what I want, and let them figure it out. I've always had this sort of ridiculous self-confidence when I go into a studio, that just through force of will (and in the old days a lot of screaming and ranting at everyone involved) that I could make something happen sonically if I just pushed things enough. Often it worked, and sometimes didn't, in retrospect. Now I'm less maniacal, but I still enjoy the tension of being in a situation that's beyond my control — sometimes devolving into complete panic and chaos — and just being forced to wrangle it into shape. I enjoy the mistakes and random surprises that come from this way of working more than anything. As far as the production side of things goes, I think I've learned the importance of having the material worked out as much as possible in advance of going into the studio, but once there, to remain open to chance. Don't let your preconceptions about how things should be get in the way of new possibilities as they crop up. To me, the best thing is when things turn out completely different than how you've planned.
How has your interest in recording changed over the years? Are you more or less involved than when you first started out?
Oh, I'm more involved, having inevitably learned a few things, but I prefer working with competent people that make a daily business of getting good sounds, and then I'll push things in whatever direction is required from there. Still, "good sound" can be too precious, or fetishized. On a few songs, for instance, I've removed all bass frequencies and everything up to, say, 1 kHz from the drums, which made them sound far more interesting to me than a "proper" drum sound in the context of the song... Or, mic'ing the little broken speaker on a Casio keyboard instead of plugging it in direct, or recording the vocal into a hand-held cassette recorder and using that instead of, or along with, the more "properly" recorded vocal. Things like that. I'd never, ever, pushed "record" on a multitrack machine until a few years ago when I produced this band Ulan Bator in Italy, and was just forced to take over the recording aspect for a while, since after a few hours into the project the engineer proved to have no idea what he was doing. Later, in mixing, a more pro engineer got involved, thankfully. Still, getting the settings on a compressor, that kind of thing, remains beyond me. When it comes to technical things I'm just lazy, in the end. I keep promising myself I'm gonna get a little Pro Tools system here at home, but when I picture myself sitting in front of a computer alone, trying to make something meaningful happen with this dead, glowing thing, it just seems like it would be incredibly boring and lifeless, so I continue to avoid it.
Who are some of the folks you've worked with in the studio whose work ethic, technical or creative, you've respected?
Martin Bisi at BC Studios in Brooklyn. We once spent a week, working 16-hour days or so, mixing one four- minute song. I slept on the couch when we weren't working, and Martin would come down looking chipper and energetic at ten or eleven a.m. (he lives upstairs) and we'd just start again, working without a break until we collapsed. I don't think I left the building the entire time. I absolutely can't work this way anymore. I'd have a heart attack! I can't think of anyone [else] who's been so willing to just press forward until things sound right. Every time we work together he says something like, "Okay, we're only going 12 hours a day this time," before we start, then it's usually him that wants to go over, to finish things correctly.
What do you, functioning as a producer of your own works, strive for during pre-production and during the recording process?
Since I've pretty much abandoned the idea of sound manipulation as a way of making music, and am just concentrating on trying to write good songs on acoustic guitar, the first thing that has to be there is a song that has a power or reality on its own, completely naked, just the guitar and voice. It has to be good enough to be performed live like that to be convincing in itself. I'm talking about my own work here, of course, but it also applies in an obvious way to someone like Devendra Banhart (Tape Op #47 cover artist), whose second album we recorded. His first was done on handheld recorders or cassette 4-tracks. But even when working with a band per se, that's got to be there first. Often, working with a band, the first thing I try to do is to get them to get rid of their obvious influences, get them to think about another way to approach the song. This might be intrusive on my part, I guess, since sometimes the drummer ends up not playing on a song and plays something else instead, for instance. Then, the next step (in my own work anyway) is just starting to sort of daydream about where the song could go, thinking about instruments that might work in relation to the words, or often just thinking about specific musicians, their personalities and sensibilities, and just wanting them to be a "presence" on the song, or in the recording process in general. Often their "main" instrument isn't what ends up getting recorded. During the recording process the first thing is to have a credible performance or version of the basic song on tape, whether with acoustic guitar and voice, or with a basic version of the band I'm working with at the time, then to prod it and force it into some kind of atmosphere or picture that gives an evocative context for the voice and words, which are the most important elements, in the end — to me anyway. It's also important to me not to repeat myself from record to record. The last Angels album I finished, Everything Is Good Here/Please Come Home, was a horrible struggle in that regard. I'd been basically working with the same band for a few years, so when many of the songs were first recorded they had an immediate similarity to the previous record in terms of instruments used and the feel of the players. After thinking on it a while, I realized I had to push it in another direction, so I erased a lot of stuff, re-recorded things, wrote new songs and orchestrated them in a different way, from the acoustic guitar up. The initial performances by everyone were great, but it just seemed like more of the same, so they had to go, or at least mutate into a different area, so I did it. Unfortunately, it damaged a few friendships, but I don't see that I had any choice. My intent for the next record — writing songs for it now — is to use absolutely no drums, as a way of forcing myself to think of the songs differently when I orchestrate them. I have no idea what's going to come of it, but that's a good thing.
Structurally and sonically, what do you look for in a studio? How important is the equipment?
Well, I've made records in all kinds of situations, in high- end, stupidly expensive studios, and very low-end studios as well. Good equipment is fine, but sometimes being forced to make decisions based on limitations is a very good impetus to finding new ways to make something happen you wouldn't otherwise expect. More important to me than the gear is working with an engineer that has a good sensibility, a good ear, and is open to the idea of letting chance or disaster in through the door, and especially not getting stuck. I made what I think of as a good record with Dan Matz from Windsor For The Derby, just in his office with one microphone, his computer and whatever instruments each of us could play. Vintage gear, a Neve desk — all that stuff is great, but on the other hand, who the fuck cares how Robert Johnson was recorded, what gear was used? Or, in another world, I've been listening to a lot of Throbbing Gristle again lately, and that stuff sounds fantastic. Who cares what mics they used? People get really stuck with the idea of a "proper" way to get good sounds. For instance, the idea of close mic'ing each drum on a drum kit, then a couple of ambient mics. Sure, that sounds fine, but maybe it creates too many possibilities. Maybe just one mic would be a lot better.
Are there any specific devices or tools you truly love?
I don't own one anymore, because I threw it away along with several trunks full of samples after I did The Body Lovers, but an Akai S900 is to me a really useful tool. Simple, easy to use, low tech by today's standards. I like the backwards/forwards looping function as it makes looping really easy. I made an entire record with one of those [The Body Haters — an out of print companion piece to B'Lovers]. I had a few samples in it, and pounded away on a keyboard, changing the tuning, decay/release and the relative loudness of each sample to the other as I went, in real time, and recorded it directly to DAT. Later, I dumped that performance into Sonic Solutions and further messed with it, but that was basically it. I need to get another one of those, as I'm thinking of using simple loops again at times. Bill Rieflin and I used an S900 as a mic preamp on all the vocals on a solo album I did at his house in Seattle once — just kept it in record ready the whole time, and used it to boost the level. It also distorts nicely. Otherwise, I'm pretty indifferent to gear. Whatever's available, whatever sounds good. The most important thing is that a sound has a specific "character" and it doesn't matter how it's achieved.
You recently dived into the world of digital recording with Pro Tools. What was your experience with digital recording versus analog in terms of sonic quality, ease of use and the stigma?
I like it and I hate it. On one hand, it's good to be able to have the option to completely rearrange things, loop, extract sounds and place them wherever you want, etc. On the other hand, it's an incredibly tedious way to work, and having too many possibilities is really dangerous to the life of the music. But, like any tool, it's how you use it. I had just worked in Pro Tools on a few previous records, so when we went to record and mix the last Angels record completely analog with Martin, I found myself sort of subliminally terrified that I wouldn't be able to see the music on a screen. I think that's a little dangerous. As to its sound quality, I'm not bothered by it. If it sounds too clean or artificial you can always feed the sounds — or even the entire mix — out through analog gear, or even just a Fender Twin or something.
Did you do more editing or experimenation when you recorded digitally?
