Tell me about The Ecology Rooms. What's with the name?
It's quite funny. This is where Lord Baden-Powell [founder of the Scout Movement/Boy Scouts] lived. Many international Scouts would come in the summer, camp and do activities. It's such a beautiful area — it literally is on top of the cliffs. Of the buildings that I took over, one of them was [called] The Ecology Rooms because it's where the scouts would learn about ecology. It's [still] The Ecology Rooms because of the sign outside. I couldn't be arsed to move the sign and I thought, "You know what? It's a cool name!" Some friends of ours bought the estate. I asked, "Have you got any rooms you don't want?" You couldn't ask for a better building for a recording studio. It was built during the Second World War and the roof is four-inch thick, poured, reinforced concrete. The walls are twelve inches thick. From a point of view of a solid structure, it's absolutely perfect. Then to boot, we have a crew lodge here where the Scout leaders used to stay, and that's where the bands get to stay. So they get to stay on site with all fifty acres of gorgeous scenery — three seconds from the studio.
That's a dream recording place!
Absolutely a dream, and really, really, reasonable.
It's a really unique name.
It is kind of organic here. If you can't play you ain't gonna sound any good in this place. I don't use Pro Tools as my main thing. Mixing consoles — valve console of course — decent microphones, a new [iZ Technologies] RADAR system and there you go. You play it, I record it. If you're out of time then we do it again 'til you're in time, likewise with the singers. People say that Pro Tools is gonna be this magic thing that saves us. It's just a recording platform. Anything that you can do on Pro Tools we could do before in an analog system, except we couldn't Auto-Tune something or put drums in time. Flange, phase, compression — there's all outboards of this [that] the plug-ins try to emulate. What the hell is the point of emulating them when I've got rackloads of this stuff? Unless you're willing to spend a gazillion bucks on [Pro Tools] with some decent A to D [converters], the word clocks and all the rest, it doesn't sound anywhere as good as RADAR or tape. Even when you spend all that money it doesn't sound as good. It doesn't mean to say you can't make great records on it, because amazing records have been done on all sorts of recording systems. It's not really about what you have — it's about how you approach everything, in my book. I just happen to prefer this system. I'm more hands-on with it, because I have to listen to stuff. I can't [say], "Oh, well I can tune it up." No. I have to [record] it in tune. The RADAR allows me to do all manner of things — levels up and down, cut, paste, whatever — which is fantastic. And the wonderful undo button so your drop-ins never mess up. I am such a huge fan of that recording platform.
Do you prefer to use digital as opposed to analog tape?
I actually prefer the sound of tape, to be honest, but because of the way the economy has become [musicians] can't afford the tape budget, never mind the studio these days.
It's almost as if the artist or producer is sometimes forced to use digital.
That's absolutely right. It's very cheap. You can find a real cool 16-track or 24-track 2" machine for not a whole lot of money, but it's the tape [costs]. On bigger projects I'll go to the tape. I might then go on to a digital platform afterwards, maybe. It depends on [the] fiddlin' about I need to do with it. I've just done the most technical, heavy, mad album [Cannibalised] with a band called Biomechanical. It's a cross between Devin Townsend with John Williams and his orchestra on top of it. [It] was such an amazing challenge to try and get all these things heard. Can I hear the flute behind the thirty-eight guitars? [laughs]
Did you actually use a large orchestra?
No, they were synthesized. They were the most amazing samples and programming that John K. [Yiannis Koutselinis] from Biomechanical did. I've never heard programming like that in my life. The drums were put together with samples for a lot of it. It was a very technical album in that respect, very modern, but it had this ridiculous heavy brutal sound and it's clear as a bell. After that I then went on to do this band from Canada called Matt Mays & El Torpedo, whom are kind of like Arcade Fire and Tom Petty. That was totally organic. We played it until they got it right and then we moved on. Whatever it takes to do the gig, I'll do.
What are your thoughts about recording live?
If they can, that's the best. Certain types of music gain from that interplay. With a heavy metal band, we'll have a scratch guitar go down with the drums and bass; then we'll replace all the guitars. You have to have some kind of vibe for the drummer and bass player to play along with. From a sonic point of view, I need the big room [later] for the guitars to open up in. I can't get the guitar sound I want in a live scenario. Whereas if it's a more rock 'n' roll based, where we're using combos or whatever, then it's possible with a few screens here and there. A bit of bleed enhances all that.
The sampling and programming of symphonic instruments with Biomechanical reminds me of back in the old days with the Synclavier.
That's right. Absolutely.
You had done some work with bands such as Japan and Depeche Mode.
I used the Fairlight [CMI] a lot back in the day. That was the big deal. There was this mythology around it like, "This is gonna save everything!" I've got more power in my little digital watch than that thing had. I was with Zomba Management at the time, which was with Jive Records and Battery Studios. It was both in London and New York. We became Dreamhire as well, a [pro sound] rental company. But it all started from us, which was basically a team of producers that were managed by this company. It was myself, [Robert John] "Mutt" Lange, Martin Birch, Tony Platt [Tape Op #92] and Nigel Green. Zomba bought Battery Studios, which used to be Morgan Studios, where I began my apprenticeship back in the day. They had the ethos of, "Whatever you need..." When you've got somebody like "Mutt" Lange on board, whatever you need to do your gig you will have. Dreamhire started because we had so much equipment. "Mutt" would see I had a couple of Manley microphones bought for me. "If Chris has got two, I want two." [laughs] Bottom line — what we come out with is amazing. With that behind you it really did help. I can't stress how important, how grateful I am, for having that kind of support back in the day when there were budgets for records. Things have changed somewhat.
In the Anvil documentary there was a scene where you and Anvil's guitar player, Steve "Lips" Kudlow, were being interviewed on a radio show. It was nice to see the producer going around helping the artist talk about the project.
Absolutely. If any of my bands need anything — speak to somebody, go on a TV program — no problem. I believe it's all part of the greater picture, which is trying to get the name spread so people get to know them and buy the record, hopefully. It's amazing how the role has kind of changed and in a way we're kind of becoming a bit more like producers in the movie business, as opposed to being the equivalent of a director. We now try and find money and places to do records.
Interesting point.
Bands call me up. The criteria basically is, "Do I like this group? Do I think there is going to be something going on? Is it worth my time to record it?" Then we ask, "Well, what have we got?" They might have saved some money — they've got some merchandise money or they've got an investor. They say, "We've got 'x' amount." I say to them, "With 'x' amount we can do this." Within that time frame we will make whatever it is we decide to make. If we take a few days extra, what the fuck, I'm not gonna sit there and say, "You owe me," because I don't work like that. There's not a daily rate, per se. I had a studio at another building in London. I was asked to record a live project and we agreed on the fee — it was with a big major [label]. Afterwards I said, "Okay, we'll mix it. It's gonna cost you..." whatever it was per day for the studio. They went," No. We can't pay that." Well why is that? "Well, you own it [the studio]." I said, "Let's go to Metropolis," and that's what we did. We went to Metropolis where it cost big bucks. What did we learn from that? They paid more money rather than pay me my fee plus a couple of hundred a day for my studio. If a producer hasn't got himself a studio that can accommodate a band, you're not going to work. That's kind of what I saw happening. Luckily I live in this gorgeous place here.
Can you tell me about your Vortex mic'ing technique?
It's a mic'ing situation where I use a close and a distant mic. They are panned completely opposite to each other. You have to find the sweet spot — where you put the distant mic. Frequencies come out certain distances away — standing waves, out of phase. If a guitarist is doing a mad solo, certain licks will cancel themselves out because it's hit that particular frequency where the microphone is, the distance away from the speaker cabinet. It will appear louder on one side as opposed to the other. So it gives this random panning effect, which is just bizarre. You have to have a decent acoustic room so that you don't have it sounding like it's in a bathtub or a sports arena, unless that's what you want. I'll do that with rhythm guitars, and then I'll double track it and reverse the stereo [image on the overdub]. So you get a wall of sound, a basic hugeness, but you can still distinguish that there's a guitar on the left and a guitar on the right. If you take the rooms away it's like, "What the hell happened there?" That's basically the Vortex.
Are you still discovering sweet spots for the mic?
Absolutely. It does depend on the amp, the tone and type of distortion. It depends how anal I want to get with it. Whether I set up more than one room mic. Sometimes I'll put gobos [partition screens] on each side of the cabinet, flared out, so it channels the sound, which also makes it louder.
Speaking of recording guitars, you've worked with some fantastic guitar players: Dave Meniketti [Y&T], Akira Takasaki [Loudness], Tony Iommi [Black Sabbath], Gary Moore [Thin Lizzy, solo], Glenn Tipton and K.K. Downing [Judas Priest] — that's but a few. Do you have a general way of recording with all of these guys, or is it going to vary?
It's pretty much like I described. I'll do that for everybody. You can put Glenn Tipton on Eddie Van Halen's stuff and he'll still sound like Glenn Tipton.
I spoke with Steve "Lips" Kudlow and asked him, "What was it like working with Chris?" He immediately said, "He knows how to work with the human element. He has a personal rapport with the artistic mind. He's not just twisting knobs."
That's lovely. You can't ask for more, really. Satisfied clients, customers, friends — whatever you want to call them. The fact that they've come in and you've managed to make their music [sound] like they wanted it to be, or better than you expected it to be. You never know about anything when you start. You walk in and it's a blank canvas. Then you walk out a few months later with something that could absolutely be brilliant. It just comes from your head and your heart.
"Lips" said that [This is Thirteen] is the best album they've done. At one point in the film you impressively handled a confrontation between band members.
Like I've always said, this job is ten percent knowing what the dials, knobs, and buttons do — the other ninety percent being is able to deal with the human beings. I pick up a lot of vibes, for want of a better word, from people. I can look at somebody and say, "Well, he looks pissed off," or, "He's happy." Over the years of working with all sorts of people — divas, great people, assholes — you kind of pick up [things] and observe. The best advice for somebody starting in a recording studio is to shut the fuck up, sit and watch what is going on. Look at the engineer. Look at the producer. Look at the band. Just soak it all in and see how these people interact. See what happens when somebody says the wrong thing to somebody. See how the session's going to be ruined and how they pull it back together. Because of my training/ upbringing in the recording world in a major studio, with big artists, I was fortunate to see this kind of crap going on and to see how people dealt with it. Calm things down — just let everyone say their piece, shout and do whatever. Then sit down and talk like individuals should. When this [Anvil confrontation] went down I had to sit there and say to them, "What the hell are you doing? We're here to make a record. You've been together thirty years and you're going to argue over what?" You start pointing out the facts and how ridiculous it all is — how it's a tiny little thing you're arguing over. It's like, "Oh, yeah. He's right. What are we talking about? Yeah, I love you man." And that's the end of that.
