The SonicScoop Year in Review: Top NYC Music Business News and Trends of 2010

THE FIVE BOROUGHS: 2010 has been busy all right. For anyone involved in New York City’s expansive business of music – producer, publisher, entrepreneur, engineer, artist, and many more – the environment remains fast-paced, ultra-competitive and constantly changing.

With 2011 looming, SonicScoop looked for the news, trends and topics that stood out to us over the past 365 days.

In audio post, it was grow or die in the uppermost echelon. The biggest facilities, including hsr|ny, Nutmeg, and Sound Lounge made serious expansions into audio and/or video:

Sound Lounge opened an ADR Stage and multiple studios.

Nutmeg Post added a strong team and facility when it soaked up Soundhound.

The big post house Mega Playground built out audio capabilities.

Northern Lights added a 5.1 audio mixing suite.

Video house Click3X reversed the trend and added their own audio suite.

Celebrating 35 years in business, hsr|ny continued to expand as a full-service video and audio post facility.

Large and mid-sized recording/tracking/mixing studios kept making capital improvements and expanding:

Premier Studios took over the 8th floor at 723 7th Avenue.

Engine Room opened up its penthouse studio.

Stadium Red expanded with a new studio for Just Blaze and a mastering suite.

Platinum Studios added Augspurgers to Studio K.

Sear Sound set up the Moog-centric Studio D.

Tainted Blue swapped out its SSL for a Euphonix (nee Avid) System 5.

And props to Electric Lady for marking its 40th Anniversary.

Converse (yes, the shoe company) has an interesting business plan for the Rubber Tracks studio it’s going to open in Williamsburg in 2011: no-cost recording.

Advanced smaller studios – independent and within larger facilities — and producer rooms also opened up at a peppy pace:

Chris Theberge’s Music Works arrived on the Upper West Side.

The former One Point Six in Williamsburg was reborn as Three Egg Studios.

Manhattan Center Studios launched The Fuse Box with Public Enemy’s Brian Hardgroove.

Avatar opened up its Studio W writing room.

Sisko’s Min-Max Studios opened up in midtown.

Marc Alan Goodman announced an ambitious new expansion for Brooklyn’s Strange Weather, then blogged about the buildout – step by step – for SonicScoop.

Guitarist Justin King moved his Vinegar Hill Sound from Portland, OR to DUMBO, Brooklyn.

Avid capped off a furious year of reinvention and new products with the release of Pro Tools 9.

Music houses and composers still had a ton of TV, film and video game work to go after and win:

Joel Beckerman of Man Made Music continued to make NYC a TV music powerhouse.

Composer Peter Nashel turned ears everywhere with his work for shows like Rubicon.

Outfits like Expansion Team scored for networks such as the Biography Channel.

Tom Salta understands how to get chosen to score for games like Prince of Persia and Red Steel 2.

Production music and synch licensing remained a solid business, especially for those who got in at the right time or had a smart approach.

NYC’s Kingsize Music was acquired by 615 Music.

And later on Warner-Chappell (NYC) bought up 615 Music.

NYC’s Videohelper released the “Scenarios” music search tool.

Jingle Punks continued to grow.

Mechanical licensing experts RightsFlow kept progressing.

One of NYC’s most controversial music business plays, peer-to-peer file sharing network Limewire, appeared to be finally finished.

Tracking, mixing and mastering at NYC’s established facilities did a relatively healthy volume of A-level and independent work throughout the year:

The Black Eyed Peas, Rivers Cuomo and Kanye West were at Germano Studios.

Neon Indian, Beach House, Matt and Kim, Bear Hands and more were mastered at The Lodge.

MSR Studios handled Kid Cudi, Evanescence and Broadway Cast recordings.

Lenny Kravitz, The Dirty Pearls, “Glee”, and Vampire Weekend were all at Avatar.

Joe Lambert Mastering worked with Moby and Ninjasonik.

New software and hardware happiness abounded:

We elected many items “Buzzworthy” at AES, from Universal Audio, Focal, SSL, Burl, Shadow Hills, Izotope, Sound Toys, Lavry Engineering, Telefunken and more.

Propellerhead released Reason 5.

NYC suffered losses when beloved people and places left us:

Recording icon Walter Sear passed away.

The great hip hop/jazz experimentalist Guru was gone before his time.

Clinton Recording Studios hosted its last session.

Brick and mortar music retail took another hit when Fat Beats shuttered its last stores.

Baseline Studios, home of Just Blaze and countless Jay-Z hits, closed.

Chung King Studios started off 2010 with a bang by suddenly vacating Varick Street.

NYC-based producers, mixers, engineers and artists became businesses in their own right:

Producer Chris Coady worked on some hugely acclaimed records this year, including Beach House Teen Dream and Delorean Subiza, as well as records with Hooray for Earth, Zola Jesus, Smith Westerns, Cold Cave.

People like Allen Farmelo developed their distinctive sound.

Choice songwriter Claude Kelly made a business of hits.

Shane Stoneback’s career took off via work with Sleigh Bells and Vampire Weekend.

Mixer Mark Saunders embraced multiple aspects of the biz from his studio at Beat 360.

Dream Theater’s Jordan Rudess took his iPad/iPhone app MorphWiz all the way to #1.

Joel Hamilton continued down an immersive production path, working on records with Blakroc, Dub Trio, The Parkington Sisters and Blakroc.

And John Agnello brought his classic production and engineering technique to new records for Kurt Vile, J Mascis, Shayna Zaid And The Catch and Dead Confederate (among others).

The studio scene got a lot more socialicious and FUN:

Flux Studios was always hosting something in the East Village, like Alto and Dangerous converging for a schooling from Fab.

Digital Music NY was one of many popular business-based meetups.

Stadium Red partied down post-CMJ.

20dot20 mixed advertising and music.

And the Connectors connected a LOT of people.

What big stories would you include? And what do you see next in 2011? Don’t be shy – leave a comment and let us know!

– Janice Brown and David Weiss

Career Engineering: Allen Farmelo on Recording Cinematic Orchestra, & That Post-Pink Floyd Sound

CHINATOWN, MANHATTAN/FORT GREENE, BROOKLYN: What headspace are you in? For a music producer/engineer/mixer like Allen Farmelo, getting your talents to that sought-after place is all about finding yourself.

In the process of doing that, of course, people will find you — that explains why one of Farmelo’s fans is an artful outfit like Cinematic Orchestra, the engrossing British jazz/electronic/soul influenced outfit led by Jason Swincoe. The ever-evolving group recently called on Farmelo to engineer their upcoming release for Ninja Tune, a project that he executed in the semi-exclusive confines of Chinatown’s intriguing Mavericks Studio.

Whether working at Mavericks or mixing/mastering at his rapidly evolving Fort Greene facility, The Farm, Farmelo’s primary angle – a sound he gravitates to that he calls “Post-Pink Floyd” – and artist-centric philosophy shows how an NYC audio pro gets on the map. As his list of credits grows (The Loom, Second Dan, Cucu Diamantes, Jonah Smith, Ian Gillan, The Cabriolets, Jesus H. Christ), so does his insight on what makes today’s music, and the business of it, tick.

You’ve been working a lot with Cinematic Orchestra the last few weeks. How would you describe that workflow?
I wouldn’t say it’s improvisational, but I would say it’s a very grand project that operates on a lot of different levels and that there’s a lot of exploration happening. Jason’s done a lot of writing beforehand, and he brings in musicians to flesh out the ideas. The writing is extremely intentional, and harmonically/melodically very plotted out. He knows the goal of those songs.

He’s an amazing producer because he manages to get people to do stuff that works for the song, without telling them what to do. Is he micromanaging? No. But is he getting the micro-details he wants out of people? Yes. So I’m watching him closely and learning from him.

Cinematic’s not like the Beatles where you have the same four members, and without one of them you’re done. Jason’s brought in people he feels will contribute to that particular song in the way he thinks it will happen best. Different singers for different songs, that kind of thing. So far it’s a bit of a different-sounding record than the previous one, and I think the lineup will reflect those changes.

So what’s it like coming into the project as an engineer? Do they let you do your thing, or is it a collaborative process?
Jason knows what he wants to hear, he is extremely good at communicating it, and he lets me achieve that. He can sometimes get right down to the gear. They were working at Livingston Studios in London, using those Coles 4038s as the overheads. He described that setup, and I did that here to get the specific sound that worked well when he tracked in England.

So sometimes he’s very specific, other times he’ll describe a vibe or metaphor to get what he’s looking for, and then the way I achieve that is up to me. Mixing the Grey Reverend record that Jason produced was a lot like that, where both Grey and Jason would articulate well what they wanted from the record. Then I sent them home, said, “Let me do this,” and then let them come back.

My first stab was good on about 70% of the material — and then fell on its face on the other! We talked about that, and they were very good at articulating what they wanted changed. So we freed up some things in the mix, found the center of the record, and let those things happen. As the record went on, I was able to take more ownership of the aesthetic. So the collaboration is very easy and open.

So is it easier to go into this project now that you’re in the same headspace? Are there traditional references to other records he’s listening to as far as the approach, or is it like you’re already aware of what he likes based on the past experience?
Jason has written amazing, amazing music that is dictating everything about what follows. The songwriting is so strong and beautiful that everybody else is just there to serve that song – including Jason. I don’t feel any references to anything outside of those songs happening at all. Instead we’re coming from the center of those songs. And when you hear them, they all have their own character, life, logic, feel, tonality and beauty that’s obvious from the get-go, even when they’re just played on acoustic guitar. You say, “That’s freakin’ beautiful. Let’s make it more beautiful.”

How do you go about taking the song further at that point?
So everything from changing a mic to subdividing a beat to figuring out how to lay a crash down is there to serve that inner logic. Jason makes sure we’re there to serve that inner logic and the inner beauty of the song, and he communicates it very easily. You have the songwriter, the vision, and the songs are giving you tons of information from that.

You don’t have to do that much to know how to get the studio to sing properly for the song, and that’s where I feel I’m trusted to make some good choices along the way. It can be something as simple as, “Wow, slow tempo – let’s raise the overheads and let the drums sing a little more,” or for more complex patterns I might think, “Let’s get things a little tighter.”

For me, setting the tone on the guitar amp is instinctively informed by the guitar pattern. Since we feel very much in tune with the music, we all kind of trust each other aesthetically and say, “OK, let’s make this happen.” There’s not a lot of discussion about this stuff. It’s kind of obvious when things are working or not, everyone’s got great ears.

The thing that’s refreshing about working with these guys is that there’s no ego to get in the way of this discussion, so it’s an aesthetic conversation at all times – a really clean and artistic conversation.

That sounds like a rewarding way to be recording. Why is this studio a fit for this band and record?
Well, Maverick’s fits any project really well, as long as you don’t need to record forty musicians here. I had thirteen here once – that worked surprisingly well. That was a big, amazing, raucous New Orleansy anti-war album. So Maverick’s can kind of do that. We did the strings for Grey Reverend’s upcoming album here – we had a quartet in the main space. I did the whole Loom record, Teeth, which was a six-piece band all playing in the room together. A lot of people come to just do drums. It’s a very versatile space, and as long as your mics are in phase, you’ll sound good. There’s really no crappy-sounding place in here. For the Cinematic record, there’s just something wonderful happening between the songs and the room sound. They match beautifully.

It feels that way. What do you think about the “open concept” (studio in the round) format here?
I’ve been on two Tape Op Conference panels with other people talking about open concept studios, so I’ve thought a lot about it. And of course the most famous reference is Lanois. The number one benefit of it is being able to speak face-to-face with the people you’re working with and not through a talkback system. The alienation of a talkback system is apparent as soon as it’s taken away. It’s so nice to pull off the headphones and talk to the person you’re speaking to.

The drawback is there’s no room for bullshit. Everyone has to be reverent to the music happening. You can’t rattle your keys, text your boyfriend, read Vogue – a lot of what normally happens in the control room can’t happen here. So if you’re not into being reverent, you have to go into the back room where there are no speakers. You’re either in or out.

I didn’t realize I was paying so much attention to what was coming out of the speakers – instead of to the musicians – until I started working in an open studio. It’s a positive for me, but not for everyone – my friend Joel Hamilton jokingly calls us a bunch of hippies that like to sit in the same room together, and he’s kind of got a point as it can be pretty touchy-feely. But the other most obvious benefit is the amount of space I have. We have one of the biggest control rooms in NYC, because we have all this space, and when we’re tracking we can subdivide it any way we want.

If we’d had a separate control room, we’d be like a lot of little studios, but instead we’re like a good midsize studio here. For a facility our size, we have a really big control room and a really big live room. They just happen to be the same space – it’s an incredible way to take advantage of small spaces.

That makes sense. What guides the gear choices here?
First and foremost, we have pairs of everything in the studio: Coles 4038’s, Royer 121’s, RCA BK 5As, Beyer M 160’s, Shure SM7’s, Elux 251s, 87s, 84s, 441s…a pair of everything. The point being that we are really ready to put up a pair of anything on any source, so we are really versatile when recording drums. We can get any flavor stereo overhead and room sound we want.

We used to have a mishmash of preamps, and then came to realize really quickly that we love API, and miss the glue/consistency of having the same preamps working off of a console. So we have 16 of the API 512s. We do have other pres – the Chandler, a pair of original 1073 Neves racked up by Brent Averil…but we have far fewer flavors then we used to, and we love it. We’re thrilled to have the same preamp on everything, because when you bring up the faders it all sits together tonally. We went through the “We could have a little of everything phase” and grew out of it.

We have a lot of really interesting compressors, and a lot of really standard standbys. We have two Purple MC77s, two 1176s, and a pair of DBX 160’s that used to belong to Johnny Cash! We have a pair of Distressors. Where we deviate is the API 2500 – I mix through that 2500 almost exclusively. I have one in my studio in Brooklyn, The Farm, and I have one here that’s always strapped onto my two buss. It reminds me not to over compress and to cascade from the individual channel compressors into that bus compressor. I work with it on all the time, so I know where I’m going to land compression-wise when it comes time to mix.

And there are other non-standard compressors here. We just got the Airfield Audio Liminator Two, which is a beautiful piece of kit, and this Gyrotek Varimu Tube Compressor is stunning – handmade in Denmark. So we have a lot of neat flavors on the compression side, and again, everything is stereo. We have two of everything, so you can run any pair of mics through any pair of pres/compressors.

Do you also mix here, or at The Farm?
I used to mix here, and then I had to mix back at my place because of a scheduling thing – this was like in 2006. So I recorded a record for Rachel Z., which featured Tony Levin, and other great musicians, and due to scheduling and some technical issues I ended up with mixes done on the console here at Mavericks, some summed in Pro Tools here, and some mixed in my room in Brooklyn. When we got to mastering, there were definitely differences – and the analog summed mixes were way better – but my mixes done at home were sounding really good. They were right up there. It was weird: I went to the news stand across the street from my Brooklyn apartment and saw that Rachel’s record was charting in Billboard, then I looked up at my window where my mix room is and said, “Wow, a new era.” So I did what everyone else did: I put together a mix room.

And now my studio, The Farm in Fort Greene, is a serious mixing situation. I have a lot of outboard gear, the Crane Song HEDD which I’m using to print my mixes off a Studer A-80 1/2” machine; a fully acoustically treated room. It’s pretty ideal and I’m doing pretty much all of my mixing there. That allows me to work within the budgets that are coming my way, allowing me to offer better deals to my clients and make a living at it.

That said, mixing here at Mavericks is a wonderful experience. We’ve got the Studer two-track, the center section of the Neotek, which is modified by Purple Audio, sounds wonderful. That console is like the mid-size luxury touring sedan with a badass racing engine in it.

We hear you’re putting together an interesting new console for The Farm. What was the concept, and how is it coming together?
The concept is to have an API Legacy console built from their amazing 7600 channel strips, which each have a 550A EQ, 225L compressor and 212L preamp along with four busses, four aux sends and infinite routing possibilities.

I realized after working on the big Vision console up at NYU’s Clive Davis school and then, days after, tracking at Mavericks with all API 512 preamps that API was a sound I could very happily commit to. But I couldn’t afford, nor did I really need, nor did I want to maintain, a full-on Legacy or Vision console.

The API 7600’s all connect to the 7800 Master Module to form a true, discrete Legacy console with as many channels you want or can afford. So I bought a pair of 7600s to try on a mix session and within about three minutes I knew I’d found my channels, and when I summed through the 7800 Master Module, I knew I’d found my console. Problem was I had to get it built.

Francois Chambard of UM Project in Greenpoint came on board, and our goal was to defy the look and feel of traditional consoles – which to my eye look like either Cold War-era military equipment, a dentist’s office, or some leather bound thing you’d expect Ron Burgundy to tell you he mixed his jazz flute on. I’m a really visual guy, and none of those inspire me, nor did I really want to spend the rest of my career behind one.

Instead we found a great blend between Francois’s sense of modern design and my own fascination with the landscape, architecture and design of Iceland. It’s going to look really different, yet it has the ergonomics of my favorite consoles all bundled together with space for over twenty-four channels, eventually. I couldn’t be happier, and Francois is a bad-ass designer. There’ll be racks and diffusors to match, I’m sure.

Sounds amaaaazing. Switching gears, let’s talk about the NYC recording scene. How would you describe what’s happening here?

There is an incredible energy around making records in NYC right now. Specifically in Brooklyn, there’s an incredibly good, positive foundation of recording happening.

Five years ago we were in distress a little bit, we were watching the big studios close. Now Avatar is still there, Sear Sound is still there – Walter RIP – they’re booked solid. Magic Shop is still there. These amazing rooms that really held close to their missions are still operating and they’re there for us to go in and use as needed. The new era is here, and we’re all relaxing into it.

The market crash happened in 2008, which was a grim year for everyone, but we got used to it. Now it’s a community of people making records. I see NYC as a place that adapted swiftly to a new model, and everyone’s got a room with an increasing amount of gear in it. Between the bigger studio and your own space, records are being made wonderfully that way. There are fewer places to get an orchestra recorded, but a hell of a lot of places for an acoustic guitar overdub!

The big loss is community. That’s not an original thought, but I do miss the community of being with a lot of people doing what you do. Writing for Tape Op helps, being on Facebook helps – when you have status updates, you feel like you’re in a conversation. I find I have to make an effort to find people who do what I do. It’s an effort, but it’s worth it.

So there’s a lot of obstacles to overcome, but musically I think NYC is bringing together the sophistication of indie, jazz and “new” classical music with the street levelness of the rock scene – now it’s almost the norm to have a string quartet on your record. I like seeing those worlds coming together. Maybe because no one can make a living at it anymore, we’ll all play on each other’s records! That cross-pollination is really exciting: Grizzly Bear and Arcade Fire used a lot of NYC string players on their last records, and you can feel a new kind of sound emerging nationally that has a particular stamp on it that, to my ears, says “Brooklyn.”

You’re from Buffalo originally, right? How did you work your way up as an engineer in the NYC studio scene?
I’m very much a self-taught guy. I had a bit of experience working at Trackmasters in Buffalo, now called Inner Machine and owned by the Goo Goo Dolls. It’s an amazing room, designed by John Storyk, and the Goo Goo Dolls are currently packing it with amazing gear. That studio is absolutely iconic in Buffalo’s music scene, and my first time in there I was playing keyboards in my highschool jazz band. We were badass that year, and then all the great players went off to college. It’s funny, I heard that recording recently and thought, “whoh, that’s amazing.”

Anyways, that first experience in a real studio had me hooked, and I soon after got a four-track and had at it. But where I really learned was in the DIY hardcore scene of the late ‘80’s. I did a record at Trackmasters in 1989 with my band RedDog7, then helped some friends make records there. I was kind of producing, but I had no idea that’s what I was doing. We made some seriously good sounding records, actually, and I was obsessed with getting good sounds – I knew guitars, amps, drums, cymbals, strings and even obsessed over sticks and picks. My head was way up in it from an early age, and I was thinking from the player to the instrument to the mic, which I now know is the right way to think.

Then we had a band house for a while, and and then this whole basement situation with the Mackie board and DAT machines. We made deals and acquired gear, recording, doing live sound and playing gigs, and then running this little DIY studio. That’s where I really cut my teeth as a recording guy, struggling to get a decent sound outside of Trackmasters. Over time in Buffalo I had the chance to become a bigger fish in a small pond, which is a nurturing environment, but that pond got too small. It was time to move on, so I came to NYC.

What’s your take on producing? You seem to have a studied approach to that role.
My philosophy of producing is that I try not to carry around any pre-ordained philosophy, but instead to generate a philosophy for the project in collaboration with the artist. I call that “guiding principles” – a very intentional guiding philosophy I try to lock in on and externalize for the project, in case we get lost.

For example, I’m doing a children’s record with the Brooklyn-based artist Shelley Kay, and we have two guiding principles. One is, “Fuck Romper Room”, and the other is “Playful Minimalism.” Fuck-Romper-Room is easy – that means that whenever we’re getting into the mamby-pamby kindergarten shit, hit the red STOP button. And “Playful Minimalism” means that when we’re confronted with a decision we ask: Is it playful? It is minimalist? Those two words show us the choice to make. Between two drum patterns for example, if one is more minimalist, that’s typically the one to go with, and the result comes back closer to our original artistic intentions to keep the production clean.

Another artist that I’m working with, the guiding principle is “Sincere Otherworldliness.” I’m putting him through the paces as a songwriter. He’s been struggling to get his sincerity out, and the otherworldliness is an outwardly-stated goal of his to create a sonic world that’s very different from reality, another world one can enter into. To bring those two together is difficult – if you’re too sincere, you can’t get it spacey and amazing, but if you’re too otherworldly, you can miss being right there with the listener, making it sincere. These principles are meant to be challenging.

In production it’s very hard to stop saying, “I like that, I don’t like that.” If that’s going on in the conversation, you’ll never get to the heart of the matter. If you get past “I like that, I don’t like that” and closer to stating what you want to achieve, something like a guiding principle starts to open up, and you have much more productive conversations about what’s happening.

In my work, that’s the best thing I can give to their project: an open, comfortable dialogue about things, but with structure instead of just being completely wide open. One of the functions of the producer is to help the artist specify what they’re doing, and not be all over the place. Not everyone is making their fifth record and bringing all that experience to the table. A lot of people are making their first or second, and I have to be intentional about my role, because if I don’t we get sloppy.

How did you get to be like that as a producer? It sounds like you’ve evolved in that role, just as an artist does with their music.
It’s not a new idea to find artistic growth as a producer, I don’t think. I have to attribute my own growth partly to Bob Power, one of my mentors. He always says it’s about getting to a place where you’re letting the music make decisions, and I know exactly what he means. That idea inspired me to ask, “Well, how do you get to that place?” Like most great ideas, it’s not complex, but it can be a real bugger to achieve. There are so many things that can get in the way, like ego, fear, imagined or real audiences, commercial pressure, well disguised self-sabotage tendencies – basically anything external to the actual crafts of writing, performing and recording music. For me, to get to that place where the music is speaking clearly requires a pretty intentional approach to how I talk about the work being done, and that’s where the guiding principles idea kind of came from.

More and more of us producers are doing the A&R job of developing artists and their material. If we don’t have record labels, who will do all the development work? It turns out to be the record producer in a lot of cases. It’s a big part of the job. So if I can obsess about a compressor as an engineer, I hope I can also obsess about the dialogue that’s going to shape decisions about the album as a producer. That’s been a big area of growth for me, to enter into dialogue about the work with more and more clarity. It’s really fucking hard work, but when it pays off it’s amazing. I even read books about collaborating, about creativity – whatever I can get my hands on that I think might help. Right now it’s where I’m focusing my professional growth.

That sounds like amazing guidance to be able to provide throughout the process…
Yes, although I should also state that all of that development of the guiding principles, and doing the artist and material development, happens long before we hit record. It’s like pre-pre-production. It goes on long before I’m getting things ready for the actual recording date. It’s more of trying to figure out what the vision of the artist is, and helping them shape it. I’ll say it again, it’s not easy. It’s not the easy path of just saying “I like this, I don’t like that.”

The other thing is the kind of music I’m working on can call for this kind of approach. I’ve more recently committed as a mixer/engineer/producer to this specific vibe within modern rock music that I call post-Pink Floyd. Don’t take that term too literally, but one day someone asked that inevitable question “what kind of music do you work on” and I just said it – “post-Pink Floyd.” What I meant by it is this thread of really innovative, beautiful, spacious, compassionate music.

Pink Floyd had incredible empathy, beautiful spaces, beautiful sounds, and brought in influences of jazz and classical without doing them overly in the music. The ideas they brought in were so involved in empathy – it wasn’t, “Let’s go shake our butts and hump each other and party all night long.” Instead, they were dealing more directly with the human condition, and I just wind up working with a lot of artists who seem to have somewhat similar goals lyrically and thematically. So it’s not really about Pink Floyd in particular, but if I had to point to a moment in rock history where this compassionate, open, spacious music began, I’d say “Dark Side of the Moon.”

Cinematic Orchestra exemplifies it. Radiohead and Sigur Ros exemplify it. Elbow’s got it. Peter Gabriel’s work with Lanois has it. In fact, Lanois seems to get it out of people in general – he got it out of Dylan, perhaps for the first time. I work with a lot of artist who seem to want to work towards the aesthetic that are embodied by those examples, even if those records aren’t particular influences. Cinematic Orchestra is an honor to work with, because I feel that they’re harmonically, musically, thematically within that realm. I think they’re masters of space and compassion, and I think the record they’re making is going to blow people away. But that post-Pink Floyd thing comes in a lot of flavors. In American bands I’d include The National, Grizzly Bear, Fleet Foxes, Wilco does it do a degree, and especially Band of Horses. The Loom, whose record I produced, fits under that umbrella for me, even thought they sound nothing like these other bands, really. Again, it’s not really a particular sound, but a set of harmonic and thematic threads that run through the music.

It’s a hard and awful thing to have to put into the limitations of language something you feel and know so intuitively, but I guess that’s the exact challenge I’m putting on the artists I work with when trying to get positive dialogue happening about projects. In a way, post-Pink Floyd is my own kind of guiding priciple as I try to intentionally steer my career in a specific direction. I should probably work harder on clarifying that!

That sounds like an expansive genre to hang your hat on – what else is on the Post-Pink Floyd horizon for you?
I’m currently producing two records that are definitely going to carry some of that vibe. One is with Austin Donohue, who is writing some amazingly beautiful stuff, really finding his themes. He’s the Sincere Otherworldliness guy. The other is with Diana Hickman, who I think is writing some of the most innovative material I’ve heard in a while – like Joni Mitchell and Bjork go SCUBA diving together and surface with a record. Both of them are working their asses off, doing a ton of development work with me. Those will get done this winter.

I’ve also become inspired by Iceland as a place for music and making records. It’s a very sparsely populated, lovely place that just doesn’t go to war or pollute very much, and their landscape and relative remoteness lends itself to music that is really quite unique. When people settled Iceland, they didn’t colonize anybody, and it just doesn’t have this scarred past which so many other places rife with conflict have. It’s quieter. You can feel that lack of conflict and that quiet, and a sense of expansiveness in much of the music there, even when it’s erupting like a volcano.

At least that’s what my tired NYC ears hear. I just went back there in October to the Airwaves Music Festival in Reykjavik and saw amazing bands every night. I’m talking to one in particular about working together, and I really hope it starts to happen for me over there. I’m very interested in putting my foot on that other piece of land.

– Interview by Janice Brown and David Weiss

Yoko Ono, Suzanne Vega, Dub Trio Recording At Avatar

Yoko Ono recently produced a project with NYC’s Bang On A Can, recording in Avatar Studio‘s legendary Studio A with Scott Hollingsworth engineering. Another NYC legend, Suzanne Vega, recently spent time in Studio A as well, recording with producer/engineer Joe Blaney.

In Studio C, Brooklyn’s Dub Trio recorded for their upcoming album with producer/engineer Joel Hamilton; singer/songwriter Danielle Evin recorded with producer Phil Ramone and engineer Jay Messina; and jazz-pop singer Jane Monheit recorded with engineer Jim Anderson.

In other recent jazz sessions at Avatar, Freddy Cole recorded new music at Avatar with producer Todd Barkan and engineer Katherine Miller, jazz-guitarist Jim Hall recorded with engineer James Farber and The Fred Hersch Trio also recorded with Barkan and Miller.

The orchestral music for AMC’s new thriller, Rubicon, was recorded in Avatar’s Studio A with producer Peter Nashel and engineer Gary Chester. And music for HBO’s upcoming Todd Haynes-directed mini-series, Mildred Pierce was recorded in Studio C with producers Steven Epstein and Carter Burwell, with Todd Whitelock engineering.

Joel Hamilton’s Immersive Path: Producing Like A Method Actor, Recording in South Africa and Dub For Disney

WILLIAMSBURG, BROOKLYN: Joel Hamilton is a hard guy to pin down. Paging through his discography, career highlights jump out from all corners of the map. Although his mixes often feature direct, powerful central elements against backdrops of wide, immersive ambience, his production style is best defined by his adaptability.

Joel works across genres to create records with unique sonic stamps. If a common thread runs through his discography, it’s the prevalence of artists with distinct, singular voices. Often referenced are the unmistakable thumbprints of Elvis Costello, Tom Waits and Marc Ribot.  He’s gone from gritty to pretty with Dub Trio, Matisyahu, Sparklehorse, Jolie Holland, and thanks to a newly released Blakroc record, he’s crossed paths with true hip-hop heavyweights like RZA and Mos Def.

We caught up with Joel by Studio G‘s Neve 5316 and found him fresh off a two-week recording stint in rural South Africa.  Already back into the swing of life as an in-demand NYC producer/engineer, he told us about tracking sessions beneath a bullet-ridden chalkboard in the Nkomazi countryside, long days in the studio with a haunting “mermaid choir,” and pumping out dub tracks for Disney.

The new Blakroc record has been doing pretty well. A lot of Rock/Hip Hop crossovers in the recent past saw Rock artists bringing in Hip Hop elements. Jay Z made some news last summer when he came to this neighborhood for a Grizzly Bear show, and made some comments about modern rap growing stale.

It’s funny you bring that up. Damon Dash had been Jay Z’s producer and partner for years and he was Executive Producer on the Blakroc sessions. If we had the idea to get RZA on a track, he was the guy who could pull out the Rolodex and make it happen. At one point, he basically named all these people and said “Me, Jay, Rick, we’re all getting out of Hip Hop.”

I was a huge Hip-Hop fan from the early days. There were parallels with Hardcore at the time. They shared this urgent “revolution now”, kind of vibe that’s common to street music. The idea with Blakroc was about going around the Hip Hop idiom in a lot of ways. It used to be so authentic, but it’s been xeroxed so many times that it barely resembles the original art form. There’s a lot of great stuff out there, but when it comes to the mass-market stuff you’d hear on the radio, it has none of the soul anymore. It’s been emasculated in a lot of ways.

Emasculated by sheer machismo?

(Laughs) Weirdly, yeah. But to me that is emasculation. If you have a real cause with some substance, that’s about as masculine as you can get. It’s that kind of genuine focused passion that gives people the strength to walk into Rwanda or go into the hood and do a needle exchange program in the early 80s. There’s a kind of power that comes when you’re there trying to do something that actually makes a difference.

Speaking of…you’ve just come back from recording in Africa with TRIAD Trust. Tell us a little about that.

At a fundamental level, TRIAD Trust is an AIDS awareness program that does medical outreach. The way it’s implemented is really genius. I’m not a complete 16-year-old utopian. The concept that you should be as destitute as the people you’re trying to help is ridiculous. But so many non-profits will have their heart in the right place, and then you walk into the office and they have marble counter-tops and the Park Avenue address, and you think “Do you really need that to save the world?”  That kind of bums me out a little bit. There was none of that at TRIAD.

When I was being introduced to them, I was shown simple point-and-shoot videos and photos that were unbelievably compelling. There was one in particular that stuck out. It was a picture of a kid playing soccer. He had a left sneaker on his right foot, and no sneaker on the other foot. The reason was as simple as this: He was right handed and wanted the sneaker on the stronger leg. What he had to work with was one sneaker, and he put it on the leg that could kick better. That just spoke volumes about the attitude over there.

There are some very modern areas in South Africa with well developed infrastructure. I saw some of your photos, and the Nkomazi region, where you were was definitely not one of them.

Absolutely. It was in the middle of nowhere, even by South African standards. Let’s put it this way: South Africa has the highest incidence of HIV and AIDS in the world, and we were in the section that has the highest incidence in South Africa. Over 50% of males won’t see their 30th birthday. It’s not that it’s “the hood”. Nobody’s smoking crack. It’s not the “bad area”. You can’t even call it “poor”. There are just no resources.

So what was the goal of this trip and these recordings? Is there an album that came out of it?

It’s not finished yet, but I have roughs that I made, literally in a hut. We wanted to challenge the notion of “album” a bit. There are some elements akin to an NPR documentary, with interviews and other real-life snippets for context. But you don’t want to take that too far into “field recording” territory. I didn’t want to drop in as the white guy and say “Alright! Now Hold Up Your Spears and Smile! *click*” (Laughs) That’s not what I was there to do.

They’re savvy kids, and they want to feel valued as artists. We do have some material that’s very traditional, but that’s just one facet of who they are. If you’re a young American, that doesn’t mean the” Star-Spangled Banner” defines who you are. These guys and girls know western music. They’d also love to make something akin to an Alicia Keys record. You’ve got to respect that too.

So what direction did you end up taking them in? More towards punching and overdubs, or more toward…

It’s different for each person. One girl named Nomvula could sing a song four times and just kill it on every pass. Any one of those takes could have been “the one.” There were other performers where we’d punch every fourth word. Either way, it would come out in a way that would establish the mood we were trying to convey. That was the most important thing.

So you’re not going in there with any specialized recording dogma. “We must follow this set of rules because we’re in Africa, trying to keep it real.”

That’s a mistake in New York, Baltimore, San Francisco, and Africa (Laughs).

I’ve heard you talk about taking a dogmatic approach to recording: “Overdubs are evil”, “Rhythm guitars must be doubled” or whatever it may be. Do you think there’s any room for that in recording process?

You’re totally baiting me so hard right now, because you know! (Laughs).  Short answer: No. I wouldn’t put my shoes on your feet and expect them to fit you just because they feel good on me.

Long answer? Maybe, if your definition of success is getting the 10 million dollar contract and having 19 Grammy-winning records in a row. If you already have that track record, and you’ve found artists who want to follow the path you’ve laid out and go through the standard industry channels, then go for it. Maybe it’ll work if you apply your formula to someone else. But the problem is, at a certain point, even that fails.

So there’s no formula, but you do have to trust your instincts. I can definitely hear bold moves in your mixes, especially with Dub Trio, but I can’t say you have an overbearing sonic stamp.

Production-wise I’m more interested in creating an environment where people can realize their vision. They filter it through me and I help them get rid of the things that they don’t need.  A lot of producers feel like they impart something through the filtration process, but I try not to. If you were draining a pot of pasta, and your colander was flaking off shards of metal into your linguini, you’d throw it out!

Do I have a sonic bull’s-eye in my mind? Yeah, sure, but it’s different for each record. I might leave something behind when making production choices, but it’s best when you don’t try to.

What have you been working on most recently? Anything we should look forward to?

The Parkington Sisters. Definitely. No one’s heard of them yet, and they’re amazing. They’re five sisters:  A string quartet and a multi-instrumentalist, with beautiful five-part harmonies.  It’s hard to compare it to anything else. If you could mute the rhythm section on Beck’s Sea Change, and just be left with the most beautiful shimmering orchestral moments and add a choir of mermaids, it might be a little like that. It’s a record that doesn’t just come out of the speakers, it occupies the room. It’s very melancholy and beautiful.

Although that’s so far removed from some of the heavier records you’ve worked on, listening to them it’s clear you’re just as comfortable with them as with anything else. What does it take to jump from style to style so effectively?

If you don’t have a concrete idea of what “a record” should sound like, you can be kind of like a method actor. I like things that live way outside of the center, so I feel like I can operate at the extremities really well whether it’s supposed to be really heart-wrenchingly beautiful or totally savage.

When I listen to my favorite records, I don’t picture a singer in the studio wearing headphones. Instead, they create their own world and hold you there. If there’s a unifying approach I have for making any record, that’s it. I want it be as if we’re creating a real, unusual physical space that you can actually visit and live in for a little while.

Speaking of unusual worlds, you just did a reggae track for Disney.

Yeah, with Matisyahu. We did a remake of the song “Circle of Life” from the Lion King soundtrack.

Wow.

Yeah. (Laughs)

It was hard to figure out at first. We were sitting around with the band, with our heads in our hands, giggling awkwardly about how incredible the original is, and trying to figure out how the hell we were going to make it cool. I think an important thing in making it work is that we barely referenced the destination or who was paying for it. All we could do was try to make something we thought was great. For a little while we weren’t sure if they were even going to use it because there’s a straight up Dub section at the end. There were a lot of moves there to make it sound a bit more sinister, with a classic Radio One/King Tubby kind of vibe.

The truth is, commerce is built into art whether you like it or not. The best way to make a record recoup is to make it good, and to do that you have to separate the money and the creative process by a thousand foot wall. So, in a way, to safeguard the investment, you have to safeguard the creative process.

You’re a new Father. Congratulations. What’s it like trying to strike a balance between work and family in a profession that insists on odd hours and “just one more take”? Do you have any rules for making it work?

Sure, I have a great one: Set a precedent with the client. If you establish that you’ll be working until 10pm and you stay until 11pm, you’re a hero. If you set no precedent, then you’re an asshole when you walk at the door, no matter what time it is. It’s crucial. So many things that happen in the studio are so easily avoided by just having one conversation over tea before walking in the control room.

It’s also good to remember that it’s pointless to do 700 takes into the same mic and the same pre, unless I hear it getting better every single time. Otherwise it’s futile, and you’ll gain more by stopping than pushing on. In the end I don’t have a firm stance on the number of tracks or takes or days.

You have a lot of great hardware here at Studio G and I know you keep your Studer and Neve in the signal path at all times. Still, you seem to have really embraced digital. You’re always working in Pro Tools, and do a fair share of processing there too. Do you ever wax poetic for the old days?

When I started out I only had 16 tracks. It’s funny to think that sounds so renegade now, like we were going 100 miles an hour without a windshield, taking the bugs in our teeth. It’s kind of bullshit to romanticize that. I don’t understand how having more colors on the palette means you have to put them all on the canvas.

There are ten million restaurants here in New York. It doesn’t mean I have to eat at all of them for lunch. Choose something! Some of the plug-ins are good too. I think about them just like you’d think of any other piece in the rack.

Speaking of the rack, are there any new toys in here you’ve been loving?

Here’s one: the Tyme Sefari. It’s a voltage-controlled sampler and delay. You can use it to create a tempo locked-delay, and then alter elements of the delay based on what’s happening in the track. I like to do a lot of analog morphing of sounds based on tempo or mood.  I might use it as a pre-delay feeding a reverb.

If you were to put a band pass filter into the side-chain of a gate, when the chord changes and you pass the threshold, it’ll a fire dancing rhythmic delay in the background, which might only come during the chorus. You don’t hear it as an “effect” so much but it can really give a track energy and movement.

So you do some things that aren’t really meant to be heard?

Definitely. Oh yeah, tons.

That’s so different than say, a Steve Albini. I remember an interview where he said the opposite: “I don’t get the idea of something that’s so quiet you don’t even hear it.  Why not mute it?”

Sure.  And some people like black and white movies. There’s something to be said for that aesthetic, but I choose a more immersive path. I’m not a documentary recordist. There are elements on most of these records that are the equivalent to the frame around the painting, or the lighting on a stage. I like the idea that you’re signing about things that are melancholy or aggressive, there are ways to give the listener emotional cues that match that.

Walking out of the studio an aluminum baseball bat leaning against the doorframe caught my eye, “The Big Boomer”, ostensibly present for giving would-be gear-thieves emotional cues to the cranium. I looked at him with a quizzical smile. Joel laughed and shrugged it off: “This neighborhood wasn’t always filled with pretty indie rock girls. That’s why.” — Justin Colletti

Find out more about Joel Hamilton at www.joelhamiltonrecording.com and Studio G HERE, and find him on the Tape Op Message Board. Also, for more information on TRIAD Trust, visit www.triadtrust.org.

Gig Alert: Candice Anitra at Southpaw This Thursday

Brooklyn-based singer/songwriter Candice Anitra will play Park Slope venue Southpaw this Thursday (4/8 at 8PM), to celebrate the release of her new LP, Bark Then Bite.

Bark Then Bite was recorded over 15 days at Studio G in Williamsburg, Brooklyn with producer/engineer Joel Hamilton (Elvis Costello, Blakroc, Mos Def).

For Thursday’s show Anitra will be backed by a quintet including drummer Jason Mills (Stomp, Beetroot), percussionist Marivaldos Dos Santos (Stomp, Beetroot) and guitarist Wes Mingus (The Revelations, Wu-Tang Clan).

Tickets for Thursday’s show range from $15 – $30, with higher priced tickets including copies of the CD and/or the vinyl record. Tickets are available here.

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