If you don't already know, The Vanity Suite was almost exclusively recorded and mixed in my basement,1 and the album is my first foray into extensive recording and producing.2 To make this record happen, I had to learn a lot in a relatively short amount of time,3 so, I thought it would be fun to write a short series of articles on the making of this record. I've found that writing can be an effective way for me to maintain what I've learned, and that putting my knowledge out there might jump-start some other budding engineer's career. That said, I offer this disclaimer: I do not consider myself to be a professional audio engineer. I have just skimmed the surface of the art and science of recording and producing, so there is much more for me to learn. It's also worth noting that this series is going to be very little "here's how I did it" (technical details) and much more "here's why I did it" (theory, philosophy, lessons learned).
With that out of the way, it seems appropriate to start with the most important lesson I learned while making The Vanity Suite:
Music is an illusion, and the thoughts and feelings it evokes are real.
To say music is an illusion might seem dismissive, but in reality, music (and art) is powerful and timeless precisely because it's an illusion. Think about your favorite novel or film. The characters and events in those works don't actually exist- they are representations of reality but are not reality itself.4 Yet, some movies frighten us and some books bring us to tears. Similarly, when we hear a song that moves us, those feelings don't leave the instruments and transfer to our brain; instead, the sounds stimulate a reaction within our mind that we are already familiar with: loss, lust, joy, anger, peace, fear, and the list goes on. Are these emotions less valid or impactful because their evocation is based on, essentially, a deception? No. In fact, music is one of the most powerful tools for empathizing and adding to our own emotional depth.
Why is it important to acknowledge the illusion? Because doing so, in the context of recording/producing, enables us to identify the building blocks of the art and manipulate them in an effort to stimulate a response. Knowing that sudden, loud sounds can be surprising, or that multiple sound sources can create a sense of space, is valuable when you're in the business of crafting convincing deceptions. I like to think of this concept in terms of painting: each individual sound is just a brush stroke on a canvas- meaningless by itself, but when combined with many other individually meaningless strokes, context can be established and a message can be communicated. What's more, the illusion theory provides a paradigm under which we can operate, enabling us to act with intent. If we don't have a way to understand the illusion, or a methodology to manipulate it, how can we hope to craft art that does what we intend it to do?
In my experience, the illusion theory can be hard to digest, and it is by no means the only way to approach studio production. Fortunately, one of the great things about art is that there is no right or wrong way to experience it. You don't need to understand how a recording is produced in order to enjoy it. I fell in love with studio albums before I knew anything about how they were made, so I am well aware that being oblivious to the deception can make it easier to enjoy. But being informed about the illusion adds depth to our experience and is a requisite for being an effective producer.
- I say "almost" because one track on the record, Voices, was recorded at Historian Recording Company with Sam Goodwill, but produced by me.
- I say "extensive" because I did work on a single for my girlfriend, Bernadette, prior to working on this album.
- Roughly 8-12 months. And, while I was the orchestrator of the project, I could not have done it without the angelic patience and expertise of my friends and colleagues.
- We're on a slippery slope here- I'm making an arguable assertion about the nature of reality that begs the question: What is "real?" While outside the scope of this article, I plan on making lots of assertions about the nature of music and, by extension, the nature of reality, in a later article. For now, all that is required of you, the reader, is to distinguish between art and the events or experiences that the art represents.