In the previous entry, dated November 8, 2013 and entitled Real Stereo, loudness wars and a fork in the road, I recalled the advent of the Loudness Wars and the fact that upon reflection as to my reasons for becoming a professional audio engineer, I was clear that the weaponizing of sound and music was not among my goals. Another realization that crystallized around the same time was that 90-95% (or more) of any recording’s ultimate sound quality has already been determined by the time the signals are leaving the microphones.
As I planned my future, I made three decisions. The first was that I would only accept mastering clients whose goals were quality oriented rather than loudness oriented. Next, rather than just come in on a recording project for the last stage of production (which mastering is), I wanted to work on the 95% or more that was the determination of the signals leaving the microphones—I wanted to do original recordings, in real stereo. To this end, it was time to start a label. The third decision was to design and build my own work place, with my own gear, so there would no longer be any need to rent time in other studios or to borrow or rent gear for recording sessions.
The second decision (making real stereo recordings) really led to the third (building a room) because in order to make the type of no-compromise recordings in which I was interested, I needed a room I trusted absolutely, that I would have access to any time I desired and which was outfitted with the type of gear I felt necessary in order to make and evaluate those uncompromised recordings. Since my preferred spaces for making recordings are real performance spaces, those in which a given type of music would be best served, such as auditoriums, churches, galleries, etc., my own room would be used for post-production, primarily editing and mastering.
Around the same time all this planning and deciding was occurring but before it was put into effect, I received a message that was to mark the beginning of a treasured friendship and a series of very rewarding musical and sonic collaborations, taking me into the creation of my own work space, the start of the record label, and beyond. The message asked if I was the Barry Diament who had remastered the Bob Marley & The Wailers catalog for CD release several years earlier. The sender was working on a reggae album and was inquiring about having me master it. I responded that I did indeed remaster that catalog and we ended up booking the mastering session, which was to occur at a local studio with monitoring I trusted.
As the session neared, I came to learn more about my new client and soon to be dear friend, Art Halperin. It turned out the esteemed record producer and talent scout John Hammond had signed Art a few years earlier, as the first artist scheduled to record for his Hammond/CBS Records. (Hammond signed a few other talented artists over the years, including Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Billie Holiday, Bruce Springsteen and Stevie Ray Vaughn to name but a few.) Art completed a 10-song album for the label but with Hammond’s passing, the project was not released.
Even before I heard the music, I knew I liked Art. I remember the mastering session on the day we first met in person. As all was being prepared and we got ready to do some serious listening, Art asked me how much consideration I give to level when mastering an album. (This was prior to the days when I got any concerns about level out of the way before taking on a new job.) I looked at Art and said “None whatsoever.” I wondered if the session might end then and there. But Art understood. And he stayed.
Relative levels between tracks would be adjusted if necessary, in order for each song to flow into the next, without the listener having to make any volume adjustments. Once the entire program was cohesive with itself, final level is set based on the loudest part of the program. Since musical dynamics were going to be left intact, with no compression applied, all that needed to be done was to ensure the overall level was set so that the loudest part took maximum advantage of the medium. The rest would fall into place naturally. And it did.
Like many musicians, Art had his own recording studio and was very interested in the process of record making. After that initial mastering session, he and I were to have many conversations about recording and about the approach I had become increasingly attracted to. The fact that Art often played more than one instrument or sang more than one vocal part on his own recordings led me to consider how the “direct to stereo” technique I favored could be applied while still allowing for the convenience of overdubbing multiple musical parts. (For more on this, see Recording in Stereo (Part 2).) This worked out so well, it has become Art’s preferred method for the projects he has recorded in his studio since then.
Through all of these discussions, I talked about wanting to apply what I’d learned from my microphone experiments to making a recording of pop music using techniques that had previously only been considered for classical music. There would be no opportunity for overdubs, no “punch ins” to fix mistakes, no post-production mix. The musicians would stand virtually naked before the microphones, which would capture them as they sound for real. Art immediately expressed interest in doing this with his band. Of course we needed to find a space in which to record, a space that would provide the right supporting acoustic for the music and instrumentation. Art said he knew of such a place too.
Plans were coming together for the recording project. This would also be the first using the new gear and the first to be mastered in the new room I’d set up. How far the gear had come since the original Sony system, which required a rack the size of a refrigerator, not to mention a mortgage. A top grade recording and mastering system would now reside in a laptop computer, with one external interface box. It was small enough and light enough to fit in a daypack for transport to remote recording sessions and was sonically orders of magnitude beyond the old system.
The most important part of the room, as it has always been for me, is the monitoring. For the room to be trustworthy, the monitoring must be able to “get out of the way” and provide access to the recording itself. Without this, nothing else really matters as the engineer would be left guessing — as I found the case to be with most studios and control rooms I’d worked in, visited or read about. To be clear, by “monitoring” I refer not just to the speakers themselves (i.e., the brand and model) but to the implementation of the entire monitoring system: where the speakers are placed in the room, where the listening position is placed in the room, where everything else is placed in the room (only after the first two have been properly determined), the acoustic treatment of the room, and the ancillary gear, from power supplies to cables. (For more about the monitoring, see Setting up your monitoring environment.)
I’d been very fortunate to hear some very capable loudspeaker designs over the years. Among my favorites by far are Jim Winey’s designs from Magnepan. The “Maggies”, as aficionados call them, are not like typical “cones in a box” speakers in that there are no cones and no box. Most importantly, I find they have a unique ability to sound, not like “good speakers” but like music itself. (This is much more easily experienced than communicated with words.) Properly set up, Maggies excel at “getting out of the way”, a characteristic I find critical if one seeks to hear past the system and gain access to the sound of the recording itself.
Years earlier and much to my surprise, I’d heard how much the cables connecting audio gear can affect system performance. In selecting gear for the new room, I spent many months listening to a number of top contenders for interconnects and loudspeaker cables. (I find it interesting that cables are still the subject of much debate in the audio world. I have yet to hear two that sound the same to me.) Of all the cables I listened to, several of the products from Nordost consistently stood out as I brought them back in to compare against others. With many types of audio products, certain designs are made to have a certain “sound” or color. I was looking for a design that did not exhibit this sort of personality. I wanted one that revealed just how different sounding every recording is from every other recording.
Uncolored devices reveal the many differences from recording to recording. When different recordings have commonalities in the sound, for example a certain character in one part of the frequency spectrum, it is safe to assume one is hearing a coloration in one or more components of the playback chain. Colorations reduce the inherent differences between recordings.
With the Nordost cables in the system, I felt confident I was able to hear past them, that they were merely passing the signal from one component to the next without editorializing. (Interestingly, they replaced cables that cost three times their price.) The combination of Nordost cables with Magnepan speakers has proven a magical one — two product lines that are extraordinary at getting out of the way, thereby providing unimpeded access to the recording. For listening, this allows the qualities of a recording to shine at their best. For recording and mastering work, this is crucial as it makes the difference between guessing how a recording sounds and knowing.
The last major hardware piece of the puzzle is the interface between the computer and the audio system. In the simplest terms, during recording, the interface takes the analog microphone signals and converts them to digital, feeding the signals to the recording software on the computer. During playback (for work in the studio as well as for just listening), the interface takes the digital signals from the computer, converts them to analog and feeds them to the monitor amplifiers for the loudspeakers. While these are often split into separate jobs accomplished by separate pieces of gear, a chance question from an acquaintance led to a fortuitous discovery. One day, a musician I knew asked me if I’d ever heard of Spectrafoo. I told him I had not but the odd name made me curious enough to look it up. What I found was a software tool for sonic analysis like no other I’d heard of before or since. But perhaps more significantly, I got turned on to the company that made it, Metric Halo.
It turned out that in addition to their software, Metric Halo also made some very interesting hardware. Their “mobile i/o” (or MIO) interfaces provided exactly what I’d been looking for in terms of a very high quality, yet portable unit that would serve as remote recording “studio” for recording sessions and as central hub of my room. Actually, I’d already selected a competing interface that had great specifications and great reviews. I set up a comparative listen and it was all over — I was ordering an MIO.
To complete the remote recording package, it was time to get my own microphones. I chose a matched pair of Earthworks QTC-1s (now called QTC-40), the first mics I’d ever heard that made my previous favorites, the B&Ks, sound a bit colored by comparison. The QTC-1s are outstanding at capturing the sounds that occur in their presence.
So far the results of the three decisions I’d made were taking shape nicely. I felt liberated from mastering clients who sought quantity over quality, plans were in place for making the type of recordings I really wanted to make, and a studio of my own was now a reality. Now, to put those recording ideas into practice. Art and I planned the next steps.