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0 Shake well before serving. Part 1

  • 23/02/2011
  • Josh Watson
  • · Blog

Mixing Part 1: The tools.

There are a number of ways to skin a cat. The same can be said of mixing. Both will leave you with blood on your hands and a very upset girlfriend. But not for the same reason. Mixing leaves you open to accusations of not having any time for your loved one, and always having the thousand yard stare of a war veteran. Skinning your girlfriend’s cat leaves you open to accusations of horrible brutality.

Luckily I’ve only went down one of those paths. So without further ado here is my guide to flaying domesticated mammals:

Only kidding. We’re talking about mixing here. More specifically, the tools that get it done. But you’re going to need to pay attention and if you don’t understand what I’m saying, ask or you’ll have to repeat the class.

Mixing is literally that: taking more than one sound and mixing them together. But if that were the end of it I suspect it wouldn’t be a thing at all any more than opening the drawer to get a teabag is a named part of “making a cup of tea”. As it is, for a mix to sound good it has to fulfil some very difficult criteria. It has to be clear in its intent. It has to generally have a balanced spectral content: that is the relative amount of low frequencies and high frequencies. Too much or too little of any frequency range makes the mix sound amateurish. Most of all it has to be true to the intention of the song. It has to somehow evoke the dynamic contrasts between sections, the tension and release of parts, and the balance of instruments as the musicians intended. It doesn’t have to be based on reality, but it does have to make you believe it’s happening. We all know a human voice isn’t as loud as a drum kit or cranked guitar amp, but when we hear songs we don’t care because it’s made to sound believable.

Each part that I’ve recorded gets its own track. Some parts get more than one track if I’ve used more than one mic, as mentioned in previous instalments of “Josh drinks whisky and talks about recording”. Each of these tracks can be raised or lowered in volume, and panned anywhere between the left and right speaker, like so: (turn up your speakers so you can clearly hear what I’m doing!)

01 Levels and panning by Cirrusband

Mixes tend to need more than just those volume and panning adjustments to sound good, though, unless it’s a simple mix or has been recorded in the most expert way imaginable. And I promise I’ve not done that. Mixes also have to cater for the deficiencies of the human ear. We think it’s a great organ, and in some ways it is – I’ve read that if it were much more sensitive we’d actually be able to hear the effect of air molecules vibrating against it in Brownian motion. So in some ways it’s as high fidelity as it’s possible to be in air. It can detect an incredible range of frequencies and process them into something we understand as sound rather than just a bunch of vibrations in the fluid that surrounds us (yep, air is a fluid!).

But ears are also totally shit. Like, f*cking blind to sound.

If you’re listening to an instrument that has lots of bass, and there’s another instrument that also has lots of bass but is quieter, you probably won’t hear the bass from the other instrument at all. You’ll just hear a muddy noise that gets in the way of you being able to hear what’s happening. This masking happens in time too. A loud sound will mask a quiet sound even if the quiet sound happens a split second before the loud sound. The result of this masking is audio confusion: Instruments that should by rights sound clear, that sound great on their own, will somehow vanish without a trace into the mix, leaving only a sense of congestion and lack of clarity.

But we have tools to combat this. Clever little tools. The most powerful of these is the EQ (short for equalisation). It’s one of the first effects they ever made, because they needed it. With EQ we can filter out frequencies we don’t want to hear or wouldn’t hear anyway, add frequencies where there are gaps in the mix to help a sound cut through, get rid of bad sounds and emphasise good ones. Sometimes I think of mixing as being like trying to push a bunch of big plasticine shapes onto a little pane of glass, and having to somehow change the shapes to make them all fit while still keeping them recognisable. Sorry if that’s a stupid analogy, I genuinely imagine this when I’m mixing!

02 EQ by Cirrusband

The next most powerful tool is compression. It’s a mysterious tool that takes years to understand, let alone master. At its most simple, it compresses the volume range of whatever you put into it – the loud and quiet bits come out more even in volume than they were before. This is handy. A good live band can go from whisper quiet to roaring, and that sounds great live but it wouldn’t work on a recording as you drive along in your car or listen on the bus: Make it loud enough to hear the quiet bits and the loud bits would destroy you, make it quiet enough that the loud bits are fine and you wouldn’t hear the quiet bits. Almost all recordings, even classical ones, have compression for this reason. And used sparingly, we don’t even notice, because we expect to hear the loud and quiet bits clearly and our ears actually compress by themselves at high volumes.

Compression has more tricks to reveal. Weird little controls labelled “attack” and “release”. What do they do? Attack tells the compressor how long it should wait after it hears a loud sound before it actually reduces the volume of the loud bit. So if you set it to a second, the first second of any loud sound gets through unaffected before the compressor cottons on to you and ducks the volume down. In practice, a second is too long. Reduce it to between 20 and 60 milliseconds or so and you get this great loud and punchy spike at the beginning of each loud part, but then the compressor kicks in and keeps the rest of the volume manageable. That initial loud spike grabs the attention of your ear and makes them think “Oh! A loud bit! This is cool.” Except it’s not actually loud for the rest of the time. It’s just a trick.

The release knob tells the compressor how long after it’s stopped hearing a loud sound it should wait before it stops clamping down on the volume. This knob is really difficult to get right, mainly because even after years of mixing I often can’t tell the difference. But sometimes I can, and there’s usually a setting that “feels” good even if I couldn’t tell you exactly why I prefer it. But for a simple example, imagine Drummer boy is hitting the bass drum 4 times a second. If I set the release to more than a quarter of a second, the compressor isn’t releasing its grip on the volume by the time the next bass drum hit happens, so it will never give me the punchy attack I want: it’s operating too slowly.

Compression is hard to get your head around, Again, turn this up and you’ll hear what’s happening better:

03 Compression by Cirrusband

Really, EQ and compression are the two most powerful mix tools you’ve got – you can shape the sounds hugely with these two, and mixes have been done without anything else. There are other effects that can get pretty fun. Reverb is one, echo is another. Reverb is important – without it the sound is dead, and has no context. We’re not used to hearing no reverb. The first time I stood in a totally dead sounding room was the weirdest thing I’ve experienced. People next to me sounded 10 meters away, yet I could hear the slightest whoosh of air from a closing door. Or a sphincter. No hiding in there.

So, those are the most important tools. Next week, I’ll talk through the actual mixing of one of the songs on the EP.

Hold on to your cats, it might be a wild ride.

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0 You are a spark, shining in the darkness.

  • 20/02/2011
  • Josh Watson
  • · Blog

Vocals should be easy to record. One microphone, sing into it, bam.
That’s actually pretty much how it goes, from a technical point of view. On the first vocal session we tried out four mics, picked the best one, and put the rest away.

The bit that isn’t technical or easy is the performance. Vocals need to be as convincing as they are well executed – when we listen to music, we have a whole section of our brain dedicated just to listening to voices. And not just listening – we judge those voices based on timbre, pitch and delivery, even before we get into what’s actually being said.

It’s harder to get it right in the studio than a live show. Watching a live vocalist brings the rest of your critical brain into play too, watching the expressions on the singer’s face and the way they move to the music.  With our singer it’s quite easy to tell that yes, he’s into it, and yes, it’s moving him. He sings from the heart. The fact he’s grabbed YOU by the cheeks and is trying to sing straight into your soul is a clue.
On record, all we have is a voice. That voice is the most important thing on the record, because it has to reach through time and space and move you, the listener. And that voice is naked. You can hear any wavering notes, any off key moments, and you will hear them because your brain will draw them to your attention – “HERE! HERE IS A WEAKNESS!” I promise you, if the singer is going through the motions, you’ll be able to tell. How can you be moved by a recording of someone who isn’t feeling moved?

Our singer is called Whitty. I’ve never met anyone even remotely like him before.

My favourite ever Whitty recording moment came during the recording of our last EP – Whitty had his first go of opening track “Poker” and it was pretty good, but didn’t quite have the attitude. Chris, the recording guy, told him to give it some more bollocks. Whitty took his trousers off for the next take. He was literally hanging it all out there for the world to see, but for the slight obscuration by speakers, a bunch of wire, and a mic.

He delivered that vocal to us.

The man takes it seriously. He gets pumped up. He stretches. He does his best at times to be insufferable because he knows it’s a performance just like any other. His worst takes would shame most people.

With a strong vocalist like Whitty there are two main things to be judging in each vocal take, and I try to keep them in my mind as I’m choosing vocal takes, cutting lines and phrases, looking for the perfect vocal.

Pitch and attitude.

It’s natural that when singers get excited, go for the high notes, or try to create tension, they’ll place parts of their melodies slightly out of tune. It’s not bad or wrong, it’s one of the ways a good vocalist expresses himself and sounds human. It’s the reason I hate autotune – remove these “mistakes” and you remove the soul.

Sometimes you’ll have a part that is sung to perfection in one take, and with complete attitude and conviction in another take even if the pitching isn’t as good. You’ve got to decide which one is better, leaning as far as you can into the realm of soul and guttural truth without sounding like a wild pack of dogs barking into the night.

I like to think that me and Whitty are two people balancing each other on the line between genius and madness, but I’m never quite sure who’s on which side.

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0 Me. On Me. By Me. With added foreword by ANGUS YOUNG!!!

  • 09/02/2011
  • Josh Watson
  • · Blog

This blog is absolutely rubbish, and the post below in particular on the subject of guitars completely misses the mark. I don’t know what else I can say about this waste, this travesty, this injustice.

– Angus Young, Feb 2011
_________________________________________________

What is my all time favourite movie moment?

It isn’t the pivotal scene in 2001: A Space Odyssey where the bone thrown into the air cuts seamlessly into the spacecraft. Nor is it the beach assault from Apocalypse Now. Nor even is it Captain Kirk shouting “KAAAAAAHHHHHNNNNN!!!!!!!!” across the vacuum of space. No, nothing that epic. For me, it’s when Mr Bean gets up to do an improvised speech about the painting “Whistler’s Mother” in Mr Bean: the Movie. For some reason the idea of talking about guitars makes me think of that scene.

“Hello, I’m guitarist Josh…

…apparently…

And my job is to make noises by hitting the guitar.

What can I say about guitars? Well for one thing, they’re very loud. Which is good. Because if they weren’t, then hardly anyone would be able to hear them.”

Guitar has become ingrained in culture as an icon, artefact, and status symbol to those who care. It’s hard to work out what to say about it. Everyone has their own ideas ranging from the noise a guitar is supposed to make, to the faces you should pull when you do a solo. Here’s my favourite guitar. It’s a Gibson Explorer from 2007 I believe. Nothing that special, I changed the stock pickups for slightly smoother and smoky sounding ones.

I think my outlook is a little different from some other guitarists. The guitar is seen as the instrument – the thing you either coax beauty out of or wrestle with, depending on your outlook and style. I don’t think of the guitar as my instrument. My instrument is the amplifier.

The guitar amp is even more important than the Electric Guitar. Without the amp, there is no “Electric” anyway. I said last week that the bass guitar sounds recognisable no matter what you plug it into. The same can’t be said of the guitar. Its natural tone is thin, twangy, honky… it’s just bad. It’s the amplifier and speakers you plug it into that make it sound full, thick, aggressive and alive. Don’t get me wrong, a good guitar is better to play, but given the choice between a shit guitar with a great amp, and a great guitar with a shit amp, I’d chose the shit guitar every time. Some players are famous for their relationship with one guitar, their “signature” model. I have a relationship with my amp. It’s the one constant in all my sounds.

This is my Vox AC30. It’s a new model (2007) that I’ve made some alterations to so that it responds to my playing the way I want. It’s got a chiming clean sound with a rich tone. On its own it is a little brash sounding but that’s because it’s designed to sound good in a mix with bass and drums – the brashness ends up sounding clear and forward. Famous AC30 users include the Beatles, the Edge, Brian May, and Peter Buck, but it’s been on so many records I couldn’t list them. It’s not a very cool amp – it looks more like a piece of furniture from the 1950’s, because that’s when it was designed. Often, bands will pretend to play through a wall of screaming marshalls, but behind them the sound will actually be coming from one unassuming AC30. It’s believed the quintessential guitar riff from Smoke on the Water was recorded with an AC30.

When you turn it up magic happens, as with most decent guitar amps – it’s what makes them so important to me. It distorts the sound, runs out of power and squashes the tones so even the quietest note you play seems to jump out of the speaker. The high end fizzy sounds smooth out, the bass seems to tuck in like a jet plane’s undercarriage, and the amp sings. Maybe it’s screaming because it’s being pushed so hard, but it’s my favourite sound, and the way it responds and changes the feel of my playing influences how I play. It’s a symbiotic relationship and as I’m writing about it I’m thinking to myself I fucking love this amp. It’s like the relationship between a loyal dog and his owner. Except I think I’m the dog.

This is the amp in all of our recordings. Recording a guitar amp is a strange process because what sounds good in the room doesn’t seem to come across easily on record. Without touching the amp’s controls at all, just by moving the microphone on the speaker, you can go from a sound that’s muffled and dull to one that’s completely harsh and ear piercing. Somewhere in between is the sound you’re looking for. It’s a testament to how bad guitars naturally sound that they need to be plugged into amps that completely distort and mangle them to give us something usable. And the most commonly used mic to record guitars throughout the world is the Shure SM57 – there’s two in the picture below. It’s not a transparent high quality mic. It completely colours the tone of any sound you record it with. You can get them new for £60, which when you compare that to one of the industry standard vocal mics (at £1200 for the basic model) is nothing at all.

Those who have seen me live will think yeah ok, he talks about his amp, but what about his fucking stupid rack of effects? Don’t they play some part in it? Those who have helped me lift said rack will probably get angry at this point. What’s the point in it? Aren’t they important?

Yes, they are. I love effects. I love the variety of sounds you can create – the ambient washes of noise, the sense of depth you can make. But they, just like the guitar I’m playing, all feed into the amp. I guess it’s all one big instrument.

It’s a lonely life recording the guitars because I’m there by myself, wearing two hats at once – the performer’s hat, and the engineer’s hat. I find I’m good at doing both things at once because I’ve done that as long as I’ve been playing guitar. Where I suffer is that I lose perspective. By which I mean, I might get a great tone and play well on a song, but it’ll be the wrong tone for the song and then I need to go and do it all again. That happens regularly. If we had a producer he’d probably keep me right but he’d have to get his hat back from under the performer’s and engineer’s hats on my head.

It is fun though. Guitar recording lets you get creative, and I like to treat the basic drum and bass tracks as a blank canvass. I never just play the part I play live. I always record different sections, layer different tones and doubles, experiment with effects, and above all else, I improvise. I don’t do that much live, but in the studio with time to spare I absolutely love to let loose and just see what accidentally comes off my fingers. And because I’m the one mixing it, I can really do what I like. No one but me will decide whether it makes it to the final mix, or even if anyone but me will ever hear the results.

You can see why I lose perspective.

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