What is music production?
Or its more colloquial variant, what the fuck do you even do? And why should I hire you, mate?
Even people in our industry seem confused by the term. Especially artists. They pop the question a lot. It ranks pretty high on Google. Which is why I’m writing today, obviously. Be a lamb and say a prayer to the SEO gods for me, please.
It seems like, if you have a laptop, an audio interface and a pair of headphones, you qualify as a music producer. That’s pretty much it. If you have an USB microphone, that makes you a podcaster, though, I’m sorry. Simple as that. Short post today. Thank you for your time.
But seriously though, how the fuck did we get here?
I have a beautiful set of carpenter’s tools at my mom’s place. It belonged to my dad. So I guess that makes me a carpenter.
Sounds ridiculous? No more than a kid buying a midi keyboard and labelling himself a producer. Since when owning the tools makes you a craftsman? How about some God damned patience?
To be fair, the very word “producer” changed meanings over the years. Today there’s roughly three different categories you can fall into.
First you’ve got these young laptop cats in their bedrooms. They will make you a “beat” for the price of a Starbucks mocha.
Then you’ve got the old school blokes in the big fancy studios. They’ll figure out what the project needs, and put a great team together. This includes a tracking engineer, an arranger, a few session players, a vocal coach, a lyricist, etc.. They will provide all the necessary tools so that your songs could reach their greatest potential.
Then you have the guru type (think Rick Rubin), napping on the couch at the back of the control room. Like the great man says himself, he can barely play any instrument. He doesn’t have any technical knowledge either. But the feedback he provides has proved to be helpful to all kinds of artists over the years.
You will find all combinations of these three producing types on the market today. The first category appeared thanks to the home-studio revolution. There were home studios before, but it didn’t used to be as easy and cheap as it is nowadays.
Tracking records used to work this way: you’d have a producer, an engineer, and an assistant or two. If you were a small, unsigned local band, you wouldn’t even have a producer. You’d book some studio time and record with the engineer. He might give you some “producing” advice if he liked your band, or you as a person. But then again, he might not (think Steve Albini).
If you were signed, you would get a producer. The team would grow as much as the budget allowed. The producer would then bring in a few hired guns, like I mentioned above. Records were made this way for a long time, and we cannot deny that the recipe works. Each person in the room had a specific job to do, a special set of skills to enhance the song(s). Everyone was there to make the best possible music.
Labels operated the recording studios in those days. Which makes sense, doesn’t it? Every company was “producing” its own product (music) in-house. It was efficient, and it helped to keep costs down. At the time, producers were also employed by labels. Until the blessed year of 1966, when Al Schmitt, the legend, left RCA to go freelance.
A big part of the producer’s job back then was to deal with organisation. They’d manage budgets, book studios, book players, etc. In other words, a lot of boring admin. Yet soft skills were capital. After all, you would be dealing with artists, musicians and other tormented souls all day long. Putting together the best possible team for a specific project is a skill in its own.
I still do those things when I’m called on a project that will allow it. I know plenty of lovely studios all over over Europe. I’ve spent years cultivating relationships with their owners and managers. Depending on the budget and what is needed for the record, I’ll pick the right one and negotiate a good deal. I’ll get a great engineer, one that I’m used to work with, and a fast, quiet assistant.
If needed, I’ll call in some “mercenaries”, as we say: session players. I’ll put together a string quartet, or a brass section. I’ll even write some parts for them if no one else did. I will also spend time talking with the singer about lyrics, emotions, and performance.
These days, many young artists are confused about the way things work. And I cannot blame them. The industry has changed a lot, and in very little time. Many are quite surprised when I tell them I won’t be “producing” a whole track. To them, it means “making a beat”. Building a whole tune from scratch so that they can lay down their vocals. Then adding a bunch of LA2As and EchoBoys in the “mix”, an Ozone preset for “mastering”, et voilà! Done.
If that’s what you’re looking for, beat it, punk. I’ve got none of that for you here.
If you need a composer, hire one. That’s what it’s called, by the way. Don’t get me wrong, I compose a lot of stuff. But that’s a different job. A different set of skills. A different conversation. A different fee. It is not production.
Don’t dismiss me as an angry old geezer quite yet. I am well aware of the state of our industry. All this affordable technology + the pandemic now means that most records are made at home. The range of home studios is quite wide, though. The term can mean anything from a single USB condenser mic into a laptop, to rocking a full API desk down in the garage. It’s not just Dave Grohl.
Ironically enough, we’ve never needed music producers more than we do today. I’m glad that anyone can make music for a ridiculous amount of money. It is a revolution. But by doing everything at home, you’re depriving yourself from something important. It may be the single best thing studios brought to the table. Hint: it’s not the gear. It’s the collaboration.
Even if you were as green as linden leaves in May, you were surrounded by a team of professionals. A bunch of blokes who had been doing it day in, day out, for years and years. Decades and decades worth of experience in one single room. That’s the biggest difference.
Every artist needs guidance. Especially in the weird, analytical environment that is the recording studio. Bowie didn’t become Bowie by himself. Nevermind didn’t happen in the tracking room of Sound City by accident.
Every album you love and grew up with was made with a producer in the room. Do you still think it’s a coincidence?
Producing a record is about figuring out what’s needed, and getting rid of the rest. Rubin previously referred to himself as a “reducer”, and I’m quite fond of the idea. What you’ll need depends on the artist you’re working with. No two artists are the same. Some will need a lot to help them make a record, some won’t. In some cases, you have to bring in the whole team, like I mentioned earlier. Pull out the big guns and be there at all times. In other cases, you simply book the studio and stay the hell out of the way.
Your job is to understand which one is required. 50% music, 50% psychology, if you will. It’s not about making the kick sounds huge. It’s about realising that it’s almost lunch time, and making sure you have a lovely veggie option for the singer (#cliché). Quick tip: always make sure everyone is well-fed and caffeinated. Your sessions will run much more smoothly.
I was lucky to learn this “old-school” way of doing things as an assistant in the biggest Parisian studios. Working there several years, I caught the tail end of the era when records were still made this way.
What about now, though? After all, I started this article wondering about the job of a music producer today. It still requires a blend of all the skills I mentioned. I have nothing against beat-makers, apart from the theft of the word “producer”. Music, and its industry, are confusing enough as they are. We need to be a little more accurate with terminology.
Because it’s all about the music. My experience influences my approach to production. I apply what I learnt in the big studios to today’s world of home studios. What does that mean? My goal is to give you a similar experience to what you would have had in a proper recording environment. Even if you’re an independent artist.
First, I will put on my producer’s hat. We’ll have a chat, and I’ll evaluate what the project needs. Then, I’ll switch headwear and get to work. I’ll engineer, arrange, mix, play… Whatever is necessary. If budget allows, I’ll call in a few other professionals to make the record even better. Some extra players for example, if I hear instruments I don’t play myself.
I’ll give you honest feedback on the material. I love to have context on the songs, so I’ll chat you up and try to hear your story. I’ll do my utmost best to help you get into the right headspace for tracking vocals. I’ll try to make you discover who you are as an artist, help you extract it, and capture it on tape.
Except we won’t be using tape.
That is my ultimate mission. I don’t care about sales, streams or views. And neither should you. “The audience comes last”, as Rick would say. “The audience doesn’t know what they want. They only know what came before.”
I care about making great music. I care about making a record unlike anything you’ve made before. Something fresh, unique and inspiring. And I believe that we can achieve it together.
But then again, what do I know…
*****
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