Sleep. It’s a complicated topic. And one particularly close to creatives’ hearts. In my experience, we tend to come in two different groups: the big sleepers and the little sleepers. The ones that can go for a full circle around the clock after finishing something great, and the ones grabbing only a few hours before the crack of dawn, waiting for sunrise as they start working on something new.
I lean towards that second category myself. By the way, when I say falling asleep in the studio, I don’t mean the post-session naps. You know, the ones you take on that questionable couch after a night of recording. When you don’t have time to go home, because you have to be back at the studio in a few hours. So you drop dead lying atop the sandwich crumbs and lost bits of weed, trying to catch some shut-eye.
Neither do I mean these times where you have session work in a big city, but no place to crash. The budget doesn’t allow for a hotel room, and all your friends have moved away. So you discreetly bring your carry on and tell the assistant it’s gonna be a long one. He can go home, you’ll be the one closing up. Another night on yet another couch. And another shave over that typical tiny-ass studio bathroom sink.
But I digress.
I won’t write about crashing on couches, sleeping patterns, the number of hours or positions (does anyone fall asleep on their back, truly?)… No, today, I want to address something else.
The power sleep has over your creative decisions.
Most days, I consider myself a Rubinist. He has been preaching this stuff for years, but I’ve noticed many people still haven’t heard of it. So here’s my experience with it.
Rubin’s approach is simple: he lies down on the couch at the back of the control room, eyes closed, barefoot. And he listens. Every once in a while, the legendary producer will speak a few words. He might tell you something is great, or suggest a different idea. But lying there on the sofa (and I’m sure his are as clean as a whistle, btw), he also tries to fall asleep. On purpose. Yes. And it has nothing to do with the quality of the music.
Why then? The guru postulates that, by riding that line between consciousness and subconsciousness, you make better creative decisions. It might sound a little far-fetched at first, but he might just have a point there.
From what I remember, I first tried it myself in 2017. I was living in England at the time, but went back to Paris for two weeks of sessions. The schedule was tight, working on a few projects, including a new record of mine. Free time was scarce, so I was working on it before and after sessions that were bringing in the dough.
One morning, I had some creative decisions to make. I had written and demoed more than twenty songs, and was having a hard time deciding which were going to be on the EP. I needed to quit faffing about. It was time.
I remember being tired as fuck that morning. I got to the studio a bit before eight. I opened the place up, turned the studios on, and made a fresh pot. Lying down on the couch, sipping the magic beverage, I played the tunes on the big speakers.
The caffeine wasn’t helping even a tiny bit, and I found myself dozing off a bunch of times. But when the last note rang out, I had a selection in front of me. In between states, I had crossed off the bad songs in my notebook. The clock was ticking, though, and I needed to prepare the studio for a session. I put the notebook away and downed another litre of coffee before the clients got there.
Later that week, I listened back to the selection. It made total sense. I didn’t remember how I got there, but it was a great collection.
Since then, I’ve often used that method, in and out of the studio. It works for me. Something happens when you turn off your brain. You only rely on your emotions, your gut feeling, your intuition. However you want to call it, it works. For creative use.
So don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t try to fall asleep while EQ-ing an annoying frequency out of a vocal for instance. But something definitely happens when you manage to slide in between states. Not fully awake, not deeply asleep: that’s where the magic lies.
But then again, what do I know…
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