This site is a blog for musicians and music industry people. It is a free educational resource and it is also the way I advertise my music consulting services. I am an entertainment professional with deep roots in the music industry. Throughout my music career I have been a major label A&R representative, a music supervisor, an artist manager, a reality show producer, a bass player and the head of a digital record label.
Sean Beavan is a producer, engineer, mixer and musician who has had and continues to have a phenomenal career. You may not know Sean by name but you have heard his work. He has worked with Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, Guns and Roses, Unwritten Law from behind the board and as a member of the trip hop band 8mm you may have heard his work placed in One Tree Hill, Road Rules, the Real World or in several major motion pictures.
Tell me a little bit about how you got into the business, and how you wound up engineering, producing or mixed a string of platinum and gold albums?
SB:
I got into the industry by listening to AM radio in the early 70s- I was fascinated by it. I found a recording device in my parents’ drawer and got out the tapes and started listening to my favorite songs and the craziness that ensued. I started making tape loops, and I decided I wanted to make music. My goal was to become a producer. I figured the best way to do that was to learn how to play music, so I became a musician and played in bands and got on both sides of the glass eventually. Then I was lucky enough to meet up with Trent Reznor at the right point in time, and he and I started working together, and he took me on the ride.
Must’ve been a fun ride.
SB:
It was awesome.
I think it’s the first story I’ve heard where someone came into music not by being a guitarist or bassist in the analog age, but came into it being a music fan and doing home recording without having an instrument to record.
SB:
As a kid, I just loved music. I think the first record I bought was Dark Side of the Moon. And “Money” was the single. All the noises in the beginning, the cash register sound and the coins were so cool, and I did it myself. I found this recorder and read an interview where Roger Waters was talking about how they did the tape loops. So, I got out my mom’s sewing kit, just experimented with all of that. I even taped my sister talking on the telephone and put that into things and really just enjoyed the whole idea of recording. I became a musician from those experiences. I later played guitar, bass and drums and love playing and writing songs, but it was always from the aspect of doing all of it and not just necessarily doing the one thing.
You told your story up to the Trent Reznor point in all of three breaths. I’m a believer that luck favors the well prepared. Were you working with a lot of people, or was this just a chance meeting?
SB:
Oh yeah. I’d been playing for a long time, and I think the first time was for a talent show. A friend convinced me to sing lead, and I was kind of scared, but I did it, and then all the girls said, “Hey …” and I thought, “This is what I’m going to do.”
Don’t let anybody fool you. That’s the only reason we get into it at all. I loved doing that, and it was fun. I just started playing and singing and got to know a bunch of people, and as I was singing, I was the guy that ended up having to buy the PA system. So I got into all the microphones and mixing boards. I started mixing when I wasn’t playing in a band, and I ended up mixing every original band in Cleveland live in the 1980s. So I became friends with every musician in town, and Trent (Reznor) was one of the musicians. He and I happened to be in the two rival bands in town, but we both respected each other a lot. I was mixing live for his band, and he played keyboards for me when I was making demos.
What were these bands called?
SB:
It was 1984 or 1985. The big bands in Cleveland were Nation of One – the band I was in – and Trent’s band, with Andy Kubiszewski from Stabbing Westward, a band called Exotic Birds. Chris Vrenna was playing drums in it at the time. When they’d play, I’d mix them. Trent would pop into the studio and play on my demo tapes. And when he listened to the demo tapes, he said, “Wow, these sound awesome. Do you want to mix my demos?” And I said, “Yeah, sure.” I was originally trying to get him in my band, but then when I heard his demos, I said, “Holy cow.” So, I mixed the demos for “Pretty Hate Machine” which got him a record deal. And I said, “Anything you need me to do, I’d love to do.” And, I ended up working with him. We would later work on The Downward Spiral album together.
And that became the Pretty Hate Machine album…
My read on producers, particularly in the late 1980s and 90s was that you went through a period where everyone wanted to hire you when you had a hit, and then there was a giant lull lull. Most guys were usually hit or miss and didn’t last very long. But you’ve worked steadily for 20-some years now. Obviously you had a handful of big successful records, but was there any trick above and beyond that to working consistently?
SB:
I don’t know. I’m always interested in the next thing, and I’m definitely interested in the job. For me, the process is every bit as important as having hits. I don’t really care about having hits. I wish I’d cared more, because I’d have more money. But I really just care about the music.
I love working with bands that are doing something cool or interesting. Luckily for me, I happened to luck into some really cool music that people tend to like and tend to put on their top 50 record lists and stuff. I guess by having a resume like the one I’ve compiled, I’ve attracted records like that, like Slayer’s God Hates Us All, where you’re doing something and you know it’s going to become an industry standard.
I certainly knew you from Pretty Hate Machine, and the work you did with Marilyn Manson and Slayer, because I went through… well, I continue to go through a pretty awkward metal / industrial phase.
SB:
If you dug it once, you never stop liking it.
What I was getting around to is that you’ve really done a lot. 8mm is a band you play in now with your wife, right? ***Editors note 8mm is a trip hop massive attack / Portishead sounding group***
SB: Yes.
That’s really quite diverse. How have you convinced folks outside the genre for which you became known that you’d be a great fit?
SB:
It’s funny, my manager Shannon is really into the idea of being a renaissance man and always trying to change it up and do something new and cool or off the wall and different to keep people guessing and make them realize what kind of potential you have. I’ve always been interested in all types of music; I love everything. If Frank Sinatra was alive today, I would’ve been pushing to do a Frank Sinatra record. I just love that kind of music. So, when I started deciding that I wanted to do some music where I was writing for television or film or soundtrack-style music, the idea of writing in 8mm style, the more Portishead/Massive Attack/David Lynch-style soundtrack idea really appealed to me. I loved the fact it was very different than the super heavy, saturated stuff that I was known for. It was a real love that I had. So I was going for what I loved and what would also expand the boundaries people saw me in.
Definitely mission accomplished. I hears some of your 8mm writing and thought, “Wow … that guy?”
SB:
It’s funny, because my stuff has never been A&R driven. When I get gigs, and when people call me up and say, “I really want you to work on this record,” it’s the bands. They heard a record I did and fell in love with it, and the band asked the A&R guy, “Can we work with him?” And if he’s nice enough, he arranges to meet me. I got lucky that way. There was a Thrice record I did a few years ago, and they were interested because they’d heard a few records I’d mixed. One of their favorites was a Palo Alto record called Heroes and Villains. And Palo Alto is a much more expansive, U2ish kind of band that has some beautiful melodies and soaring strings and things and beautiful Radiohead-type guitars. They’d also heard Slayer’s God Hates Us All and really loved that record. What they wanted was a record that could run that breadth and gamut. So when it was pummeling you it was pummeling you, and when it was beautiful, you were immersed in that beauty. And they thought, “This is the guy that can do it.” It was really fun doing that record.
Are you doing mostly mixing these days?
SB:
Yeah. Mostly mixing. It gives more time for 8mm. Producing takes so much time out of the year, and I try to do more mixing so I have more time to write.
It seems like it’s much less of a sales process and less involved. Like you’re cleaning something up.
SB:
Exactly. You’re more imparting your taste filter on top of what is already done. They’ve obviously built something and sculpted it into what they want it to be, and then they’re asking you to put your overall taste over the top of it and make it do what they want it to do next, whether they want it to be more hyped or more beautiful or more hard edged. You direct it from there. I love that aspect of it. Plus, with mixing, I can mix practically anything. I get it once it’s in the mix stage. It can be country, dub stuff, jazz. I understand it at that point. Producing, I really have to get it right away and feel like I know exactly the direction the band wants to go in and run from there. There is less of a pool of people you can work with in producing in order to offer them the best. I don’t want to just take a gig when I know there is someone out there that would be able to do it better justice than I would. I have to know balls to bone that I’m the guy, and that I would make the best record for a band. Less of those things come about. I might get one or two a year, and that’s good for me.
That means when you’re really willing to produce something, you love it.
SB:
For sure. And I have to, because otherwise I would be blank and wouldn’t know what to do next.
Let’s talk a bit about business now, because you were a guy with a band making a name for itself in Cleveland back in the days of posting flyers everywhere. And now you have all this musical experience and you know all the executives in the traditional system. So, in theory you could leverage a lot of favors. But here you are self-releasing and doing your own thing. What are you finding? What is working for 8mm, and what is not? What has worked to make your own music fly?
SB:
One of the revelations is just how hard it is to market music. I used to have a little more of a producer’s bias about making records, and you get angry about the budget. You see the record’s budget, and the marketing budget is three times what it is. You say, “Just give me a little bit more so I can get these strings.” It seems counter-intuitive, and then you realize the other side: making the record is the given. You have to have a great record, but there’s so much more that is involved and goes on. It’s definitely made me appreciate a good, solid marketing plan and people who get the kind of music you’re doing. It’s hard work for sure, but I love it. With 8mm, we never looked at going to majors with it, because that wasn’t what we wanted it to be about. It was more that we really wanted to be able to do licensing as the main thrust of the band. We’ve been lucky enough to license practically everything we’ve written. That’s been very nice for us.
Tell me about how you accomplished that. The volume of calls I get asking “How do I license my music?” is amazing. And I sent people to aggregators, because I figure you almost have to be on the phone 24-7 to be on the phone at the right time for your one particular swatch of music when you have Sony Music calling on the other line with all of western music.
SB:
Absolutely. You can look at it as a completely daunting task, but the thing that an independent thing has going for them is that they don’t have the baggage of all the legal stuff that a big major label has, and just the hoops that have to be jumped through to get the publishing company and the record label to agree to the deal on the licensing end. As an independent you can say to the music supervisor, “And I own all the publishing.” And they say, “Oh!” It becomes much easier to deal, because they only have to deal with one person and can make the deal easier. You have actually a distinct advantage being indie in that regard. Obviously it’s great to have champions, and my suggestion is to get on the phone to every licensing house out there and try to get your music to them. We were lucky enough to get our manager and our record label that we put Songs to Live and Die By on to get in touch with Lyle Hysen at Bank Robber Music, who championed our music and has done an amazing job licensing us out to people. Before that, we had licensed several pieces through friends we had in the industry. We just got lucky on a couple things. Once you get a couple of things going, people look at it and say, “Oh, I know that band.” It’s like rubbing the Buddha belly. Once someone has done it, people feel freer to do it.
So, you found there has not been a stigma once you’ve been placed? I always wondered how a creative ad agency would take a group like The Heavy, who had a lot of placements in Kia ads, but I’m seeing it pop up in four or five other commercials, and I’m stunned.
SB:
I’m stunned by that too. The advertising industry seems to look at it more as, for example, if you get a song in a car commercial, as long as that song doesn’t appear in another car commercial, that’s usually the sticking point on the legal that they do. I guess it makes sense. They’re selling a feeling. If your song has been used in a Jaguar commercial, then someone selling dresses or caviar is going to say, “We can even utilize that in cross marketing and use that same song.” All of a sudden they hear it, and it evokes the same feeling. They don’t know where they heard it, but all of a sudden emotionally it’s there. Music is like that. It’s about memory and emotion, and it’s emotion first. If you relate something swanky to that music, you’re going to automatically think the product that’s being sold now is swanky too. You can use that to your advantage as a marketing firm. I think it’s kind of genius.
It’s bizarre. You’re kind of a different case, because you had a lot of traction in the industry and relationships you could leverage. But I find a lot of people have a hard time balancing being persistent with being annoying. How did you walk that fine line before you came on with Bank Robber?
SB:
We’re a team. Juliette and I are a duo, and we’re actually a trio now because we have a drummer now as well. Juliette and I do all the business, and my business is mostly creative, and then Juliette does the day-to-day. She’s on every social networking site and is constantly promoting the band online. This is one of the places we really were able to glom onto early. We had a really heavy presence on MySpace when MySpace was the thing, and we got tons of music supervisors listening to our music on MySpace and writing to us and saying, “Hey, would you consider us using this song and this advertisement or show?” And there were some independent filmmakers, and there was no money, but what they were doing was kind of cool, and we liked the way it looked and thought, “Sure, we’ll do that.” We started opening up to that kind of idea. It was mostly Juliette and our manager Shannon who was also handling some of those social networking sites that really helped with that. We really got a lot of traction out of MySpace when it was the site to listen to music on. That was a big point for us.
Today it seems that a great deal of the MySpace experience is sifting through people trying to leave flash comments on your site.
SB:
Yeah. MySpace screwed up. First of all, they did something with the code and the program that made it not work most of the time. That right there caused all kinds of havoc. And then they made it so easy for people to run these horrible bots. And every decision they made on messaging was poor, and they took a site that was awesome and turned it bad. In 2004 and 2005 it was great. It was so much fun and so easy to find really cool music. I mean, there would be one guy in his bedroom in Iowa, and I would say, “Oh my God, he’s my favorite artist.” It was so easy. We have a daughter who was young at the time, and she would just be listening to everything. I thought that if I had this when I was a kid, everything would’ve been amazing. They just really screwed up, and Facebook was smart enough to slide right in there. I’m sure finding the right way to utilize the new social networking will be the next wave for the next group of people. We were lucky enough to be able to parlay MySpace and that social networking. We were in the top 3 trip hop bands on MySpace for four or five years. It helped.
I’m going to switch gears. What advice did you give classically and what do you give now about selecting the right producer, mixer and engineer? Because that’s a huge decision, especially now that it’s really all the artists’ money again. A vast majority of the records being made today are self -funded vs. label funded.
SB:
For me, if you’re a band on a very limited budget and looking to get the most professional-sounding thing out there, I would spend most of your money on mixing. Obviously, production is super important, because it’s much easier to mix things that are produced well. Mixing is a black art, not unlike mastering. There aren’t that many people that can do it really well. There are plenty out there that are looking for work too, so you can definitely get a better deal on it than you used to be able to in the Halcyon days of the 80s and 90s. But that would be my big thing. It’s kind of like what Al Jourgensen said to Trent Reznor when we were starting the Nine Inch Nails tours. He said, “The most important thing to think about when you go out on the road is to take a great monitor engineer so you can hear yourself well.” And Trent turned to me and said, “No, the most important thing is that the people in the front row think the band sounds awesome, so I’m bringing a front house guy.” So that’s what I did. Because Trent knew that no matter how crappy it sounded on stage for him, it sounded awesome up front, and the fans were getting what he wanted them to hear. Those are the kinds of things that are important. You definitely need to have your priorities straight.
Any other parting words of advice to people coming up?
SB:
The record is just the starting point. You have to work to make a great record, and don’t stop if it’s just “good enough” in your opinion. You have to stop at “great.” And then when you’re at “great,” you have to start working. Because it’s up to you to promote it, and up to you to do everything. You have to have a show that separates you from the herd and have a show that you yourself would go to.
And that’s a big deal, especially in this market, where live is going to be where you will make the majority of your money. You have to provide people with an incentive to go see your show, and not just a show. Because now, every moment of every day, I have six or seven things I could do that are really fun and interesting. You have to make yours more fun and more interesting than what is on TV or in the movies or on the internet. You have to really provide someone with a reason to come see you, and don’t ever expect someone to do it just for you. You have to give them something important and special.
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You can check out Sean’s band 8mm and do yourself a favor and follow Sean on Twitter.
Itaal Shur is a Grammy winning songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer and who is probably best known for co-writing the massive single “Smooth” that re-launched Santana’s career. In addition to writing with Rob Thomas of Matchbox 20 on “Smooth”, Itaal has also written songs with or for Carol King, Ricky Martin, Maxwell, Jewel and Lucy Woodward. As one of the most common questions I get from artists is “How do I co-write or write songs for other artists?” I figured I’d ask a guy who has done it many times over with great success.
Itaal, thanks for your time. I know you moved to New York in the early 90s. Tell me about how assimilated into the musician community as a kid who just came to NY and didn’t have many contacts or resources?
IS:
I want to preface everything I say right now with… Actually have you read Malcom Gladwell’s new book Outliers?
I haven’t. I’ve read two of his other books…
IS:
He talks about how external factors play into and aid your path to success. We want to believe that it’s all hard work and determination but there are these external factors that happen which we could call “luck,” that enable you to achieve certain successes, like Bill Gates had a chance to program computers at age 16 because there was one at his school. Where the same guy with the same intelligence would not have had that opportunity and thus probably would not have had the road to success that Gates had.
It’s a pretty nerdy world we live in right now. It’s not like, “Hey, let’s get high and play music and some manager will take care of me and a record company will promote, I’m just the artist.” We live in a very hands-on, nerdy, “I’m promoting myself’ kind of world more than ever before. So the story is so much different now in terms of music. I’m just saying this so people realize that the world has changed a lot and some of the things that helped me might not work nowadays.
I agree that things have changed but I do also have a certain belief that people haven’t changed in spite of all the technology, and the way you navigate through the world – it might have different forms today – but that having a method of socializing and building a community is very important.
IS:
Yes, but the music business and the way the monetary aspect of the music business is has changed a lot, and that’s a big thing…
No argument here. Take me back to the beginning.
IS:
I was born in L.A. and grew up in Seattle and Cincinnati. My father was a very well-known composer of Jewish music. He’s a professor at Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati – liturgical music. He’s one of the foremost composers of Jewish music. My mom’s a choreographer. I was born in a big family full of musicians. In Cincinnati I had already been in a band that was really successful in the whole tri-state area. We had record companies looking at us and played to a lot of people. I had already had some success, but then I stopped all that and went to music school and studied jazz for a while. I went to college for only one year at the College Conservatory of Music in Cincinnati, and I studied jazz and arranging and composition. I already knew a lot because I was a music fiend. I already had a music studio and had a lot of equipment that I bought on my own money working. I was already producing and making things happen in Cincinnati. What brought me to New York actually was that I was supposed to go to the New School, but that didn’t turn out. I was interested in the whole downtown Knitting Factory avant-garde scene. I already had experience in all kinds of other music, so that’s what I thought was the new, fresh thing. When I came to New York I went to see a lot of shows and things that I liked, but I had to work for a while. It took about three years for me to get to a point where I could make my living only from music. I was working as a waiter, but I played a lot of piano bars – which they had a lot more of in those days. I would go and improvise for hours while people ate dinner, or I would play at open mic nights and play for singers and take whatever gig I could.
Tell me about that hustle a little bit, because I know tons of musicians in New York that are having trouble getting gigs.
IS:
I knew some people when I came to New York. I knew this really great guitar player named Jean Paul Borelli, he was part of the Knitting Factory scene, and he was really open and nice to me. He introduced a lot of people to me. I would go to the Village Voice and look for gigs, and since I played piano I would try to get gigs accompanying people. I would look in the Village Voice and there were always singers looking for accompanists, or I would go to open mic nights and went there and asked if I could play the piano there. I’m not the best sight reader, but give me chords and a lead sheet, and I can improvise. I can fake almost any song because I hear the harmony in my head, if that makes any sense. I didn’t need sheet music I could just say, “What are the chords?” and start playing…
I started to meet people because I would hang out. I met this Moroccan guy, Hassan Hakmoun who became pretty well known. He worked with Peter Gabriel and had a band called Zahar that I saw on TV when David Sandborn had that after-hours show. I met him through someone else, and he said, “Do you want to be in my band?” And we were playing the Knitting Factory and a lot of great places. He was mixing Moroccan music with funk and rock. We did that for a while. Then what happened was that I was looking for gigs and playing gigs, but there were a lot of cats I met that were way better than me in terms of jazz. They could just pick up anything and play it super fast. I’m a good improviser but more a composer who improvises if that makes any sense.
When did the Giant Step / Groove Collective thing come about?
*** Editor’s note – if you were seeing shows in the NYC area in the 90s you would remember the Acid Jazz / funk nights promoted by Giant Step – it was a real movement and a real moment in time. Groove Collective was one of the flagship artists of this movement***
IS:
I was kind of on the outs of this avant-garde jazz scene. I wasn’t deep in it, but what happened was that I started to really not like that music anymore. It was interesting, but my pop side started to come out and songs again. What happened was the first year I was working tons of jobs and had gigs here and there with Jean Paul and piano gigs and sometimes some other people, and then I met Hassan and started playing with him and started getting more into that world of playing gigs.
Then around ‘91 or ‘92 I saw an ad for Giant Step and went there at S.O.B.s and there were four people. I met the flute player and said, “I want to play here.” And he let me play there, and that’s really what helped me right there. I was working at World Yacht as a back waiter delivering food on these big boats. I started to play there on Thursdays, and we started to just play funky jazz with a DJ and it stated to become the thing. It really opened up my whole social and music life, and then we started to say, “Hey, let’s start the Groove Collective.” I think I had one more stint as a job, but in the meantime this whole time also I was working with singers and had some equipment like 4-tracks and sequencers and I was doing demos for people writing songs. And I would do a song for $100. I would write and produce.
There are two things that really changed my life. First, my brother loaned me money to buy a sampler, and I started to play with Groove Collective. Once I got a sampler, I could sample beats and I could get into hip hop and have all the beats, but we had to buy those records or ask people to give you songs on disk. That’s when my production started to get better. I was in Groove Collective, and we started to get more popular, and Giant Step started to get more popular – we started to meet more and more and more people and then at the same time I met some other people that started to like my productions, and I remember my last job, I would go to work and stay up all night doing beats – R&B and all kinds of beats. I had break-beats now, so my sound sounded current, because I wasn’t using drum machines anymore. If you’ll remember in the early 90s everything was about break-beats. That just pushed me into a whole other thing, and I started to meet people. I met Maxwell and D’Angelo and all these other people, and I also had this manager who would take my stuff to the record companies and get me real productions for $8,000-$10,000. And then I started meeting all these other performers. I was doing their music for them and waiting for them to get deals. So I was hustling as a producer and hustling in Groove Collective. I was always interested in doing my projects. I only did those piano gigs to make money, but once I didn’t have to do that anymore I stopped.
I hung out a lot. I was young and not just a nerdy musician. I was going to clubs and meeting girls and enjoying New York. I had no money, but I was out there trying to make things happen. I was always looking at different options. I was writing demos for people, trying to write songs with other artists. But the Groove Collective was what brought me visibility. When Groove Collective blew up in New York, and we had huge shows. It was just like this spontaneous reaction. I was part of a movement that happens once in a while that people latch onto for a good three or five years.
Giant Step nights were big. I saw you, I saw Jamiroquai, I saw so many people from that kind of sound.
IS:
It was just this spontaneous happening, and I just happened to be a part of it. Those are the lucky things that happened – these things that you fall into. I also think I’m a pretty good social person. I’m good with people…
It sounds like you network well. I don’t think people end up in those things because they are unpleasant in a social situation or look at their shoes the whole time.
IS:
Yeah. I was also interested in meeting a lot of girls and really having a good time in New York. I wanted to enjoy myself. The first couple years were kind of tough, but I started to get more of a New Yorker and enjoying myself and going out. Even when you’re hustling, you are saying, “This is a great city, and I want to enjoy myself.” There was a very spontaneous thing that happened at that time. There was the meeting of the minds of a lot of people.
When did you start getting calls from people who were established for your production skills? How did you make that transition?
IS:
I already had some stuff from people that were established, but it just didn’t come through. I had demos with them – new artists that were signed to labels. What happened was I just made tons of instrumentals, everywhere from straight-up Dre funk or Sade type music and some Nirvana-ish stuff. I was just making instrumentals, and those instrumentals got me in the door, because they could see that I was really versatile and I could do a lot of different kinds of stuff. They liked my stuff, and it was all on cassette. Having a lot of instrumentals can help a songwriter, because there’s a lot of room for someone to visualize what’s on top or who could be the singer. That’s why hip hop producers are not producers in the same sense as Mutt Lang, where they are responsible for incredible vocal production and a huge sound. They write a hot beat, and that hot beat gives them 50% publishing if it’s just with them and the rapper. But they don’t have to write any melodies. Most of them, that is. But what I’m getting at is that their beat or instrumental is what drives the music, and that’s what’s driven pop music except for band-driven music – hip hop and dance, which has turned into pop music. Basically, it comes from an instrumental standpoint and not from a words and melody standpoint, because the instrumental is what has changed the sound of music. The songs, I don’t think they are much different from 20-30 years ago. You hear a lot of songs on the radio, and they could’ve been done 15 years ago. They’re not that strikingly different. But it’s the sounds and the beats and everything else. That’s what really helped me a lot: sitting around making beats all the time and recording and recording and making new sounds so I could show people what I had.
What happened is, through that, with Groove Collective I met Maxwell and we worked together and wrote “Ascension.” I worked with Angie Stone when she had a band called Vertical Horizon. I was going to labels also a lot. I had a manager at the time who got me a lot of meetings with labels. And I would go there and play my instrumentals and he would say, “Hey, do you want to work with So-and-So?” And then Maxwell had some luck with “Ascension,” which actually became a classic R&B song. And then I had a manager from England who was sending me a lot of people from England. The thing is, it’s a numbers game, and you just have to keep writing all the time. You never know when something’s going to work when you’re working with an artist.
I worked with some artists for a few years, but they kind of lacked some ambition to take it to the next level when they had everything going for them. Some of them had deals but they were dropped. I was always working and making things happen. I did some re-mixes too. And another thing that started to happen was I started making all these dance instrumentals and went to small dance labels, and they would give me $1,000 to make small dance tracks. That paid the bills too. And then I did this record Big Muff on Maxi. They gave me not much — $8,000 to do a whole record, but I took it because I didn’t have any money. And I had a whole cool eclectic dance album that had some really great songs on it that people still play in certain lounge compilations. I was doing things at all ends. I was trying to make money at the same time playing with Groove Collective.
It sounds like above all else, you’ve consistently written. You’ve consistently put music out.
IS:
Always. I’ve been hustling on all fronts. What happened after Maxwell was that I wanted to do my own thing. So I started working on songwriting again and really working on writing real songs, not just beats. I put a band together of my own music. Lucy Woodward was in my band, and actually Genji from Groove Collective played in my band. We played in a lot of places, and had some labels kind of interested. But at the same time, my new manager told me Santana was looking, and I wrote “Smooth” and kind of abandoned my own project for a while.
I was basically following my muse, and I never became a copycat. I always kind of did my thing, and there was a lot of luck in it. Some of the things I did people liked, and then I would work with people too. But I was always trying to make things I liked. I was never that guy that said, “I’m going to make that song that sounds just like Lady Gaga.”
There’s a lot of that out there.
IS:
Yes, which is a whole other kind of thing, which is a very strategic way of making music, and which I have nothing against at all. I know people like that and they are really good at that. But music has always been my life, so I always have to enjoy what I’m doing. If I don’t enjoy music, I’ll do something else.
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Please check out Part Two of this interview. Itaal has a new solo record coming out for more information Follow Him On Twitter or preview his new music on Facebook
Tim Latham is a Grammy award winning producer, engineer and Mixer. He has worked with Lou Reed, Brittney Spears, the Black Eyed Peas, De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, the Fun Loving Criminals and countless other artists. He has been doing mostly mixing projects of late and was kind enough to take some time to speak to me after a overseeing the mastering of one of his latest projects while at Sterling Sound.
Tim thanks again for your time. As someone who has been in the business as long as you have been I was hoping you could tell me what you wish more artists would do before asking you to mix a record and then hopefully find out a bit more about how you have built the career you have today.
TL: Well, for recording purposes, hire an engineer. Always. Don’t let your friend who knows how to use Pro Tools be the engineer. You can find someone in engineering school for $20 an hour, even on a budget. It is money wisely-spent even if it’s going to be recorded on an M Box. You need a set of ears there.
You get a lot of files that are poorly recorded?
TL: Often everything needs to be replaced, and I have to re-do the drums. Any beginning band should spend money making their demo or record- it’s worth it.
Did you start out as an artist?
TL: I started off as an engineer and gopher.
What was it that got you sitting in front of the board eventually?
TL: I have no idea. You make your luck and create your breaks. It’s just a matter of how you take advantage of them when you get there.
You were at Battery when you started doing records?
TL:
I first started working in the studio in 1986 in Boston as a gopher guy. I didn’t know anything about anything. While I going to school, I was engineering in the studios trying to figure out what I was going to do. I graduated knowing that I know nothing, which I think was my greatest strength – being aware of how little I knew.
So how are you sourcing new clients lately? In your situation I am guessing the records you have made are like business cards?
TL: It is tight right now. It’s tough for everyone. I am relying on long-term clients and the other producers I’ve worked with for years. For all of us, the bulk of what we do – all our records are business cards. Most of my clients now are international.
And you’re doing mostly mixing?
TL: I’m about 95% mixing. I have no interest in production. We did a couple records with Fun Loving Criminals and now, I feel like you kind of set yourself up wearing every hat like that, if you’re a producer, engineer and mixer. If there’s something wrong with the record, there’s only one guy to blame. The engineer can blame the producer or the producer can blame the mixer, but when you’re wearing all three hats, if the record doesn’t sell, it’s your fault and you’ve got a Scarlet Letter. It’s very taxing. It’s a left brain/right brain struggle.
What is your advice before getting into the studio? How much pre-production do you recommend a band do before working on their record?
TL: As much as you can possibly get away with. I’ve seen more time wasted in the studio. The majority of time – about 80% — I spent in the studio was a waste of time. I’ve seen having pre-production meetings in the studio, bands not having their crap together before they get there, sometimes they get overwhelmed by being in the studio for the first time, which is understandable, but you need to make practice runs. Go to the local studio first. Be prepared.
Do you find that people with home recording gear and some recording experience are better prepared?
TL: I think they can speak the language. Sometimes it’s actually more hurtful than helpful. A little knowledge in the wrong hands is dangerous. You just get questions every step of the way. I’ve been doing it for 23 or 24 years, and this person has had a home studio for a week.
Musician Coaching: Any advice picking producers, engineers and mixers?
TL: Listen to your favorite records, even older records. Listen to your mom and dad’s records. If there’s something about those records you like – you may not even be able to articulate what it is – but you like those records. That’s how I thought as an engineer. I listened to records that I liked and asked myself, “How on earth did this record come together like that?” It’s not just about the songs, it’s the record itself. That’s what really piqued my interest in it. You can draw from all of those, but listen to the bands you kind of sound like. It’s kind of that easy. Don’t go with the first choice or the guys who sold the most records. Go with the records you like the most.
I also have A&R people just come out and say, “My God, the records that you worked on sold so many records.” I could sit here and try to take credit for that, but it’s impossible. I mean, I had something to do with it, because it wouldn’t be the same record if I did not work on it. The songs would be the same, and the artists would still be the same but it still wouldn’t be the same record. But to say I’m responsible for this record selling X number of records is just ridiculous.
I take what I do very seriously, but I don’t take myself too seriously. Coming up assisting and interning, seeing miserable heaps, I wondered who would possibly want to spend all this money being around a miserable heap like this? I said, “This is ridiculous. You’re getting invited into people’s dreams and you’re a miserable heap.” I wouldn’t want to sit next to some of them on a bus. If you become a good “knob jockey,” what separates you is how you get along with people.
Do you have a Web site?
TL: It’s in the works. More people find me through All Music and stuff like that. I have set up links on my Myspace for now.
Do you have any general artist advice? Are there other mistakes you’re still seeing?
TL: I don’t want to sound corny, but it is the new frontier. The old way doesn’t fit anymore. The mistakes people make are not knowing their inabilities and not having the right people around them to steer them in the right direction. I’ve seen plenty of times where younger bands have a best friend’s friend that has a business degree and is going to be their manager without having any clue as to how the music industry works. And he’s just making mistake after mistake after mistake. And I’m not saying that going with one of the larger management firms is by any means exponentially better, but it’s definitely better than having somebody who is completely inexperienced with the industry.
If you’re not properly represented, nobody will ever take you seriously, or even if they do take YOU seriously and they take the music seriously, if you have somebody who is representing you who is an inexperienced person, you’ll never get over the hurdle. The money is harder to get to. The people who are easy to deal with are the ones that are going to get the money, the contacts and get their music placed in a movie, music, in advertising or in a video game. If you are being represented by someone who has zero you are making it really difficult on yourself.
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If you need your record mixed, you can contact Tim Latham
