music production

Late July Session at Q Music

Producing. One of the least understood gigs in the music world.  Just what is a producer, and what is their role in the making of music?

Definitely, maybe…

First, let’s get some definitions out of the way.  Although they share the same title, a Film Producer has very little in common with a Music Producer.  A Film Producer “is someone who creates the scenes and conditions for making movies.. [he/she]  initiates, co-ordinates, supervises and controls matters such as fund-raising, hiring key personnel and arranging for distributors.”  Film producers rarely have a whole lot of creative control – this is the realm of the Film Director.

A Music Producer has a lot more creative influence on a project, but the amount that a producer can affect the end result of a musical product can vary a lot.  Simply put, a producers job is to take the raw materials rendered by the artist to the point before recording begins, and help guide the shape of how those are turned into a final, coherent, artistic form.  Their role is generally collaborative, working alongside the artist (and sometimes the label) to best represent their vision.  A producer might also serve as an intermediary/advocate between the artist and the label, attempting to move a project to a point where both parties are happy with the results.  Producers should see the project from both perspectives – the artists vision, and the requirements of producing something that will be accessible and ultimately critically and fiscally successful.  The producer aims for balance.

So, what exactly does a producer DO?

Here is a shortlist of some of the hands-on work a producer might engage in.  I’ve kept this to the confines of a producer working with an artist on a record, but it can be more or less applied to other situations as well.

Mentor/coach the artist – help them maintain a healthy and productive mental state, improve on weaknesses while maintaining their confidence and the morale of the team.  Push for more when needed, know when to back off.  See the threshold of an artist or situation – what is the best that can be achieved?  How much is too much, when does pressure becomes detrimental?

Help select the best material from the artists long-list of work, suggest collaborators and/or other material to fill in any holes.  Artists may bring a massive collection of songs and sketches to the table, and that needs to be mined for those rough diamonds.  Sometimes, there might be a shortfall, and they need to be encouraged to write more, or find alternatives such as covers.  In some cases, the artist may benefit from working with an additional collaborator – another songwriter or lyricist.  This is a very delicate situation, where the artists confidence is in jeopardy.   A producer is like a doctor – what is their bedside manner?

Help develop the material/artist, improve arrangements, define a direction.  Some songs might still be sketches, need a chorus, a bridge, a hook, or some other X factor – a sound effect, or production style.  The material may be in a very simple sketch form, and the producer will help arrange it for band, and suggest instrumental parts that enhance and define – a brass section or string quartet for instance, or even decide it should be for voice and guitar only.

Help determine (and then maintain the consistency of) the sound of a project – what instruments, styles, materials and methods are going to be used to achieve a specific result?  A Death Metal band will require vastly different production styles and materials than a Bluegrass band.  The producer has to have a big-picture, overarching view of the project as a whole.  A producer’s mind is an encyclopedia of techniques and technical knowledge, as well as an idea factory that can problem solve quickly and effectively under pressure.

Guide performances – create a situation that brings out the best in an artist.  This involves more coaching – knowing the psychology of your artist – knowing what they’ll need and providing it before they ask.  This might involve creative problem solving to make them feel more comfortable in the sterile studio environment, or finding an amazing instrument that helps their playing.  It also means saying “don’t worry – it’s all taken care of”, and putting out fires, handling problems, and generally making it seem smooth, seamless, and fun.

Bring it together -  Select the appropriate studio(s), players, collaborators, equipment and instruments, engineers, which will help to contribute to that final sound.  Great producers are very well connected, and have a vast network of musicians, engineers, and resources to select from.  Once you have great material, and great people to perform and record it, very little can go wrong.  On the other hand, the wrong person for a gig can sap time, creative energy, morale, and money from a project.

Perform on the record – many producers are also excellent artists and musicians in their own right and can leave their mark on a record in a very tangible way by contributing musical material.

Oversee the entire record production process from tracking to mastering, and make hard decisions when something isn’t working to toss out, move on, re-invent, overhaul, start-over, salvage, etc., while maintaining high morale and creative effectiveness.  If something isn’t working or can’t be saved, the producer’s ‘bedside manner’ is incredibly important – the artist and the team must never feel that all is lost or that something horrible has happened – it has to feel like a positive part of the process, and that progress is being made.

Stay out of the way when necessary – sometimes, a producer’s job is to shut up and stand back – let the process happen on it’s own and only gently course correct as necessary.  To much messing around can destroy natural organic performances, and too much control can crush the creative process, and the ‘happy mistakes’ that you want to occur.  The producer must also be able to see those for what they are, and jump on little opportunities that others might miss.  They have to know what take has magic in it, and not overtax the artist with too many options or extra work that doesn’t need to be done.

That’s a take!

There are so many variables in the making of a musical recording.  What I’ve talked about here is based on some of my experiences, and many conversations with those much more experienced then I.  What do you think the role of the producer is/should be, and what are your experiences in producing or being produced?

"Mobius" by Kevin D. Clarke

In a previous post, I described my process in creating the music for Jason Leaver’s video installation, Mobius, which premiered at Scotiabank Nuit Blanche on Oct. 3rd.  The experience of being a part of this project was fascinating on a number of levels that I felt were worthy of sharing.

Public Space

Before Nuit Blanche proper, Jason was invited to preview his work in a public setting, namely Eaton’s Center mall in downtown Toronto.  In this environment, it was very interesting seeing people’s reaction to the work.

Context has such a powerful effect on how people view and respond to a piece.  By taking it out of the gallery setting, I wondered: Do you get a much more natural and immediate reaction, without the anxiety or preconceptions of how art ’should’ be viewed?

Jason had used yellow tape to secure cables to the floor – these had the unintended appearance of police tape cordoning off a no-go zone.  Many people approached the exhibit with genuine curiosity, but were reluctant to cross this invisible ‘threshold’.  This was exactly the opposite of what Jason wanted, but luckily he was just the man to handle it.  Jason fears approaching no one, and with big arm gestures and engaging banter would quickly usher these shy observes into the center of his piece, pointing out elements of interest and suggesting different ways to get the most out of the experience.  His enthusiasm and willingness to explain without a hint of condescension was catching and inspiring.  Jason is about as unpretentious as they come, and simply oozes pure joy about his work and people’s reactions.   His love is a love of the work, not of what the work will get him.  It’s not about him, it’s about the viewer’s experience.  He is a brilliant ambassador to the world of art – when I saw how engaged and joyous the viewers were  in their experience, I thought – this is it!

Interpretations come in many forms!

It was also very interesting to view the work in the context of a mall from an aesthetic and technical perspective.  Already a surreal piece, it became even stranger when seen next to a Sears and trendy clothing shops.  The bustle of the mall, the noise, and people’s surprise and wonder at this unexpected object all added to and changed it’s meaning.  My own interpretation of the piece is that it works as a commentary on the modern cubicle dweller, the feeling that you are trapped by the forces of convention and commerce to perform the same actions perpetually, day after day.  As a location then, a mall and it’s association with the cycle of work/spend/work/spend, is kind of perfect.  When I asked Jason about the most unusual comment he received, he told me about a woman who was very offended and more or less yelled at him about “playing at being God”, and how could he keep this poor man trapped in this terrible loop?  The suggestion that he could stop the cycle at any moment using a remote control was met by more righteous anger, as if it  were being suggesting that, like Jesus, he was able to perform miracles.  Blasphemy!  Congratulations, Jason: you’re now ‘officially’ an Artist.

Ephemera

For my part, it was very interesting to be part of something where the work existed only for the short time it was installed and running.  Sure, my music files still exist and can be played on any manner of system, but the ‘real’ work – Mobius – in it’s intended final form, exists specifically in it’s four screen projected state, with the sound played back by four independent speakers associated with each of the screens in the quadrant.  The experience of standing in the quadrant, and how the music and visuals affect one another cannot be recreated in any other manner.  So this was it – I would experience it for those short moments, and then it would fade to memory.   The surprise of how the visuals and sound interacted was also a treat – there were elements I left to chance, and stuff that I had no way of properly previewing.  In an age of the instant gratification of orchestral mock-ups and digital photos it was a delicious tease, and I did linger and savour it for much longer because I knew after this it would be gone, probably forever.  This must be what composers must have felt like in the years before recordings – their orchestral works would be heard during rehearsal and performance, and not again until another concert could be mounted.

A full moon and Nuit Blanche!

What a vibe, what an energy!  It was incredible to see so many people out wandering the streets and taking in the sights and sounds.  It was a youthful, vibrant, excited, and positive feeling.  After taking in a number of exhibits (which included people being suspended in folded pentagram cradles, a giant pool of vodka, and a midway of sorts with rides supposedly operated by ex-bankers), my wife, my friends Aaron and Goran and I finally found our way to Mobius at around midnight, which was situated in a gallery in Cabbagetown on the Eastern edge of Zone A.  The small, single room space was stuffed to bursting with people, and a very satisfied Jason sat off to one side listening to the many conversations of observers as they discovered and interpreted the piece.  The reception it was getting was fantastic – people ‘got it’ and got into it.  I think the fact that there was a mystery unraveling before their eyes was a particularly attractive.  I enjoyed the somewhat claustrophobic but intimate setting, and having the piece projected on fabric added a kind of mysterious ephemeral quality.  I was surprised to find that I felt the sound at the previous installation was better; not in terms of quality, but in terms of consistency.  The music and the film are each the same for each of the four screens, but at an offset.  When the music played on 4 identical speaker systems, this sense of the material being the same but playing with and against itself was more clear.  But this was a small technicality and certainly did not detract from the piece on whole.  A great moment was when a group of film students enthusiastically told Jason of how inspiring the experience was – they were genuinely excited.  When Jason asked one about her background, she stammered a little, and Will (the actor in the film) came up behind Jason and teased:  “He’s just a man”.  Industry accolades are great, but there is a special thrill when a student of your craft is excited by your work.

In the end, I feel very lucky to have been part of this project.  Firstly, because it was a successful work and deeply satisfying for me, but also because I got to see it in a number of contexts and iterations, which was terrifically interesting.  I also got to go from being a fan of Nuit Blanche to an active participant, and got to enjoy the feeling that I had helped in making someone’s night just a little more magical.  It was a memorable evening that even the rain and a lingering cold couldn’t dampen, and I am already counting the days until next year.

The Mysterious Mobius

I was recently asked to produce a music/sound score to an installation exhibited as part of Scotiabank’s Nuit Blanche 2009 in Toronto.  Billed as  ‘a free all-night contemporary art thing’, it transforms the city for a 12 hour period, as over 500 artists use public, gallery and ‘unexpected’ places to exhibit their work.  If you’ve ever been, you know it’s a blast and absolute magic – and for me, getting to be a part of creating that magic was very exciting.

Jason Leaver’s “Mobius” is a mysterious piece – a video installation with four independent screens facing one another in a quadrant, each playing the same film footage at an offset of %25, and looping perpetually.  The film itself follows a loose narrative, with no real beginning or end – a man is caught in a series of actions and events which lead him inexorably back to where he “started” – a sort of time/space shift where he begins his “loop” again.  The real brilliance in the piece is how the film interacts with “itself”, via the screens and the offset.  The character of the man is at times aware of and interacts with himself at different points in the loop – we are never sure if he is aware that it is himself.  These points sync with one another in each screen;  while one uses the phone, the other answers, while one calls out, the other can see and hear a shadowy figure across the way, calling out.  Once the installation is running, it is a compelling concept – the character seems to ‘reach out’ out of the time-space of film, across the space of the exhibiting area and the viewer, to communicate with himself in another time.

My first challenge was to decide what the music was going to address:  the character and his motivations, or the conceptual, formal aspects of the film?  In the end I didn’t want to make too much of a statement on the piece itself, and rather treat it in a strictly formal way – enhancing the mood of the piece and offering moments of focus that aligned with the action while interacting with the other screens/events.  I began by sketching out the action on paper, plotting out the events, and producing a “quad” time-line to see  interactions and relationships.  I liked the idea that to a certain extent, the final result would be left to chance, and so I began experimenting with sounds and processing.  I responded to the feeling that I got from the footage: the grim, urban colors, the emptiness, sense of foreboding and confusion, and the eerie surrealist quality of the ’story’.  To address the idea of temporal loops  (real or imagined/metaphoric), I played with reversing some material, and gave the whole a reverb drenched, desolate quality.  Heavily processed violas and oceanic guitars seem to moan and cry from afar, while the sound of an ancient ceiling fan I a sampled and shifted down 3 octaves, rumbles ominously but nearly imperceptibly below.  Strange and alien motifs ring out in murky space, drawing the observers attention around the quadrant to correlating events.  Once I laid up the first draft , I realized that even a small amount of material will sound tremendously busy and overwhelming when stacked 4 high, and so I had to revisit the material and cut out a large number of elements.  Eventually, I found the balance that resulted in an extremely sparse track on it’s own, but worked when played in the quadrant.

Check out Mobius at Scotiabank Nuit Blanche 2009, Zone A Independent Project, Oct. 3rd in Toronto!

"Converse"

Photo by haydnseek

Producing music and sound design for live theatre presents some of the most unique challenges you can face as a creative composer, especially if you are used to working in the linear medium of film or TV.  There are some similarities, but also a number of important differences, which offer surprising opportunities and rewards.

Won’t Get Fooled Again

As a composer for media, you can get seduced into thinking your music is better than it actually is, if you compose while running picture.  Just as music can lift a scene, in turn the film (acting, dialogue, and the cinematography) can very much lift the music, giving it importance and meaning that may not be inherent!  This is one of the big lessons of working in theatre, where you are forced to work away from the scene – you can’t take it with you, and it’s going to change anyways!  In order to work ‘away from picture’, you must absorb the scene and have a complete handle on it, both in terms of the emotion/mood/story/meaning/etc, and the exact timings for ‘hits’ and changes.  Once you have those nailed down, you can focus on writing strong music.  When you bring back your work and line it up, you can then make any necessary adjustments, but your mind will no longer be seduced or divided – you’ll be confident knowing that you focused on writing great music, and now can focus on making sure it works to picture.

Equal and Opposite Reactions

One of the first things that is apparent before you even begin working on any production is that things are always in a state of flux – as the show moves towards opening night, it becomes more and more polished, tight, and predictable; however, even during a run it can still change and evolve in subtle ways.  The actors find new motivations, hook onto some energy of a particular night, and develop their characters and relationships as they grow through the show.  In film, the composer will usually score a ‘locked’ picture (or something like it) – the scenes are static – a performance is frozen in time and will never change.  On the stage, a scene will never be repeated exactly the same way.  The actors respond and react, they find inspiration, they expand and contract.  In film, when you put your music against a picture, you can have a powerful impact on the reading of that scene.  In theatre, there is an additional layer – once you bring music into the ‘picture’, they respond and react to it, changing the impact even further and more deeply.  One of the most rewarding aspects of working in theatre as a composer is that you become involved early, and are truly one of the team – a group that becomes very close as the show progresses.  You create in response to them, and they in turn to you – it’s a very organic and multi-layered process.  There is a great thrill in watching an actor ‘hit’ their mark, and use your music to leverage their performance, in turn making your music work in new, different, and often better ways.

Tick-tock tick-tock

One of the advantages of a locked picture, a static and unchanging scene, is that you can write cues with to-the-frame accuracy.  Trying to ’spot’ a scene in a play is kind of like trying to hit a moving target – an amorphous mass that congeals as rehearsals progress.  It starts loose and improvisational, and slowly becomes more polished and exact.  When you begin the process, it’s nearly impossible and pretty much useless to try and time out scenes and ‘hit’ any points.  As the rehearsal process progresses, you then can sit in the dark with a stop watch (bring a flashlight!) and scribble notes furiously.  Create a cue sheet, much like the one you would use for a film, which includes Act and Scene, page number, line cues, length, and notes on the music itself.  You will need to be very integrated in the team, and have an ongoing communication with the Director and the Stage Manager, and whoever is ‘running’ the show in terms of audio.  As things develop and change, everyone needs to be on the same page – the chain of command is important here as well – you will not be approaching an actor with a request that they speed up their monologue because your cue is running out.

Designing Sound Environments

Another aspect to working in theatre is that you may also be the sound designer for the show, depending on the budget.  This means you will need to have at your disposal the means to create sound environments and cues.  This may range from extremely ‘natural’ (trying to create a sense of time/place/space) to very abstract.  Sounds may come from a production library, or from field recordings you capture and manipulate yourself – everything from a doorbell ring to the sound of a dog barking in the distance, a crowded bar or a street scene, music playing on a radio or waves lapping on a shore.

Test Drive

Once you have assembled your cues and applied the necessary treatments, they will be tested and adjusted for the space itself during ‘tech week ‘  – when the show is run in the theatre space, with complimenting lights and sound (aka ‘wet cue-to-cue’).  All technical adjustments are made here – crunch time!  Whereas in film you ship off the final mix for dub and don’t have to worry about how it will sound in the theatre, it is your job to make sure everything sounds as it should in the space and on the system the space uses .  From the very beginning, you should make yourself familiar with the sound system and how the sound will be run – samples triggered via midi?  Run off of a laptop using a cuing program like Q-Lab?  Via a two-deck CD player?  These things become extremely important once you hand over the sound to the sound tech running the show – you want to make it reliable, fail-safe, easy, and effective.  During cue-to-cue, you’ll be calling out changes – volume up/down by how many dB?  Cross-fade longer/shorter?  And so on…

This is just a very introductory overview on designing sound and music for theatre – there is a lot more to know and learn!  If you are intereseted, a great resource  is Sound and Music for the Theatre: The Art and Technique of Design, Second Edition by Deena Kaye and James LeBrecht.  It covers every aspect in great detail, and is a good reference for someone familiar with audio and music looking to get into theatre.

What are some ways that you branch out and expand your artistic and technical horizons?