August 04, 2003

Sounds Good Let's Move On

Yesterday was back-up vocal day, though we did a few keyboard tracks and some percussion overdubs in the midst of everything. In many ways, the back-ups are the most frustrating part of the whole recording experience. My vocal arrangements can be ridiculously grandiose, especially this time around. I hear the parts in my head, and I work them out on the piano and demo them on submixed multitracks at home, but when it comes down to singing them into a mic and getting them to come out right, it's way more difficult than it seems like it ought to be.

Bobby and Ted are great singers, and both of them have really nice-sounding voices (far nicer than mine, which isn't all that hard to achieve perhaps, but is an added irony in this situation.) But we run into the same problem I've mentioned over and over again since I started trying to document the recording process: trying to use words to explain sounds is nearly impossible. It doesn't matter how much you practice, or how well-conceived your arrangement is. You'll have trouble explaining how it's supposed to go, and executing it properly, regardless of how great a singer you are. And even if your description is perfectly accurate (i.e., "singer A sings the major 7th, while voice B slides from an octave above the root up to a 9th, while the lower root is covered by singer B, the organ doing the fifth. No third.") you still run into problems trying to make it come out of your throat properly.

Plus, when you get up the mic, or when you're sitting at the board having explained your nutty idea to the other poor schlep who you've just tried to explain it to, you often can't remember what the hell you were supposed to be singing. And sometimes it turns out that no one really knows. It sounds good on the demo. But what exactly are those notes? Every time I go through this, I say to myself, "self, next time you should really write this stuff down." As goony as it sounds to imagine bringing in "charts" for the vox, it would probably help. Last night, when the producer and engineer went out for dinner, Ted and I listened to some of the the demos, trying to construe and reconstruct the long-ago submixed notes, frantically scribbling them on paper plates (the only paper available) with loads of question marks. It would also help if I kept the parts separate on my demos, but I only have eight tracks at home; sometimes I end up with four or five distinct, multi-tracked parts on a single track. So I'll hear it and say "that's supposed to be a minor 9th." But hell if I can figure out the precise configuration of the different voices and instruments that made the demo sound right.

Of course, if I had unlimited time, I could just repeat the home process in the studio, trying everything out till it was right. But we don't have that kind of time. So you have to scramble, and inevitably parts that are supposed to be there don't end up happening, leaving yet another psychic scar that will trouble your soul and fill you with remorse and melancholy for the rest of your life. (My soul is pretty much one big, hardened callous from this sort of thing over many, many years-- yet it somehow still has the propensity to whimper an endless stream of silent self-pitying laments over what might have been. Engineer: that sounds good let's move on. My eyes say yes, but my soul is crying in the corner. I've heard there's a drug you can take for that.)

I think one of the main difficulties is that the process is so tedious, especially when you're recording parts that are not going to be very prominent in the mix and are not as important as the other parts which are more fun and which you also don't get to spend enough time on. Sometimes you have the right idea, but it's in the wrong voicing, say, and you don't have a whole lot of time to experiment to get the combination that's going to work. Sometimes you only have one shot at "selling" the part to the other interested parties. If you blow it, the part is gone. There's so much else to work on that there's not a lot of room for tinkering, especially in the face of a room full of skeptics. I put a sketch of the vocal arrangement on my demos, but I've found that it often doesn't sink in that way. So I often feel like I'm "auditioning" for my arrangement when I'm doing the parts or trying to get other singers to do them. Sometimes, even when I get my way, I can tell they're humoring me and not really seeing it the way I am. ("OK, I'm going to do another track of that." "Really? Uh... really? Well. Hmm. All right. Okay you're rolling...")

Last night, we ran into that kind of situation with one of the more deceptively complicated arrangements. (I say "deceptively complicated." I think Kevin described it as "insane.") This is on "Elizabeth or Fight!" The basic guitars are playing very straight chords in a minor key and the lead vocals are very straight as well. The two e-bows and the four back-up parts, however, make some of those chords into jazzy, strange-sounding chords.

One of them is a simple major 7th, but it sounds strange-- cool, in my estimation-- because of the context; the other is much weirder, and I don't even have the music theory at my command to describe it without looking at a keyboard which would not be convenient right now. It centers around the fact that the flatted third of the C minor is the same as the 7th of the F, but the instruments aren't always playing enough of those chords to make it clear exactly what they are till the voices come in, so sometimes you get a Cminor to F7, while at other points you get a Cm9 to F6. I think it's a cool effect when it comes in on the second chorus, having set up a more rational-sounding context the first time around. But when you've been hearing the song for weeks without the completed chords, it might take some getting used to. I just hear it in my head the whole time. Anyway, it took me awhile to realize that everyone but me thought this was some kind of mistake, like I was accidentally singing the wrong note. And I as was trying to get my parts right, they were trying to "fix" them by changing them to more rational-sounding notes. (It's like: "You're flat again." "Damn, hey wait a minute, I'm supposed to be flat-- it's a minor chord there." "It is?" OK-- that's an exaggeration, but that's the kind of thing I mean.)

Eventually, I got it the way I wanted it, pretty much, though if we'd had time to work on trying out different voicings of those notes we might have done even better, and everyone might even have been happy. In a perfect world, we'd be able to take some time off from the song and give it another shot, but as it is, with the back-ups seated properly in the mix, it basically does what it's supposed to. I'm just going to pause for a moment to imagine that perfect world again, where I'd also get to add around a dozen voices doing all those things. Ahhh... but, back to reality: I think I've sold Kevin on the major 7th; I have a feeling I may have to fight for the minor 9th, though.

And it's all just four beats, one syllable, the word "or."

I'm happy with the parts we have so far. But today is the absolute last day of overdubbing. We can afford no more. I'm going to add my contribution to the back-ups, including some of the weirder parts, today. I might not quite get my ideal choir of insane/retarded angels on every song, but we'll probably be able to come close on some of them. I think we'll just make it, though we may have to stay up all night. But it's a bit scary, nonetheless.

Posted by Dr. Frank at August 4, 2003 06:10 PM | TrackBack
Comments

For those of us who are unfamiliar with the whole studio production process, your descriptions are a great insight! Production stories often seem to fall into one of two categories. There are the basement 4-track fiasco stories (which always wind up being stories about a trip to a local liquor store, or stories about so-and-so's girlfriend screwing everything up), or there are the "I'm so over recording" type that the big-time rock and rollers always give on VH1--"We went into the studio and banged out 'Sticky Fingers' and that's how it was." The whole process has a lot of small, interesting details that aren't often discussed.

Thanks, Dr. Frank!

Posted by: sheckie at August 4, 2003 09:46 PM

My favorite detail here was actually the thrown-away observation that paper plates were the only paper available! Classic! I've been in recording situations where the whole process came grinding to a temporary halt for want of the most prosaic items on Earth: a pen and paper.

Posted by: Jason Toon at August 4, 2003 10:12 PM

Aloha Frank,
I'm enjoying these diary entries. I share the going ons with Judy over dinner but I don't think she has quite the same fascination. Each morning I'll be reading about the progress. I know it'll be great!
Take care,
john

Posted by: John at August 4, 2003 10:18 PM

oom poppa poppa oo mao mao...once it was SO simple--just throw two rammas, a lamma and a ding dong up there. (I think I know that band.) Done and out. ~mikey

Posted by: ~mikey at August 4, 2003 10:44 PM

"Poor Schlep." That phrase should be used more often!
It's great to hear Frank talk about this process and about the songs. You can really feel his excitement. It's pretty cool to observe and get instant feedback from an "artist" at work who is so passionate about what they're doing. As you can tell by the intricate descriptions, Frank has been doing this for a long time, but sounds like it's the first.

Posted by: jordan at August 5, 2003 02:20 AM

i agree. its always interesting to hear stories from/about working in the studio. particularly detailed ones like these. and of course the pictures are an added bonus.

i look forward to seeing you play in phoenix.

Posted by: thecoolkid at August 5, 2003 08:05 AM