As outlined previously, using the metaphor of the corporate management structure, there are many tasks for which the producer is responsible. Some are not creative and not what most people would consider enjoyable. The fun parts of record pro-duction fall under the CCO or chief creative offi cer role. Nonetheless, the produc-er’s objective is to realize the vision for the artist, manager, and label. This is true whether the vision is commercial (to go to number one on the Billboard Hot 100) or mission-driven (to capture the nuances of traditional music from a community in Venezuela, New Guinea, etc.). Some of what a producer does is audibly manifested in the fi nal product, and much is not. Regardless, everything a producer does affects the resultant recording and the impact it will have on the target audience.
Irrespective of cost or success, there is no audience or accolade for budget-ing, administration, booking of musicians and studios, completing union contracts, liaising with the label, preproduction, travel, setting up the studio, renting equip-ment, cataloguing metadata, backing up the recordings, ensuring there is suffi cient digital storage space, and so on. However, if these tasks are not completed properly and on time, the project becomes chaotic. These elements, and more, are part of the position description and have an effect on the fi nal sound people will hear. These responsibilities can be delegated, but the producer remains accountable for their completion.
People decide whether a record is satisfying or stimulating to them in some way. A track succeeds because enough people invest in it. The investment can be a radio program director assigning it one of his or her coveted rotation slots, or a consumer spending time listening to it and attaching his or her credibility to it by sharing it with friends. However, before any of this can happen, a label must commit marketing dollars for promotion through the media and distribution chan-nels. If a producer makes a record that meets enough market criteria, he or she increases the likelihood that the label will promote it or that the track will go viral on YouTube and so forth.
Producers hold sway over whether the song is memorable, attractive, or stimu-lating. They can infl uence the intuitiveness of the arrangement so it fl ows naturally,
is appealing on a fi rst listen, creates a desire to be heard again, and holds the listen-er’s interest through repeated plays. They control the quality of the performances and make sure the melody, lyrics, supporting harmonies, and rhythmic parts are well balanced. They shape the sonic qualities for clarity and punchiness, making sure that the highs are smooth and the lows are rich. Producers consider the end users and construct the track to survive its competition. Although the criteria are different, this is as true for a Smithsonian Folkways traditional world-music record-ing as it is for a Katy Perry srecord-ingle.
So how do you achieve all of this? A successful outcome begins long before the mix sessions. It includes the administrative work, without which the project will fall apart. Depending on the project, preproduction may be critical. But, before any of this can take place, early meetings with the label and the artist are important in matching personalities, expectations, and abilities.
THE FIRST MEETING
Ideally, these meetings should be in person, but they could be done on the phone, by e-mail, or Skype. They may be less critical for the auteur-type producer, because of the amount of control the auteur exercises over the musical result. Nonetheless, the artist is the central part of a project, and this meeting is a fi rsthand opportu-nity to assess the interpersonal chemistry and the artist’s commitment to both the production and the promotion. The producer’s objective should be to ferret out any mismatched expectations and take a reading of the personalities and dynam-ics involved. The assessment should encompass the A&R person, manager, and the artist, as well as infl uential friends and any entourage. The fi rst meeting is an opportunity to clarify everyone’s views on how the recording will be made. When I hear about and refl ect on productions that went wrong, it seems to me that more due diligence in the fi rst meeting might well have exposed some critical factors. The roots of a failed production can often be traced to problems such as taking on an ill-fi tting project, perhaps for the money (to fi ll a gap in the schedule), or ignoring early signs of personal, musical, creative, or philosophical incompatibilities. The fi rst meeting should occur before any commitment to produce and is an opportu-nity for the producer to vet the artist, label, and manager, and vice versa. This is no trivial matter because the producer, artist, manager, and A&R people generally think and speak about a project in different terms. The onus falls on the producer to translate the expectations of the creative and business partners into the tangibles that will comprise the record.
It is easy for misunderstandings to arise that can result in an unhappy ending.
I had one album fail early in my production career, and I was concerned that it would put a chill on it. The primary stakeholder for this album was the owner of the group. This person was not in the studio at all times but was present at various stages in several studios all over the world, including for the mix in London. After I delivered the mixes, the A&R person called me to say that “they” were not happy
with the result. I was blindsided because there had been enthusiasm and no indica-tion of a problem right through the mixing, which had only ended a couple of days before. In retrospect, I realized that the relationship of the most infl uential stake-holder to the project was signifi cantly different and more complex than usual. The label and the owner seemed unwilling to negotiate a solution and, several months later, they released a completely remade album that failed to chart. In any event, the very expensive and traumatic disconnect can be traced to my lack of understanding of the complex relationships and thus a protracted communications failure, both of which I subsequently made every effort to avoid. On refl ection, I should have declined this project.
Hugh Padgham introduced Sheryl Crow and her material to A&M, resulting in her long-running deal and ultimate success. However, the recording process was fraught with problems. Padgham co-produced Crow’s fi rst album (with her) and had a contractual commitment to do more, but she was unhappy with the results they were getting, saying that they were too slick. Despite attempts at remixing with her boyfriend of the time, Kevin Gilbert, and Jay Oliver who co-wrote and co-produced the original demos, she remade the album completely. The new pro-ducer was her friend Bill Bottrell, who introduced a set of writers they called the
“Tuesday Night Music Club,” the name they entitled the new album. As reported in Richard Buskin’s book, with reference to Padgham, she told the Chicago Tribune that “[w] e never had a common mindset on what kind of album it should be.”
This occurred at a peak time in Padgham’s career and turned out to be a $450,000 miscommunication. 1
In both cases, given the personalities and circumstances, it is possible that these problems were unavoidable, but all parties would have been happier if everyone’s intentions and needs had been better understood from the beginning, culminating in less distressing conclusions.
In addition to aligning expectations, the early meetings are opportunities to begin making the artist feel at ease and testing your comfort level with him or her.
No artist will perform well unless he or she is content and confi dent in themselves, as well as the production team. There needs to be mutual respect, and the artist should feel that the producer understands and believes in them.
ADMINISTRATION
Doing administrative work is less fun than watching paint dry for many producers.
Ideally, before doing anything, you will have a fully executed (signed by all parties) producer contract. It is common to begin projects before the contract is completed and signed, but if the deal goes awry before it is signed, you are at risk of not being paid for any work done. Your production contract needs to be carefully read (pref-erably by you, as well as your lawyer and manager) to make sure that it refl ects your understanding of what was agreed verbally and in the headings agreement (which it sometimes does not). Unless you are on an “all-in deal,” working on “spec,” or
have the artist signed to your production company/label, you cannot begin until you submit a budget.
If it is an all-in, spec, or own-label deal, a budget is the only way to ensure that you do not wind up working for nothing. As discussed earlier, if you are successful and a good delegator, someone else will most likely put the budget together for you.
Unless you have a person who knows your working habits very well, you will have to answer a multiple-choice quiz about studios, dates, times, hard drives, musicians, arrangers, and equipment rental packages. Peter Collins opts for a Q&A phone session with his management company, but it is easy enough to create a modifi able spreadsheet template that transfers from one project to the next. The budget needs to align with any contractual requirements, irrespective of what the A&R person says to you. If there is any variance from the contract terms, it must be approved in writing by the contractually authorized parties. Once you are on the project, you may have to sign studio invoices and rental bills, and complete, sign, and submit union forms and rights clearances. Once the budget is approved, it must be moni-tored throughout the production, comparing actual with projected expenditures.
Some producers handle this, some managers do, and others hire a production coor-dinator. Setting measurable milestones maintains confi dence that the money will last until the project is complete.
In the ’70s and ’80s, large budgets were common. Most budgets have shrunk considerably since the year 2000, and overage clauses still hold the producer responsible for any costs incurred above the agreed amount. 2 For a time, many producer deals were “cost-plus,” meaning that there was a recording budget and a separate producer advance, which was recoupable against the producer’s royalties.
Nonetheless, if producers ran over budget they were charged the additional costs when the contract contained an overage clause and the overrun was not authorized in writing. In a cost-plus deal, there are no bonuses for completing a project under budget. Overage clauses have a tendency to infl ate recording budgets because pro-ducers, not wanting to pay for part of the album, pad their budget projections.
“All-in” funds are now common, where all recording costs, including the pro-ducer’s advance or fee, are paid from a contractually agreed amount. These deals help contain costs for labels and are good for producers who are adept at con-trolling expenses. The producer spends down the fund and keeps the remainder at the end. Auteur producers, especially the ones who play most of the instruments, write the songs, and own their own studio, can often retain more of the budget for themselves because they tightly control all aspects of the production process. The more reliant you are on outside studios, engineers, programmers, musicians, singers, arrangers, etc., and/or the more say the artist has, the more risky all-in deals become for the producer. For instance, if an artist decides that he or she needs more record-ing days, rental equipment, or additional musicians not accounted for in the initial budget, these expenses will reduce or eliminate the producer’s margin. All-in deals can create tension between the producer and artist. Producers sometimes have to rein in spending to stay within budget. With an all-in fund, the artist may think that
the recording budget is being held back for the producer’s fi nancial gain. Producers are usually much wealthier than fi rst-time recording artists; this can exacerbate the perception of self-interest.
With the plethora of information available about 360 deals and the pros and cons of “free agency” versus being with a label, signed artists are realizing that most expenses will be deducted from any royalties generated. Some acts behave as though they will generate so much income that advances and costs will become insignifi -cant. In fact, a million units sold may not recoup costs. A three-minute video can easily exceed the recording costs for the album, and so might tour support. This knowledge does nothing to incentivize artists to save money during recording.
Sheryl Crow did not receive her fi rst royalty check until she sold three or four mil-lion units. 3 It can be fun to go wild with what seems like corporate money, but there are many ex-artists who would be having a much better time now if they had con-served more during the good times.
Once a budget is approved, the other administrative work begins. The planning and setup of the sessions can be thought of as part of preproduction, although the term is usually used to mean the creative development phase that precedes the recording sessions.
PREPRODUCTION
Preproduction is a preparatory, decision-making phase. It is when material is cho-sen, arranged, and refi ned. Performances may be rehearsed in this period. The purpose is to sort through options and make choices before they become diffi cult or expensive to make or change. Decision-making has been increasingly deferred since Les Paul began making sound-on-sound and then multitrack recordings. The sequencing and MIDI era introduced fl exibility right up to the moment when parts were dumped to tape for completion with live overdubs. Before affordable digital recorders, recording the live elements usually entailed a professional studio. The expense and diffi culty of making changes to parts recorded to linear tape made a preproduction phase fi nancially wise. Yogi Berra summed up the creative neces-sity for preproduction when he said, “If you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll end up somewhere else.” Without a preproduction phase, all fundamental creative decisions have to be made in the studio. Those kinds of choices, when working in commercial studios, can make maintaining a high-altitude perspective and staying within budget diffi cult.
There are exceptions to every rule, and for some records—particularly ones involving much improvisation (as in jazz)—the completely spontaneous capturing of creativity may be the best option. Nonetheless, within the exceptions, there is a range of opinions and approaches to recording improvised music. Some producers feel that preparation compromises the spontaneity, and others do not. Blues and jazz producer Bob Porter refl ected this dichotomy in his comment, “The difference between Blue Note and Prestige was two days’ rehearsal.” Blue Note paid for a
couple of day’s preparation while Prestige chose the immediacy of interaction on the session. 4
Preproduction can be quite brief in the case of improvised music, when record-ing a workrecord-ing group’s material, or if all parties have worked together extensively.
It can entail a few phone calls or e-mails to discuss material, personnel, choice of studio, schedule, and so forth. If there are studio musicians and written parts, the writing of the arrangements or discussions with an outside arranger may constitute preproduction.
On recordings that do not rely so heavily on spontaneity and live interaction between the musicians, key creative and administrative decisions are often made at the preproduction stage. Thorough preproduction makes cost and time projections more accurate and reduces project creep and disappointing results. When musicians perform together, having distinct preparation and capture (or preproduction and production) phases limits uncertainty on recording days.
Preproduction is not necessarily for locking down fi ne details, but rather for making sure that the band is familiar with the arrangements and the attitude or feel of the tracks. In the studio, the band should not have to worry whether the next transition is to another chorus or the bridge. The cut, paste, and edit functions can be used to solve exceptional problems rather than as a modus operandi.
Selection of material is part of the preproduction process. With artists who write, this means listening to their material, and it is often necessary to ask if they have more. Artists frequently hold back material, and the big hit can be the song they were not intending to record—maybe an unfi nished or older song. Artists often tire of their older songs and can be poor judges of their material. There can be rivalries within groups that lead to the exclusion of potential hit material from the selection process. The producer can better lobby for a song than a band member who wrote it. With a non-writing artist, unless you are writing for them, preproduc-tion entails soliciting material and listening through many demos or old albums.
With artists’ demos, it is necessary to take into account the conditions under which they were made. A lack of money and experience can make for poor choices.
A band with a strong rhythm section might use a drum machine on the demo because they could not record live drums in their apartment. Artists often record demos soon after writing the songs and a year later, with 200 live shows behind them, the arrangements and performances are tighter. When producing an artist who developed through playing live, I consider it imperative to see at least one performance if not several. In the case of the most poorly produced album I made as an artist, the producer never saw the band live, and there was no preproduction period. Consequently, the album lacks the vitality or interactivity the band had in that period.
Preproduction is when you decide how to make the record—whether it will be overdubbed, performed live, programmed, or a combination. On occasion, I have changed my intended methodology based on observations from early rehearsals.
Some producers only work one way, and the artist must conform. In any event,
some early decisions are diffi cult to reverse or change later. Recording basic tracks without a click track will affect the process and fi nal sound of the recording.
Beginning by laying computer parts or a click track allows for fl exibility in the recording process, but imparts a distinct quality to the fi nal track that may or may
Beginning by laying computer parts or a click track allows for fl exibility in the recording process, but imparts a distinct quality to the fi nal track that may or may