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Classical Music Production 2

  Tobias

The idea that a classical music studio recording can somehow capture the character and essence of performance is as flawed as it is difficult to achieve.  It is in every sense a wholly different occasion with an entirely different set of requirements. Musicians prepare themselves to create one single performance in an evening. This differs greatly from the repeated renditions of a composition during rehearsal, partly because the sense of occasion focuses their attention and heightens their sensibilities, and partly because an audience nourishes their musical expressiveness; and for many more reasons besides. It is extremely difficult, if not impossible for them to re-create the same unique sense of occasion during a recording session: in a sterile environment, without an audience, and when they are invariably expected to repeat a work several times. They must instead uncover a new approach – a different way of realising the work whilst achieving similarly valid and engaging results. And it is the producer’s role to aid and direct them in this discovery. Quite how this accomplished varies from producer to producer; herein lays the difficulty.

I sometimes think that humankind is not geared for uniqueness. Instead of endlessly devising systems to manage every aspect of our lives we would do well to adopt one of the mantras of the US Marine Corps – “Improvise, adapt, and overcome.” Unfortunately, most producers are no better than the rest of us and seem unable to adopt an adaptive style of working. Their approach is instead, astonishingly formulaic. It usually goes something like this:

• Allow some minutes for the engineer to get a balance – (preferably to be accomplished without recourse to hearing the musician’s play).
• Ask the musicians to perform one complete movement.
• Invite musicians to listen to their first, usually tentative take.
• Allow them some time to make comments and discuss musical considerations and the sound balance.
• Making any necessary changes to the balance.
• Resume the session proper – ie. Disregard all that has been recorded thus far, and commence creation of glorious hotchpotch of microscopic excerpts from which the producer can mark-up his score; thereby minimising confusion, complexity and other unwanted difficulties.

A facetious parody – perhaps – but uncommonly close to the truth. Ask any professional musician. 
Such an approach is fatally flawed in a number of areas, not least because it fails to consider the uniqueness of each recording occasion. I could write a book on the subject, but to be brief….
The process of getting a balance ought not to be rushed. It’s an integral part of the musician’s adaptation to what is usually an unfamiliar acoustic.

Musical instruments do not operate in a vacuum or anechoic space, but within an acoustic:  the sound of one being intrinsic to the other. To a musician, a new acoustic requires an adaptation akin to changing one’s instrument. Again, don’t take my word for it – ask a pianist. They have frequent experience of both.
A recording session offers a unique opportunity to musicians to assess the effectiveness of their sound and balance, within an acoustic, from the listener’s perspective. This is an invaluable resource and potentially of huge benefit to the quality of recorded sound and to the musicians’ development. However, because it is notional and un-quantifiable (and because time is money), it is seldom afforded sufficient time or consideration.

The process that I’ve described is so ingrained among musicians that their first take is often referred to as a run through. Consequently, it is reasonable to suppose that they expend little musical energy on it. After all, they’re likely to be playing for the whole day – a tiring experience for even the most experienced musician. If then, the producer allows them to continue with the session without first having encouraged them to summon up their best attempt at a complete performance, he assumes an unjustifiably large proportion of the responsibility for the musical coherence of the final result. The musical shape of a work: its line, its expressive development, is best left in the hands of musicians, not devolved to the third-party antics of the producer and his editor.

From here on in, the usual turn of events is as follows: Musicians recommence their performance. After only a few bars, the producer notes some failing – invariably a slight un-togetherness, or something not quite perfectly in-tune, whereupon he interrupts the take and stops the musicians. After explaining the problem, a suitable point is decided upon from which to backtrack and continue. And so on and so on... This methodology is expedient for the producer who ends the sessions with a convenient musical sausage of takes that simply need stitching together, but disrupting a performance in such a way is both extremely destructive and shortsighted. In place of precipitous action, the producer ought really to be aware of the musical benefits that arise as a result of a mistake. The dogged determination provoked by an unforced error can be as useful and compelling to the musician as it is to a tennis player: why shouldn’t the music following on from a mistake be just as good – or even better – than that which precedes it? Besides, drawing a musician’s attention to errors, whether accidental or the result of anxiety about a particular phrase – is more likely to exacerbate than remedy the problem.

to be continued

By Guthry Trojan

Guthry Trojan is is a freelance classical and jazz recording engineer based in Paris, who has his own blog at http://guthrytrojan.blogspot.com/