The Producer as Composer: Shaping the Sounds of Popular Music

Introduction

Over the last fifty years, the philosophy and technique of music production have undergone a major transformation. As the activity of recording has widened in scope from a primarily technical matter to a conceptual and artistic one as well, it has assumed a central role in areas such as instrumental arrangement and the sculpting and placement of audio samples. The concept of a sound in the sense of stylistic choice, and the ability to capture and mold it, have grown in importance as recording technology has become increasingly complex. Contemporary conceptions of the role of the producer have been broadened through the example set by the work of a number of extraordinary figures such as Phil Spector, George Martin, and Brian Eno.

Each of these people expanded the purview of the modern producer by introducing radical new concepts such as the Wall of Sound (Spector), the confluence of classical, commercial, and experimental techniques (Martin), and the studio as a musical instrument in its own right (Eno). Factors such as technological development, the ascendancy of the recorded work over live performance, and audience tastes have also contributed to the development of the producer’s role in the studio.

In this book, I make the case for three central developments in production and claim that they are all driven by an underlying mechanism. One: recording has gone from being primarily a technical to an artistic matter. Two: recording’s metaphor has shifted from one of the illusion of reality (mimetic space) to the reality of illusion (a virtual world in which everything is possible). Three: the contemporary producer is an auteur. The underlying mechanism is technological development, encompassing both invention and dissemination due to economies of scale.

While many approaches to production are discussed, my interest ultimately lies in the producer as composer. There are many different kinds of producers working today; the development of production methodologies has been more additive than evolutionary. But as Evan Eisenberg has pointed out, it is the artist-producer, the musical creator whose impulse is to create records, who plays the central part in the development of phonography as an art (Eisenberg, 128). There is always a collaborative aspect to working in the studio, and the importance of studio musicians, recording engineers, and other contributors to production should always be acknowledged. Yet contemporary music such as hip-hop is conflating the role of the producer and that of the auteur, notably at the time of this writing in the form of the number one album on the pop charts, Outkast’s The Love Below/Speakerboxx, which was produced by the artists.

Originally, the aim of recordings was to create the illusion of a concert hall setting. The idea was to bring to the living room the sensation of being at a live performance—a metaphor of presence. This was true of all types of music, until rock and pop took a different turn, and became the principal area of creative expression for the producer. To understand why this is so, one might consider what some of the fundamental aspects of different genres of music are, and how these influence their recording aesthetics.

In classical music, faithful interpretation of the written score has long been central. Western notation predates recording by centuries; it developed into a very precise set of instructions for performance. From the point of view of recording, notation is an attempt to describe a piece in such detail as to make it completely repeatable. Jazz is based on a combination of written arrangements and improvisation in the form of personal, realtime interpretations of a canon of heads. Both jazz and classical music are played by highly trained performers, who have spent a lifetime perfecting their ability to read music and, in the case of jazz, to improvise in a certain way. Thus these forms of music are generally recorded live, without overdubs, and with minimal, if any, postperformance enhancement. The idea is to capture the live performance in the tradition of realistic recording, as it has existed since the 1870s.

Rock and the many subgenres it has spawned are a different story: timbre and rhythm are arguably the most important aspects of this music. Generally, nothing beyond a lyric sheet and possibly a few chord changes is written down; the recording of a song functions as its score, its definitive version. It is no accident that the rise of rock’n’roll happened almost at the same time as fundamental technological innovations such as tape editing and overdubbing. For rock and pop, the interest generally lies not in virtuosity or harmonic complexity, but in a mood, an atmosphere, an unusual combination of sounds; these are greatly enhanced by good production.

Although rock recording did begin as a largely mimetic enterprise, the matrix which underlies pop recording was reversed in the mid-sixties. There came into being a new conception of making records, developed separately and in stages, most notably by Phil Spector and George Martin. While different in many ways, both of their approaches to production involved replacing the quest for the ability to present the illusion of physical reality with a new aesthetic. The new sonic world they sought to create was the appearance of a reality which could not actually exist—a pseudoreality, created in synthetic space.

Spector’s Wall of Sound and Martin’s eclectic arrangements with the Beatles were clearly breaks with the aesthetic of realism which had been prevalent until that time. The amassing of huge numbers of instruments awash in cavernous ambience, the juxtaposition of tape loops with string quartets, the manipulation of figure and ground through placement in the mix were all manifestations of a new aesthetic. Their interest lay not in replicating the natural world, but rather in transforming it into something else: by embracing subjectivity, they made a potent argument for viewing the producer as auteur. In the context of the then very limited availability of professional-grade recording technology and techniques, they were in effect attaining a status akin to that of a film director. The mise-en-scène which had always been the domain of the record producer widened in scope, as did his artistic role.

The work of these pioneers left a lasting mark on the industry. In addition to traditional responsibilities as talent scout, organizer, and general overseer of the recording project, the active involvement of the modern producer often encompasses areas such as style, arrangement, and musical form, elements formerly associated exclusively with arrangers and composers. In many cases bandmembers may become actors in the producer’s movie for your ears, as Frank Zappa referred to the Mothers of Invention’s double album Uncle Meat in its liner notes. Producers who are also composers, such as Brian Eno, Bill Laswell, and Trent Reznor, generally put their imprint on every project they are associated with. Eno’s Oblique Strategies, usually involving some form of chance operation, Laswell’s stable of world music instrumentalists, Reznor’s trademark electronic distortions: all are omnipresent on the records they have made, be it under their own name or as producer of someone else’s project. Today there are numerous name-brand producers who function more as active agents than as catalysts.

This situation of the producer reaching into the actual stylistic direction and sound of the recorded artifact is the result of a number of factors which have combined to enhance his importance and status. First, there is the matter of expertise. Until very recently, the equipment necessary to produce professional-grade recordings was prohibitively expensive, and the knowledge required to obtain good results the province of a few highly specialized technicians. As the mediator between the two worlds of inspiration and know-how, the producer became a central figure. Second, there is the primacy of recordings over live performance. Today far more people listen to recorded music than to live musicians; hence the sound of the recording is what is most important, and contributes heavily to making or breaking an act. Third, there is the culture’s appetite for a constant parade of young faces and new styles (mostly of the visual variety), which stands in contrast to the practical need for someone with experience. The image of fashion models on the runway comes to mind, while the forty- or fifty-something designers oversee their crews backstage to ensure a successful presentation. The balance between the elements is more fluid in pop music, especially in recent times where the producer and the artist are often one; but there have been instances of the producer totally determining the sound of the act, as for example in the case of the English band Joy Division.

In a general sense, these developments have caused a shift in musical values toward production. As the cultural ear becomes more familiar with what is possible, it is able to distinguish between different levels and styles of production, and becomes more aware of the production aspect of a track.

Shaping the sound of a modern pop record usually involves a division of labor. There have probably been as many varieties of working arrangements as there have been producers: in the case of early Motown, there was one executive producer (Berry Gordy) who had final say on every aspect of a release, while a staff of engineers, producer-songwriters, and musicians came up with the product. In such situations, it is difficult to say exactly who does what. Indeed, there are many different conceptions of what a producer does. What is clear is that the producer who puts his name on the record takes responsibility for the overall production. As Albin Zak points out, while no two producers have quite the same combination of skills, each must have the ability to draw together diverse elements and to manage the dynamics of collaborative creativity among the members of the recording team (Zak, 173).

Often the producer will consult with the engineer in order to determine how best to achieve the desired sonic effect. Far more than his counterparts in other types of recording such as jazz or classical, the contemporary rock and pop producer is usually well versed in technical concepts such as the subtleties of ambience, compression, distortion, and effects such as phase-shifting, harmonizers, and so on. In addition, he must either have the requisite skills to achieve the sonic output he desires, or have a close working relationship with a highly skilled engineer—preferably both. In any event, the producer almost always acts as some sort of orchestrator, be it in the choice of electronic timbral and spatial effects described above, a more traditional instrumental enhancement such as a string arrangement, or both (e.g., as with George Martin).

The creative involvement of the producer in the shaping of a record’s sound also reflects how technology and artistic creation are increasingly interdependent in our culture. Just as the sound of the symphony orchestra which powered the works of the great symphonists reflects the mechanical technology of the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries, so modern pop recording has embraced the analog and digital technologies which characterize our cultural epoch. As recordings which utilize advanced technologies in new ways set trends and turn a profit, there is greater demand for new equipment, which in turn pushes the envelope of what is possible in the studio.

In the last ten years, some truly amazing technological developments have come to market, coupled with a major price drop in digital recording and signal-processing equipment. The equivalent of a recording console which cost $150,000 in 1995 can now be had for about $2,000, owing to cheap digital memory, miniaturization, and the increasingly globalized economy. This has made possible the emergence of the all-in-one figure, a sort of apotheosis of the producer as composer. Acts such as the Chemical Brothers, DJ Shadow, the Dust Brothers, Daft Punk, Squarepusher, and others have dispensed with the traditional separation between artist, engineer, and producer altogether, making themselves the embodiment of all three. There has been a return to the idea of pure electronic music as first implemented by Vladimir Ussachevsky, Pierre Schaefer, and others in the fifties, but now in popular music with certain stylistic conventions such as loops and breakbeats: a sort of cross between the image of the scientist in his labcoat at the mainframe with the DJ adding effects devices to his turntable rig.

The robotic, 16th-note-grid drum machines of the seventies influenced the gestures of early rap much as the new generation of producer-composers are influenced by the machines they use. Because their only product is electronic and their available sources potentially consist of the sum total of all recordings ever made, all sound sources become equal: on this level playing field, it doesn’t matter whether producers are the original creators of the sounds they work with or whether they slice and dice the recorded work of others. Thanks to the integration of digital control and digital audio in the computer, an unprecedented amount of sonic control is available to everyone—there exists today unparalleled creative opportunity for the individual of even moderate technical ability. The availability of inexpensive resources for sonic manipulation will continue to radically alter the sound of pop music in the future.

I have endeavored to outline the historical development of the role of the producer, and to show how the job description gradually became allencompassing, to the point where producers are now taking to the stage themselves and utilizing portable recording studios as an electronic orchestra.

Most of the music I discuss was created in the last thirty-five years. On one hand, this is good, because many people remember a lot about the music itself and the circumstances under which it was created. On the other hand, almost nothing has been written about pop music in the kind of detail which is available about classical music. There is therefore hardly any serious, detailed writing about what is actually heard in any given pop song. Yet this is precisely what’s so interesting about good pop: why does it sound the way it does? What went into its creation? In answering these questions, the role of the producer becomes clear; or at least, the musical issues facing artists, engineers, and producers are raised.

In this book, pop means the lighter side of popular music, such as Motown, Michael Jackson, and the Beach Boys. Rock denotes the harder sound associated with Hendrix, the Who, and the Rolling Stones.

I have used sources when available. Although most writing about pop is prone to anecdotes and short on musical detail, it is sometimes surprising what one can find in a biography of a famous producer or band. I’ve also relied on my twenty years of recording studio experience (I owned and operated a recording studio in New York City for thirteen years, and recorded as a drummer and composer in a few others) in order to interpret what one hears on the recordings talked about in this essay. In doubtful cases, I bent the ear of many a knowledgeable friend in order to arrive at what seemed a reasonable conclusion. In a couple of cases, I was present at the recording sessions themselves.

It is highly recommended to listen to the music I describe in order to follow the discussion. For the most part, the tracks are readily available in any good record store, or from an online music service.

1 From Mirror to Beacon

Beginnings

In the early days of recording, the record producer in the modern sense did not exist. Thomas Edison had invented the phonograph in 1877, and by 1887 Emile Berliner had devised the gramophone. Perhaps the closest thing to production in the 1890s is the image of Fred Gaisberg, who ran the first recording studio, holding an opera singer by the arm and moving her closer or further away from the gramophone’s horn according to the dynamics of the passage being sung (Gronow and Saunio, 8).

These were radically new machines, and the gramophone would have a huge impact on music as a whole; nevertheless, recording itself was initially a rather cut-and-dried affair. Because of the limited frequency range of recording devices and their relative lack of sensitivity and dynamic range, as well as the popularity of opera at the time, the first recordings were mostly of operatic arias. The strong voices of opera singers recorded relatively well, as attested to by the fact that Enrico Caruso’s recordings from the first two decades of the twentieth century have remained in print continually to this day.

At first, recordings had to be made practically by hand. There was no electricity involved; a bullhorn picked up sound, and the attached stylus etched grooves into a roll, or a disc. Since there was no way to duplicate records, early recording engineers would have to line up ten or so phonographs.

in front of a loud-voiced singer or a small brass band, and in this way ten recordings could be made of one performance. . . . When the Irish-American comedian, Dan Quinn, told Phonoscope in 1896 that he had made 15,000 recordings in the past month, he had, in fact, had to