Mixing Music

This series, Perspectives on Music Production, collects detailed and experientially

informed considerations of record production from a multitude of perspectives, by
authors working in a wide array of academic, creative, and professional contexts.
Initially we solicit the perspectives of scholars of every disciplinary stripe, along-
side recordists and recording musicians themselves, to provide a fully comprehen-
sive analytic point of view on each component stage of record production. Each
volume in the initial multi-authored series thus focuses directly on a distinct aesthetic
“moment” in a record’s production, from pre-production through recording (audio
engineering), mixing and mastering through to marketing and promotions. Perspec-
tives on Music Production, as a series, will also be welcoming monographs from
authors in the field of music production. This first volume in the series, titled Mixing
Music, focuses directly on the mixing process.
This book:

● Includes references and citations to existing academic works; contributors draw

new conclusions from their personal research, interviews and experience.
● Models innovative methodological approaches to studying music production.
● Helps specify the term “record production”, especially as it is currently used
in the broader field of music production studies.

Download and Listen samples for chapters 6 and 9 are available on www.routledge.
com/9781138218734 and on http://hepworthhodgson.com.

Russ Hepworth-Sawyer has been involved in professional audio for over two
decades and, in the last, mastering through MOTTOsound.com. Throughout his
career, Russ has maintained a part-time higher education role teaching and
researching all things audio (www.hepworthhodgson.com). Russ is a current
member of the Audio Engineering Society and is a former board member of the
Music Producer’s Guild and helped form their Mastering Group. Russ currently
lectures part time for York St John University, has taught extensively in higher
education at institutions including Leeds College of Music, London College of
Music and Rose Bruford College and has contributed sessions at Barnsley Col-
lege. He has written for MusicTech magazine, Pro Sound News Europe and Sound
on Sound, as well as many titles for Focal Press/Routledge.

Jay Hodgson is Associate Professor Music at Western University, where he pri-

marily teaches courses on songwriting and project paradigm record production. He
is also one of two mastering engineers at MOTTOsound—a boutique audio ser-
vices house situated in England, and now Canada. In the last few years, Hodgson
has worked on records nominated for Juno Awards, which topped Beatport’s global
techno and house charts, and he has contributed music for films recognized by the
likes of Rolling Stone magazine and which screened at the United Nations General
Assembly. He was awarded a Governor General’s academic medal in 2006, primar-
ily in recognition of his research on audio recording; his second book, Understand-
ing Records (2010), was recently acquired by the Reading Room & Library of the
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Perspectives on Music Production Series
Series Editors
Russ Hepworth-Sawyer
Jay Hodgson
Mark Marrington

Titles in the Series

Mixing Music
Edited by Russ Hepworth-Sawyer and Jay Hodgson
Mixing Music

Edited by Russ Hepworth-Sawyer

and Jay Hodgson
First published 2017
by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017

and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

© 2017 Taylor & Francis

The right of the editors to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for
their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form
or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the publishers.

Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are
used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

A catalog record for this book has been requested

ISBN: 978-1-138-18204-2 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-138-21873-4 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-64660-2 (ebk)

Typeset in Times New Roman

by Apex CoVantage, LLC
This book is dedicated to those recently lost
who contributed so much:

George Martin
David Bowie
Prince
Zenon Schoepe
Contents

List of Figures ix
List of Tables xi
Series Introduction xii
About the Editors xiv
Notes on Contributors xv
Acknowledgmentsxx

Introduction 1
RUSS HEPWORTH-SAWYER AND JAY HODGSON

  1 Exploring Potential of the Mix: Historical Milestones and

Expanded Perspectives 8
MARTYN PHILLIPS

  2 How to Listen, What to Hear 24

WILLIAM MOYLAN

  3 Proxemic Interaction in Popular Music Recordings 53

RUTH DOCKWRAY

  4 Top-Down Mixing—A 12-Step Mixing Program 62

PHIL HARDING

  5 Mixing in the Box 77

JUSTIN PATERSON

  6 Audio Editing In/and Mixing 94

ALASTAIR SIMS WITH JAY HODGSON

vii
viii Contents

  7 Pre-Production in Mixing: Mixing in Pre-Production 114

DYLAN LAUZON

  8 Between the Speakers: Discussions on Mixing 122

DEAN NELSON

  9 Mixing for Markets  140

ALEX KROTZ WITH JAY HODGSON

10 Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music Production 153

ANDY DEVINE AND JAY HODGSON

11 Groove and the Grid: Mixing Contemporary Hip Hop 170

MATT SHELVOCK

12 The Mix Is. The Mix Is Not. 188

ROBERT WILSMORE AND CHRISTOPHER JOHNSON

13 Mixing Metaphors: Aesthetics, Mediation and the

Rhetoric of Sound Mixing 199
MARK MARRINGTON

14 Mix as Auditory Response 216

JAY HODGSON

15 An Intelligent Systems Approach to Mixing

Multitrack Audio 226
JOSHUA D. REISS

16 How Can Academic Practice Inform Mix-Craft? 245

GARY BROMHAM

17 The Dreaded Mix Sign-Off: Handing Over to Mastering 257

ROB TOULSON

18 Conclusion: Mixing as Part-History, Part-Present and

Part-Future270
RUSS HEPWORTH-SAWYER

Index279
Figures

2.1 Sound quality evaluation graph of a Moog synthesizer

sound from ‘Here Comes the Sun’ (Moylan, 2015) 31
2.2 Musical balance graph of the opening measures of
‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ (Moylan, 2015) 39
2.3 Stereo location graph of ‘A Day in the Life’ (Moylan, 2015) 41
2.4 Sound source frequency content against stereo imaging 42
2.5 Sound stage and imaging, with phantom images of
various sizes and at different distances (Moylan, 2015) 43
2.6 Surround sound stage of ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’
from LOVE45
2.7 Phantom images between pairs of speakers in
surround sound 46
2.8 Surround sound stage of ‘Eleanor Rigby’ from LOVE,
0:00–1:0948
3.1 Hall’s proxemic zones 54
4.1 Typical Maxim settings, inserted on the stereo Master
Fader in Pro Tools 73
4.2 Logic Pro: export ‘All Tracks as Audio Files’ menu
choice recommendation 74
4.3 Pro Tools Mix Template edit window 75
4.4 Pro Tools Mix Template mix window 75
5.1 Top: the older ES2 Synthesizer from Apple Logic Pro;
Bottom: the newer Clav plug-in. Both images are to
scale, revealing the difference in GUI style 82
5.2 A schematic of a mixMacro for one or a group of tracks,
illustrating some of the factors that define its ‘signature’ 88
6.1 Quantizing audio, 1 97
6.2 Quantizing audio, 2 98
6.3 Quantizing audio, 3 98
6.4 Quantizing audio, 4 98
6.5 Quantizing audio, 5 99
6.6 Quantizing audio, 6 99
6.7 Quantizing audio, 7 99
6.8 Quantizing audio, 8 100
6.9 Order of importance 102

ix
x Figures

15.1 The iterative approach to mixing multitrack audio 227

15.2 Block diagram of an intelligent audio effect. Features
are extracted by analysis of the audio signal. These
features are then processed based on a set of rules
intended to mimic the behavior of a trained engineer.
A set of controls are produced which are used to
modify the audio signal 228
15.3 Block diagram of an intelligent, cross-adaptive
mixing system. Extracted features from all channels
are sent to the same feature-processing block,
where controls are produced. The output channels
are summed to produce a mix that depends on the
relationships between all input channels 230
Tables

2.1 Levels of perspective and related levels of detail 26

2.2 Artistic elements as dimensions of the mix 26
2.3 Primary X-Y graphs for artistic elements at various levels
of perspective 32
2.4 Possible combinations of speakers for generating
phantom images in 5.1 surround sound; combinations
exclude potential inclusion of the subwoofer 47
3.1 Proxemic zones 57
15.1 Classification of intelligent audio production tools since
those described in Reiss (2011) 235

xi
Series Introduction

Perspectives on Music Production

This series, Perspectives on Music Production, collects detailed and

experientially informed considerations of record production from a
multitude of perspectives, by authors working in a wide array of aca-
demic, creative and professional contexts. We solicit the perspectives of
scholars of every disciplinary stripe, alongside recordists and recording
musicians themselves, to provide a fully comprehensive analytic point of
view on each component stage of music production. Initially, each multi-
authored volume in the series thus focuses directly on a distinct stage of
music production, from pre-production through recording (audio engi-
neering), mixing and mastering to marketing and promotions.
As a series, Perspectives on Music Production was designed to serve a
twofold purpose. Situated within the emerging field of music production
studies, Perspectives on Music Production aims to specify what exactly
scholars and recordists alike mean by the term ‘record production’. In
recent research, the term is often used in simply too nebulous a manner
to provide any substantive, concrete utility for researchers interested in
studying specific details of the production process. In fact, both tacit and
explicit definitions of ‘music production’ offered in recent research often
bear a certain tautological resonance: record production is everything
done to produce a recording of music, or so the argument usually seems
to run. But this overly inclusive approach to defining the object of study
simply doesn’t withstand sustained analytic scrutiny. The production pro-
cess is broad, to be sure, but it is rationalized into numerous component
procedures, each of which, while holistically related, nonetheless requires
its own specialized expertise(s). And this is true whether that expertise
is located in a team of people or in one single individual, as the ‘project’
paradigm would demand. Every record production, regardless of genre
and circumstance, requires at least the following procedures: pre-production
(conception vis-à-vis available technology), engineering (recording and/
or sequencing), mixing and mastering (even if only bouncing without
any further processing) and distribution of some sort (lest the recording
remains inaudible data). While record producers are indeed responsible
for overseeing a project through each of these component phases—and,
thus, while it may seem fair to simply refer to the totality of these phases as
‘record production’—every phase has its own unique aesthetic priorities

xii
Series Introduction xiii

and requirements, and each of these reacts back on, and (re)shapes, the
musical object being produced in turn. Ultimately, it is uncovering and
understanding the broader musical ramifications of these priorities and
biases that comprises this series’ primary analytic concern.
Perspectives on Music Production also looks to broaden methodolog-
ical approaches that currently prevail in music production studies. The
place of traditional academic and scholarly work on record production
remains clear in the field. However, the place of research and reflection
by professional recordists themselves remains less obvious. Though music
production studies tend to include professional perspectives far more con-
scientiously than other areas of musical study, their contributions nonethe-
less are often bracketed in quiet ways. Producers, engineers and recording
musicians are often invited to participate in scholarly discussions about
their work only through the medium of interviews, and those interviews
typically follow more ‘trade’ oriented than straightforwardly academic
lines of inquiry. We thus invite contributions from professional recordists
which elucidate their own creative practice, and in whichever ways they
deem most relevant to scholarly considerations of their work. Similarly, we
hope the series will encourage greater collaboration between professional
recordists and the researchers who study their work. As such, we invite
contributions that model novel and inclusive methodological approaches
to the study of record production, encompassing professional, creative,
interpretive and analytic interests.
It is our sincere hope that Perspectives on Music Production provides a
timely and useful intervention within the emerging field of music produc-
tion studies. We hope each volume in the series will spur growth in music
production studies at large, a more detailed and comprehensive scholarly
picture of each particular procedure in a record production, as well as a
general space for researchers to pause and reflect back on their and their
peers’ work in this exciting new area.
Jay Hodgson and Russ Hepworth-Sawyer
About the Editors

Russ Hepworth-Sawyer has been involved in professional audio for

over two decades. Throughout his career, Russ has maintained a part-time
higher education role teaching and researching all things audio (www.hep
worthhodgson.com). Russ is a former board member of the Music Produc-
er’s Guild and helped form their Mastering Group. Through MOTTOsound
(www.mottosound.com), Russ works freelance in the industry as a mas-
tering engineer, writer and consultant. Russ currently lectures part-time
for York St John University, has taught extensively in higher education
at institutions that include Leeds College of Music, London College of
Music and Rose Bruford College and has contributed sessions at Barnsley
College. He has written for MusicTech magazine, Pro Sound News Europe
and Sound on Sound, as well as many titles for Focal Press/Routledge.

Jay Hodgson is on the faculty at Western University, where he primarily

teaches courses on songwriting and project paradigm record production.
He is also one of two mastering engineers at MOTTOsound—a bou-
tique audio services house situated in England, and now Canada, whose
engineers’ credits include work on projects containing the likes of Rush,
Three Days Grace, The New Pornographers, Glen Campbell, Billy Ray
Cyrus, The Barenaked Ladies, and numerous other household names. In
the last few years, Hodgson has worked on records nominated for Juno
Awards, which topped Beatport’s global techno and house charts, and he
has scored films recognized by the likes of Rolling Stone magazine and
which screened at the United Nations General Assembly. He was awarded
a Governor General’s academic medal in 2006, primarily in recognition
of his research on audio recording; and his second book, Understanding
Records (2010), was recently acquired by the Reading Room of the Rock
and Roll Hall of Fame. He has other books published, and forthcoming,
from Oxford University Press, Bloomsbury, Wilfrid Laurier University
Press, Focal Press and Routledge.

xiv
Notes on Contributors

Chapter Authors

Gary Bromham is a songwriter, producer and mix engineer. He has worked

with numerous successful artists including Sheryl Crow, George Michael,
Graham Coxon of Blur and Editors. He was signed as an artist to EMI Records
in the mid-1990s as part of his band ‘The Big Blue’. More recently, he has
acted as a guest speaker for Apple and is a visiting lecturer at several univer-
sities in the UK and abroad. He is currently a PhD student at Queen Mary
University of London researching retro aesthetics in digital audio technology.

Andy Devine studied the creative applications of music technology and

composition at Bretton Hall and completed his master’s in music tech-
nology at the University of York. Devine now teaches music production
at both undergraduate and postgraduate levels at York St John University.
Along with academic pursuits, Andy has produced electronic music both
for pleasure as well as for client commissions and has been a DJ nation-
ally, presenting a bi-weekly radio show showcasing the best in electronic
music, new and old.

Ruth Dockwray is a senior lecturer in Popular Music and the program

leader for the BA Music and BA Popular Music Performance courses at
the University of Chester, UK, where she teaches historical, critical and
analytical studies of pop music. Her research areas include analysis of
video game soundtracks and musicology of popular music production.

Phil Harding joined the music industry at the Marquee Studios in 1973,
engineering for the likes of The Clash, Killing Joke, Toyah and Matt
Bianco by the late 1970s. In the 1980s, Phil mixed for Stock, Aitken &
Waterman tracks such as ‘You Spin Me Round’ by Dead or Alive followed
by records for Mel & Kim, Bananarama, Rick Astley, Depeche Mode,
Erasure, Pet Shop Boys and Kylie Minogue. In the 1990s, Phil set up his
own facility at The Strongroom with Ian Curnow. Further hits followed
with productions for East 17 (including ‘Stay Another Day’), Deuce, Boy-
zone, 911 and Let Loose. Recent projects include the book PWL from the
Factory Floor (2010, Cherry Red Books) and mixing Sir Cliff Richard’s
2011 album Soulicious. Harding has recently worked for Holly Johnson,
Tina Charles, Samantha Fox, Belinda Carlisle and Curiosity with his new

xv
xvi Notes on Contributors

production team PJS Productions. Phil is also Vice Chairman of JAMES

(Joint Audio Media Education Services) and is soon to complete his PhD
with Leeds Beckett University.

Christopher Johnson launched his career as a singer-songwriter tinker-

ing with a Tascam PortaOne to demo songs for his band. He turned more
decisively to production in order to stretch a publishing advance as far as
it could go by setting up a better tracking studio, thereby saving on future
recording costs. As a multi-instrumentalist producer, he is known in the
UK progressive rock scene for his studio and live work with Halo Blind,
Mostly Autumn and Fish. Chris is currently a lecturer of Music Production
at York St John University. His research focuses on the musician’s self-
view of their own authenticity.

Alex Krotz has been surrounded by music since a very young age and
has always had a talent and undeterred passion for creating music. He
has worked with a wide range of artists, including some of Canada’s
largest acts (Shawn Mendes, Three Days Grace, Drake), as well as many
up-and-coming bands. He currently is an engineer at Noble Street Studios.

Dylan Lauzon is a graduate of the University of Western Ontario’s Music

Administrative Studies Program and professionally is a musician and song-
writer based out of London, Ontario. His current project, Nikki’s Wives,
has been a feature act at the Leather and Laces 2016 Victoria’s Secret
Super Bowl Pre-Party in 2016 and is currently touring as direct support for
Grammy Award–winning artist CeeLo Green. In the last few years, Dylan
has written songs with producers such as Alastair Sims (Rush, Three Days
Grace) and Gavin Brown (Billy Talent, Metric), as well as having playing
featured on records by Die Mannequin and the New Pornographers.

Mark Marrington is an academic specializing in a number of areas,

including musicology of record production, popular music studies, elec-
tronic music history/practice and the creative uses of music technology.
He is currently a Senior Lecturer in Music Production at York St John Uni-
versity, UK, where his teaching is primarily focused on the musicology of
record production, critical theory and DAW-based composition.

William Moylan is professor and coordinator of Sound Recording Tech-

nology at the University of Massachusetts Lowell. He has been active in
music and recording technology communities for over thirty years, with
extensive experience and credits (including several Grammy nominations)
as a record producer, recording engineer, composer, author and educator.
Audio production professionals, scholars and audio programs worldwide
have used Moylan’s writing. His Understanding and Crafting the Mix: The
Art of Recording (Focal Press, 2015) informs much of this chapter. His
new book Recording Analysis: How the Record Shapes the Song (Rout-
ledge, 2017) builds on these foundations.

Dean Nelson is a producer and engineer mixer and professor of Music Pro-
duction & Pro Tools at Ontario Institute of Audio Recording Technology
Notes on Contributors xvii

(OIART). Nelson began assisting for producers Neal Avron, Mark Trom-
bino and Ethan Johns. He later moved on to Chalice Studios in Holly-
wood, then Ocean Way Studios. Nelson assisted Jack Joseph Puig for
over a decade, but began a five-year mentor relationship with Jack
that eventually grew from assistant to engineer. During his tenure with
Jack, Dean assisted/engineered projects for the Rolling Stones, Fergie’s
Grammy-nominated hit, ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry’, Mary J. Blige and U2. In
addition to his engineering duties, Dean also assisted Jack and Waves with
PuigChild and PuigTec. Dean was later offered a job as Beck’s engineer. In
this role, he recorded and/or mixed an array of projects including Stephen
Malkamus and the Jicks’s latest Mirror Traffic, Sonic Youth founder Thurston
Moore’s album Demolished Thoughts, ‘The Record Club’ projects, Charlotte
Gainsbourg’s IRM and Stage Whisper, Jamie Lidell’s Compass and the Beck/
Bat For Lashes Twilight collaboration Let’s Get Lost. Upon relocation to Lon-
don, Ontario, he produced and mixed several songs off Buck 65’s Neverlove.

Justin Paterson Associate Professor of Music Technology at London

College of Music | University of West London, where he leads the MA
Advanced Music Technology. He is also a music producer and author of
The Drum Programming Handbook. His research has an international pro-
file, and in 2015, he developed a new format of music release featuring
interactive playback together with Prof. Rob Toulson – a project that at
present has a patent pending based on intelligent audio crossfades. Current
research is around interactive 3-D audio for virtual reality (VR), collabo-
rating with record label Ninja Tune and VR company MelodyVR. Justin is
also co-chair of the Innovation in Music conference series.

Martyn Phillips graduated in Engineering Science from Oxford Univer-

sity in 1981. Martyn then went on to produce, engineer, program, write,
perform, mix and occasionally master audio recordings in a wide range of
genres. A pioneer of now-ubiquitous techniques such as retuning vocals,
time-stretch remixing and re-splicing drum-loops, he produced a number
of hits, including number 1 records from Erasure, Londonbeat, Jesus Jones
and Deva Premal. Lecturing in Music Technology at the London College
of Music, University of West London since 2009, he now plays and sings
in his band Mpath in Germany.

Joshua D. Reiss is a reader with Queen Mary University of London’s

Centre for Digital Music, where he leads the audio engineering research
team. He has investigated music retrieval systems, time-scaling and
pitch-shifting techniques, music transcription, loudspeaker design, auto-
matic mixing, sound synthesis and digital audio effects. His primary focus
of research, which ties together many of the above topics, is on intelligent
signal processing for professional sound engineering. Reiss has published
over 160 scientific papers. He was nominated for a best paper award by the
IEEE and received the 134th AES Convention’s Best Peer-Reviewed Paper
Award. He co-authored the textbook Audio Effects: Theory, Implementa-
tion and Application. He is a former governor of the Audio Engineering
Society and co-founder of the start-up company LandR, providing intelli-
gent tools for audio production.
xviii Notes on Contributors

Matt Shelvock is completing his PhD at ABD in Ontario, Canada. Shelvock

possesses diverse research and musical interests including teaching, session
work, producing, mixing and mastering. As a guitarist, he has had the plea-
sure of working with multi-national successes such as Skip Prokop (Light-
house, Janis Joplin, Mike Bloomfield/Al Kooper), Josh Leo (Emerson Drive,
LeAnn Rimes, Reba McEntire) and many others. Matt’s research interests
were inspired by time spent recording and gigging professionally, and his
work aims to explain how different various recordist methods—such as
tracking, mixing and mastering—constitute distinct musical competencies.

Alastair Sims is passionate about music and has devoted his life to helping
bands and artists recognize their dreams. Working with some of Canada’s
largest bands (Rush, Walk Off The Earth, Three Days Grace) in many of the
greatest studios (Noble Street, Revolution), he has been able to work along-
side and learn from some of the best engineers and producers. Continuing
his work with up-and-coming Canadian artists along with well-established
bands, Alastair is cementing himself as a strong presence in Canadian music.

Rob Toulson is Professor of Commercial Music at the University of West-

minster. Rob is also an active music producer, sound engineer, songwriter
and performer. His research focuses on the relationship between technol-
ogy and creativity in commercial music production and he has developed a
number of innovative software applications in this area. Rob is the inventor
of the iDrumTune iPhone app, which assists percussionists with tuning
their instruments and has been adopted by musicians all over the world.
In 2015, he led the AHRC-funded Transforming Digital Music project,
which developed immersive mobile applications for connecting artists
more intimately with their fans.

Robert Wilsmore graduated with a doctorate in composition from Notting-

ham University in 1994 and has since written on subjects such as prog rock
group Yes for the Routledge journal Parallax and on Kraftwerk for Contin-
uum Press as well as many other publications that explore collaboration and
philosophy in popular music. His current philosophical conceit that ‘we’re
all just writing one big song’ manifests itself through the concept of the
group The And and their singular work ‘The Song of a Thousand Songs’ as
well as through the ‘real’ group The And Ensemble, which he directs, com-
poses for and produces with Christopher Johnson at York St John University,
where Robert is Head of School for Performance and Media Production.

Chapter 10: Interviewee Biographies

Pierre Belliveau (Gone Deville) is a Producer/DJ based in Montreal. He

is currently working on a full-length album. Previous releases of note
include an appearance on Toolroom’s Ibiza 2014 poolside compilation and
releases for Mile End Records. Pierre’s production style has led him to
collaborate with (among others) Raekwon from Wu-Tang Clan, Hector
Couto, Martin Roth and NOTV.
Notes on Contributors xix

Craig Bratley’s debut album was released on Tsuba in 2014, following

a number of releases on labels such as Bird Scarer, Is It Balearic, Rob-
soul and Foto, all of which received critical acclaim. Craig also heads up
the Magic Feet record label. Alongside regular DJ sets across the UK and
Europe and at festivals such as Glastonbury, Festival Number 6, Electric
Elephant and Low Life, his plans for 2016 include releases and remixes on
Claremont 56, Throne of Blood and Magic Feet.

Rick Bull (Deepchild/Acharné/Concubine) is a Berlin-based Australian

artist who has earned himself a reputation as a groundbreaking producer
and DJ though a dynamic approach to House and Techno. Rick has per-
formed live at many of the most respected electronic music institutions,
such as Berghain and Tresor.

Ryan Chynces (Rion C) makes techno, basically!

Andy Cole (LuvJam) is a UK-based DJ/Producer/Label Boss and Graphic

Designer; 2014–15 saw Andy touring across Germany, Belgium, Sweden,
Norway, Hungary, Spain and Romania in addition to maintaining a residency
with We Love Space and performing at Bestival for the tenth year running.
Andy also runs the much-revered vinyl arts projects Blind Jacks Journey,
Crow Castle Cuts and Nip7. His new project The Legend of Gelert launched
in April 2015 and, as with his other projects, is developing a cult following.

Phil France (Cinematic Orchestra/Phil France) is a Manchester-based

musician/producer. Phil is the principal collaborator (alongside Jason
Swinscoe) in the Cinematic Orchestra, which entails co-writing, arranging
and producing on their albums such as Everyday, Man With The Movie
Camera, Ma Fleur and also the triple-award-winning soundtrack for The
Crimson Wing nature documentary. Phil has recently released his first solo
album, The Swimmer, to great acclaim.

Adam Marshall (Graze/New Kanada) was born and raised in Toronto and
is now based in Berlin. Adam has been active as a DJ/Producer and record
label boss for ten years.

Noah Pred is a Berlin-based Canadian DJ/Producer whose Thoughtless

imprint is now on its hundredth release. The past two years have seen Noah
perform extensively throughout North America and Europe alongside
recent releases on Cynosure, Highgrade and Trapez LTD. Noah has col-
laborated with a diverse collection of artists including Tom Clark, Pablo
Bolivar and Tim Xavier.

TJ Train (Room 303) signed his first release under the Room 303 brand
to the UK’s Love Not Money label in 2011. He has since gone on to sign
tracks to other esteemed labels including On the Prowl Records (New
York), Suruba Records (Spain) and Subtrak Records (Berlin). TJ has also
performed alongside Miguel Campbell, Damian Lazarus, Infinity Ink, No
Regular Play, Tone of Arc, Nitin and James Teej, to name a few.
Acknowledgments

The authors would like to thank, first and foremost, all those at Routledge
Press who shared our vision for this project and who were instrumental in
seeing this series to print.
We must, however, extend our thanks to those who have contributed
their research, their conclusions and of course their patience as we’ve
encouraged, edited, disheartened (perhaps) and edited again. The work in
this book, and the subsequent series already in full flow, is wide ranging.
We’d like to thank everyone who has contributed. We’d also like to thank
those who put in a call and were not selected for this book—perhaps we’ll
see you later in the series. Thank you for your support and shared vision
for the project.
Finally, we’d like to thank our families for their patience, too, as we
write and pull together another book.

Russ Hepworth-Sawyer and Jay Hodgson

www.hepworthhodgson.com

xx
Introduction
Russ Hepworth-Sawyer and Jay Hodgson

Welcome to Perspectives on Music Production:

Mixing Music

As you will have learned from our series introduction, this is the first in
a series of planned multi-authored books exploring academic interests in
music production from a range of perspectives. This approach enables
us, as a discipline, we believe, to study any topic from differing angles.
Whether that be an angle of perspective, such as the method of approach-
ing a mix, or the way in which you look at or listen to a mix, or to consider
the prism through which you analyze a mix, Perspectives on Music Pro-
duction is a broad church.
Much of our writing to date has been conceptualized and organized
within the adopted term of the production process. For example, From
Demo to Delivery: The Process of Production (edited by Hepworth-
Sawyer, 2010) involved multiple authors discussing phases of that exact
staged production process. From the outset of Perspectives on Music Pro-
duction, our proposal to Routledge, and the invitations to the contributors
here, we were clear what the titles of each of the books would be. True
to form, they are based upon broad segments of the production process.
The output, however, would dispel any such theory. We have welcomed
this. A researcher will take the book out of the library most applicable to
their current investigation. What transpires is a number of discussions that
mixing music cannot be pigeonholed into one specific stage of the music
production process. The mix is within the concept, the seed of the initial
composition, or idea. Reconceptualization can occur again later through
the production of a track, which could of course be equally applied before
going into the studio and after the recording in the mixing stage. Expect,
therefore, to read about recording, production, pre-production and even
mastering within this book, all in reference to the creation of a product.
The focus of Perspectives on Music Production: Mixing Music therefore is
the culmination, the moment if you like, of a discrete number of tracks or
sources coming together to make an exciting, cohesive whole.
Many might query why the first book in a series loosely based around
the production process should launch with Mixing Music. As we researched
and interviewed for our forthcoming book Audio Mastering: The Artists
(due out at a similar time to the release of this book), we noted how little
research had actually been carried out on the mix. We were equally alarmed

1
2 Russ Hepworth-Sawyer and Jay Hodgson

that outside of the popular music technology press, there was little ethno-
graphic, or experiential, discussion of the mix. Additionally, we felt that
the prism by which the mix is viewed should also be considered further.
Contributions have been submitted from both experienced academics
and early career researchers. Contributions have also been accepted from
professionals discussing their work. In addition, interviews have been
transcribed and are presented to you here for your own conclusions. You
will find some pieces based upon discussions and experiences, too. We
welcome these perspectives.
The relatively recent emergence of Music Production as an academic
topic has dawned at a time that coincides with open access journals, the
Internet and considerable change within the audio industry itself. These
have shaped both the academic activities we engage in, but also the indus-
try we write about today. Music Production, we believe, as a field of study
is therefore part history, part present and part future.
Zenon Schoepe, the late editor of Resolution magazine, wrote in one of
his last editorials in the March/April 2016 edition:

As an industry we are populated with personalities. Individuals who represent

a notion, an idea, a set of values, maybe even an era that we all know has gone
but curiously still hanker for . . . [When they are gone] what we are left with
is what they stand for . . . I think it is all the more alarming for us because it is
unlikely that we will ever see their kind again.

At that time, one presumes he was writing about the recent loss of Sir
George Martin, or perhaps David Bowie. He could not have known that
Prince was about to join the reference. However, those of us currently
studying the world of music production can empathize with Schoepe. We
dedicate ourselves to music production’s ‘part history’. Through the lens
of part history, we explore and dissect the historical developments and
undertakings in studios around the globe and judge, compare and root our
knowledge of the present.
As a form of study, our history is actually not that old. The industry
based upon the distribution of recorded audio has only clocked up around
100 years or so, yet there is still so much knowledge still to catalog, ana-
lyze and discuss.
We feel that much present work should be extracting or formalizing
historical or tacit knowledge held within current professionals. As an aca-
demic community we should continue to be noting this living history as
best we can, ensuring the skills, techniques and anecdotes are kept for
future researchers. We hope to capture and analyze as much as is possible
of what Schoepe referred to as ‘what they stand for’ in this and the forth-
coming books in the series.

Chapter Introductions
In the process of constructing this book, we received a number of abstracts
from potential contributors internationally. As we considered each contri-
bution upon its merit, we also considered the tone and flow of the whole
Introduction 3

book as an item. We wanted to launch the book with a historical account

of the mix. Martyn Phillips, in chapter 1, brilliantly discusses many of the
pivotal milestones that have enabled and expanded the mix to the quality
we persistently expect today. Later in the chapter, Phillips explores per-
spectives through which the mix is analyzed and understood. This is a
fantastic introduction to perspectives of mixing music and for what enters
later in the book. One can appreciate that he has considered the mix as the
artifact for some time and the ways in which is it appreciated, viewed and
consumed. Phillips’s considerable professional experience is drawn upon,
although not overtly pressed upon you, although is best demonstrated
by his section on mixing guidelines, something that is also touched upon
by Phil Harding later in this book. Phillips has introduced an analysis into
the process of the mix, and in doing so has introduced some office practice
theory we never thought we’d see within a music production book in the
form of Edward De Bono’s Six Thinking Hats. This is discussed from the
perspective of being productive and is also considered alongside Brian
Eno’s Oblique Strategies. This chapter explores the landscape of mixing
music from the prism of part-history, citing important landscapes, addi-
tionally analyzing part-present working practices, but concluding with
some consideration for the future of mixing practice.
To understand music mixing, it is important to understand what we hear.
Listening from either a consumer or professional standpoint needs to be
considered throughout the process of creating a mix. Many contributors in
this book discuss or refer to William Moylan’s work. In chapter 2, Moylan
joins us discussing ‘How to Listen, What to Hear’, where he expands upon
his renowned work on interpreting the mix. Moylan investigates the prob-
lems and technicalities for listeners to become attuned to listening to the
mix and how to hear it. He begins by reinvestigating his earlier work and
looking at the need to refine listening skills and the challenge to achieve
this. Moylan later analyzes the mix on separate levels, which he inciden-
tally calls ‘levels of perspective’, through which mix analysis should take
place. Through a number of figures and tables, Moylan explores the mix
and how we listen to it, exploring aspects that set a foundation for chap-
ters later in this book. Moylan discusses the terminology we all use to
describe the mix. This is a theme picked up and considered later in the
book, too. The sound stage is introduced within Moylan’s chapter and is
once again another theme explored later within the book when describing
the mix landscape with the more ethnographic contributions. The chapter
concludes with an apt observation on the mix and its interpretation.
Building upon Moylan’s area of investigation, Ruth Dockwray explores
sonic spacialization in ‘Proxemic Interaction in Popular Music Record-
ings’, chapter 3. Using a number of tracks for discussion, Dockwray
explores the use of space and intimacy in mixing, using tracks spanning
rock to pop over a number of decades. Focusing on vocal placement com-
pared with the musical backing and the sound space, Dockwray explores
the singer’s persona in relation to the environment, or ‘zones’.
There is of course the ‘part-present’. Later in the book, professionals
who have tacit knowledge discuss their craft, such as Phil Harding and Gary
Bromham, who are both working towards their PhDs after considerable
4 Russ Hepworth-Sawyer and Jay Hodgson

professional careers, and those professionals whose interviews have been

transcribed by contributors featured within this book.
Capturing the part-present first is Phil Harding in chapter 4, where he
provides an ethnographic insight into how he continues to professionally
employ the ‘Top-Down’ compared to his native ‘Bottom-Up’ mixing prin-
ciple. Citing his many chart hit mixes as examples, Harding demonstrates
the nuances and differences between the two methods. To achieve this he
has developed a twelve-step program he follows to achieve the necessary,
and expected, professional standards. Harding expresses that this method-
ology can be effective equally on the SSL G-Series console, upon which
many of his professional successes were mixed, or by using Pro Tools, as is
cited here within his chapter. What Harding leaves you with for the rest of
the book is an insight into how he approaches a mix, and the quality level
to which a ‘mix standard’ is judged.
Just as Harding explores a widely debated topic of ‘how to’ approach
mixing, Justin Paterson in chapter 5 introduces discussions that are a cause
of modern debate around mixing within the computer Digital Audio Work-
station environment, compared to the once-traditional ‘out of the box’
variation using a mixing console and outboard processing. Paterson also
begins our part-future perspective of mixing music. He elucidates to the
future, discussing possible working practices and structures in the future
beyond simply working ‘in the box’ or out of it.
Both chapters 4 and 5 are important at this juncture of the music pro-
duction evolution or journey. They notate the nuanced changes in mixing
methodology and practice over the past twenty-five years and inform the
part-future element of this book.
Chapters 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10 represent the opportunity for the researcher
to read either discussions or thought pieces with DJs, editors, engineers
and producers about their craft and the industry within which they reside.
Chapter 6 begins with an interview with Alastair Sims by Jay Hodgson
discussing primarily digital editing as a craft. Editing has not been a new
phenomenon in mixing, but has in the past two decades become more of
an expectation rather than a once-in-a-blue-moon desire to amend per-
formance errors. There is, of course, the argument that the historic tech-
nology prevented us editing in such a non-destructive way, and that had
it have been available, the editing ‘phenomenon’ would have been more
prevalent. Alastair Sims offers both comment and audio (via the book
webpage on www.hepworthhodgson.com) to discuss the art of editing in
modern music production. In addition, Sims describes the communication
and professional interplay with all those involved within the production
process.
Dylan Lauzon in chapter 7 discusses his view of pre-production within
mixing. His argument, well formed, explains that the concept or idea of the
song has a ‘mix’ attached to it as it is written, or developed. Many of these
characteristics will either remain as elements within the final mix or set the
blueprint for its completed style. Lauzon describes his methodology when
writing a song or, we believe, when writing a production. The best analysis
he comes to is that he’s ‘writing a mix’.
Introduction 5

As introduced earlier by Justin Paterson, significant moves have been

made within the industry from the analog recording studio (and console)
to the digital audio workstation. Dean Nelson’s discussion piece (chap-
ter 8), aptly titled ‘Between the Speakers’ begins by expresses his thoughts
on modern mixing and the facilities provided to us. He asks the question
whether our ‘most superior’ equipment has led us to create world standard
records. The chapter, however, grows into an ethnographic discussion of
the process of mixing per se. In considerable detail, Nelson explores ratio-
nale and his response to many aspects of mixing, including examples of
his experience working with the likes of Beck, Jamie Lidell and Bat For
Lashes, as well as many other artists.
Chapter 9 is an interview with Alex Krotz by Jay Hodgson. Krotz is staff
engineer at Noble Street Studios and has worked with the likes of Shawn
Mendes, Three Days Grace and Drake. In his interview, titled ‘Mixing
for Markets’, Krotz discusses the process of mixing from the perspective
of the deal, the communication and management of the project. He dis-
cusses what’s involved and how the mix concept is approached differently
depending on the occasion, or market (genre). In contrast to Phil Hard-
ing, Krotz describes his adoption of the bottom-up method for his mixing.
Ethnographically this interview is an important addition to Perspectives,
addressing the part-present working practices this series aims to dissemi-
nate. Krotz closes by expressing thoughts on the future of mixing.
Andrew Devine and Jay Hodgson host a mixing roundtable discussion
in chapter 10 that includes many prominent electronic music producers
and DJs. In this chapter, the interviewers are keen to extract key differ-
ences between mixing for dance music compared to the oft-covered pop
and rock balancing. Conclusions are drawn about the processes that work
and the equipment utilized. One conclusion is that mixing is not a distinct
stage of the production process in electronic dance music. As expected, it
concurs with Dylan Lauzon’s argument about pre-production and mixing.
Matt Shelvock explores mixing within hip hop in chapter 11. Through a
number of sources, Shelvock explores the differences and methods of mix-
ing music within the genre. As with the previous chapter, many references
support the fact that mixing is an integral part of the music making often
within hip hop. The discussion expands to encapsulate the creativity and
individualistic nature of the production and therefore mixes. This perspec-
tive is quite different from mainstream popular music, where it could be
argued there is a formulistic method to the production of music. Shelvock
explores some of the specific mix techniques employed to create this indi-
vidualism by citing many of hip hop’s core artists.
In chapter 12, Robert Wilsmore and Christopher Johnson discuss onto-
logical issues within the mix. They explore how different perspectives of
the mix reveal themselves as multiple authenticities. Wilsmore and John-
son explore the meaning of the mix, whether it is singular or a multiple
identity. ‘For function and as well as out of pretentiousness’ they have
employed the word ‘themix’ to express the singular multiple expression
of the mix. If this confuses you, it is worth exploring the full argument.
Through areas of philosophy and real live practice with their experimental
6 Russ Hepworth-Sawyer and Jay Hodgson

act ‘The And’, this chapter explores the map that is the mix, concluding
that ‘it’s only rock n roll but we like it’.
Mark Marrington continues the ontological theme in chapter 13 by eval-
uating concepts bestowed upon the art of mixing. Marrington focuses first
on the role of the mix engineer in relation to the production process and
the people within the process. He later addresses the work the mix engi-
neer is undertaking on the music in front of them. Marrington discusses
the importance of the mixer ‘speaking on behalf of the artist’ through the
medium of the mix. Marrington explores other aspects of this rhetorical
art, discussing the constraints mixers are placed within because of expec-
tation or genre.
Jay Hodgson completes the ontology section with chapter 14, titled
‘Mix as Auditory Response’. Hodgson explores the concept of the mix
becoming the one article comprising the multiple multitrack elements.
Joshua Reiss, building upon his work on intelligent systems in music,
has contributed chapter 15 covering the recent emergence of algorithmic
approaches to mixing multitrack content. Using his experience of research-
ing in this area, this contribution explores the current thinking and practice
in intelligent systems that could, in time, transform the workflow of the
mix engineer completely. Reiss explores the factors in achieving a form
of automated mixing, but is keen to express that the creativity in audio
production would not be lost. The intelligent system cannot, at this stage,
replace the artistic decisions. Whilst the end product (if there will ever be
an end) would perhaps remove the monotonous tasks for the sound engi-
neer, Reiss is keen to point out that it will allow musicians to concentrate
on the music more.
As a professional engineer, Gary Bromham considers how academic
practice can inform mixing in chapter 16. Bromham notes that, within
music production, there is a natural thought that the flow of information
about mixing should be from practitioner to academia. Throughout the
chapter, Bromham discusses the potential flow of knowledge and consid-
eration that could be diverted from academia to the professional. Through
a series of interviews and personal experience, Bromham moves to look at
areas of the mix and how the ‘flow’ could benefit both parties. The chapter
does not only elaborate upon the mix and the mixing, but also the mixer as
a ‘sonic trend’ with a ‘sonic signature’.
In the final contributed chapter 17, Rob Toulson considers the final
aspect of mixing—the handing of the audio to the mastering engineer.
Through a series of interviews with mastering and mixing engineers,
Toulson explores the factors, problems and issues that are faced in this
often-silent transaction between the mix and the mastering of an artifact.
The chapter also explores the more modern phenomenon of mixing and
mastering as ‘a single process’. Toulson argues that the possibility to ‘cut
corners’ and put off decision-making until later in the production process
may have led to the processes of mixing and mastering becoming more
‘porous’ over time.
This series is also partly about the future. As described above, Perspec-
tives on Music Production: Mixing Music contains a number of papers and
Introduction 7

interviews that discuss the route map for mixing as we develop technolo-
gies and skills. For example, Joshua Reiss expands on his work on intel-
ligent systems in mixing. Developments such as landr.com have, despite
robust industry concerns of quality, opened up the starting acceptance of
automation. Never before has an automated system been accepted by a
portion of the music production community. Of course we have presets
within, say, Logic Pro, which claim to process a bass drum, but due to the
fact that every bass drum and every studio is different (let alone the drum-
mer), the settings will all need tweaking to get close to what’s required.
Automated services such as landr.com offer, at the time of writing, very
little in the way of honing. It is, however, only a number of years before
substantial portions of our workflow will be automated in mixing, open-
ing up a whole new debate. The final contribution from Russ Hepworth-
Sawyer in chapter 18 explores the future perspectives in mixing music.
1

Exploring Potential of the Mix

Historical Milestones and Expanded
Perspectives
Martyn Phillips

Introduction

Working beyond the plentiful suggestions from experts, copying others

or trusting their art to happenstance, how can mix engineers find their
own unique way of deepening their own craft? Is it possible to find new
approaches? This article looks at conceptually what is possible in this
regard and suggests some practical ways of achieving this.

Historical Context

The level of possibility and complexity available to the mix engineer has
increased in steps since the role came into being. To appreciate the signifi-
cance of the increasing finesse that can be applied to the process of access-
ing and manipulating component parts of an audio piece, some historical
perspective is beneficial.
Originally, the mix was intimately connected with the performance,
both of these associated with the immediate, and transitory, fading with
the physical sound vibrations to reside only in the memory of the listener.
The mix was confined to the arrangement and guidance of the parts, a job
sometimes employed by a conductor.
This was changed in 1853, when an endurable artifact that repre-
sented audio was created, committed to a medium of soot on paper.
Parisian Édouard-Léon Scott de Martinville recorded an incomprehen-
sible squawk that is likely a human voice. It would be seven years later,
on April 9, 1860, before he was able to record something intelligible
on his apparatus which he now called a phonautograph, a recording of
someone, possibly himself (MacKinnon, 2012), singing ‘Au Claire de
la Lune’, amidst a sea of noise. Scott de Martinville never was able to
play back his recording or even appeared to contemplate the possibility,
and it would take 147 years before the development of a virtual stylus
by Carl Haber and his team at the Lawrence Berkeley National Labo-
ratory in Berkeley, California, would enable it to be heard for the first
time and open the door for an endurable mix, in this instance between

8
Exploring Potential of the Mix 9

the signal and noise, something that can be addressed with current tech-
nology (Rosen, 2008).
Edison’s sound recordings of a snippet of Handel’s Oratorio in 1877
enabled performances to be played back or, for the first time (Rosen,
2008), recalled for later examination. This necessarily would have brought
with it a new self-awareness, an aural mirror, which gave recording musi-
cians a new ability to refine their own performances. In addition, others
could now access and manipulate the recorded artifact with a degree of
autonomy from the performers.
Around 1920, a young German composer, Stefan Wolpe, created a
Dada provocation by simultaneously playing Beethoven’s fifth symphony
at different speeds on eight separate gramophone players. This was a con-
ceptual development as, for the first time, a piece that combined several
separate previously recorded elements was created. Wolpe possibly missed
the opportunity of exploring the mixing of entirely different recordings,
this being fulfilled three decades later in 1951 by John Cage’s piece for
twelve radios (Ross, 2013).
Cage was in step with the times as by then, the jazz guitarist, inventor
and legend Les Paul was laying the groundwork for combining separate
recordings of musically related parts. This was a significant paradigm shift
as, for the first time, it became practical to consciously, and sequentially,
combine the component parts of a piece.
Les Paul initially achieved this by the process of Sound on Sound
recording. As early as 1949, Paul was getting results by switching off the
erase head of a tape recorder to overlay parts on same piece of tape. An
alternate method involved recording a performance to an acetate (later
tape) and then playing along with it while recording to a second one. Paul
replaced this technique by using a modified Ampex 200 tape recorder with
a fourth head, enabling this process to be done using one, more portable
machine (Snyder, 2003). One mistake in the performance or extraneous
noise, however, and the process would need to be started from the begin-
ning; ‘How High The Moon’, recorded in 1951, had to be recorded three
times as the first two recordings were ruined by first a siren and then an
overflying airplane (Buskin, 2007).
Les Paul also explored moving beyond representations of live acoustic
performances, for instance, by recording his electric guitar at half speed so
that, on replay at the correct speed, it would be one octave higher. Record-
ing multiple vocal parts inspired both controversy and inspiration. Rich-
ard Buskin (2013) reports a conversation with Bruce Swedien, destined
later to become a highly acclaimed mix engineer, about How High the
Moon: “Up to that point the goal of music recording had been to capture
an unaltered acoustic event, . . . (it) left no room for imagination, but when
I heard ‘How High the Moon’, which did not have one natural sound in it,
I thought, ‘Damn, there’s hope!’ ”
Sel-Sync (or Selective Synchronous recording), also conceived by
Paul in 1953 (Petersen, 2005) and fabricated by Ross Snyder at Ampex
in 1955, opened up a realm of new possibilities, although initially not
10 Martyn Phillips

being considered important by Snyder (Petersen, 2005). While monitoring

previously recorded parts via the record head (henceforth known as the
sync head), additional recordings could be made it time with them. Earlier
recorded parts could be individually re-attempted or patched up with ref-
erence to what had been originally later recorded ones; with the Sound on
Sound technique, subsequent recordings would have been lost.
The development of Sel-Sync development had another crucial signifi-
cance: recordings could now be to be separately manipulated in a number
of ways, such as attenuating or equalizing. Parts could be re-contextualized
or even discarded.
The process of deferment of the final mix from the recording of the
parts starts with Les Paul and the forward planning of his Sound on Sound
recording. In Les Paul’s case, this might be the time it took his wife, Mary
Ford, to cook macaroni cheese for their dinner but can now span to decades
as has been the case with the Beatles’ ‘Fly Like a Bird’ (Roger, 1994). This
ability to be being able to examine the work at different times is not triv-
ial; perspectives change as the listening environment does, also with the
weather, the time, the cultural context. A mix then can make sense in many
different environments and at different times has the potential to resonate
with a greater number of listeners.
In more recent decades, the use of automation has enabled the engineer
to refine a process in a number of different ways, to go beyond relying
on manual control or the time constants of outboard processes to effect
dynamic changes over time and to apply a number of simultaneous chang-
ing processes to a single part.
Up until the advent of digital, there was a one-to-one correspondence
between all links in the audio chain: sound pressure, microphone capsule
displacement, electrical current, capacitor charge, tape magnetization and
speaker cone displacement could all be mapped to each other by some
bijective function. The introduction of digital techniques in audio, such as
random access, digital filters and other mathematical techniques, enabled
this correspondence to be broken. A raft of new processes of manipulation
could now be employed. For example, Melodyne Editor plug-in’s Direct
Note Access, created by Peter Neubäcker, is able to change individual notes
within polyphonic audio, something that would have been undreamed of
just a few years ago (Celemony, n.d.). iZotope’s RX5 software editor can
access individual harmonics or areas of the spectrum within complex audio
for processing (iZotope, 2016). Other processes that go beyond the tradi-
tional techniques of sound manipulation include Sound Radix’s Surfer EQ
plug-in (Sound Radix, 2015), which can track harmonics within a melodic
monophonic part, and Pi plug-in, which can access hitherto opaque phase
relationships between different parts to create a more phase-coherent mix
(Sound Radix, 2015).
Artificial intelligence is now increasingly being used, not only for com-
position, but also for audio manipulation and can be utilized in the span of
the recording process from reducing spill on drum kit microphones with
Accusonics’ Drumatom (Accusonics, n.d.) to the mastering of the final
stereo mix with LANDR (LANDR, n.d.).
Exploring Potential of the Mix 11

The scope of what is possible in the mix is practically unlimited. Given

sufficient artistic permission, any audio result can be produced. It has not
been unknown for re-mixers, the author included, to have work accepted
that has nothing of the original recording left, a metaphorical spade with a
new blade and a new handle. Whether it was his intention or not, the new
possibilities that Les Paul created for the mix engineer have developed
sufficiently so that the job is comparable to that of the performer.

The Platonic Mix

Where is all this increased sophistication leading to? Is there some perfect
solution that can be aspired to? Although this term is often used, is it actu-
ally possible to create a ‘perfect mix’?
Plato might have proposed that, like his eponymous solids, the ideals of
which only exist in the transcendent realm of Forms, there exists in there a
divine exemplar of the completed mixed work, a perfect piece of mixed music
that physical reality aspires to but can only approximate (Banash, 2006).
Music experienced in altered states of consciousness, dreams or through
near-death experiences (NDEs) suggests that there might indeed be some-
thing perfect that can be accessed. The latter music has been described as
“transcendental, unearthly harmonic beauty, angelic, sublimely beautiful,
exquisite harmonies, heavenly, a celestial choir of angels, a tone so sub-
limely perfect, joyous and beat-less melody, an orchestra of voices” (Wil-
liams, 2014). Pieces in such states can have the impression of appearing
complete, seemingly before any apparent human input has been done to
create it. The issue of where this music arises—in the mind of the listener
or pre-formed elsewhere and witnessed—opens up fundamental questions
on the nature of consciousness.

Incompleteness

Can these revelations of sublime music be authentically considered per-

fect? Is the concept of a perfect mix useful?
A possible solution to whether perfection is in fact possible comes from
the Austrian-born logician, mathematician and philosopher Kurt Friedrich
Gödel, whose two incompleteness theorems, which discuss the limitations
of mathematical systems, have implications beyond the purely theoretical.
Smith (2013: 3) reports that “Gödel’s first incompleteness theorem shows
that the entirely natural idea that we can give a complete theory of basic
arithmetic with a tidy set of axioms is wrong”. He goes on to summarize
the second theorem thus: “nice theories that include enough basic arithme-
tic, can’t prove their own consistency” (Smith, 2013: 6).
Recent research at University College London on the spectral gap (Cubitt
et al., 2015) has demonstrated that Gödel’s theorems do indeed have real-
world effects, that certain material properties are ‘undecidable’—they are
neither true nor false (Knight, 2015).
12 Martyn Phillips

Gödel’s proofs have also been extended beyond the realm of mathemat-
ics to the theory of mind, along with the support of Alan Turing’s ‘Turing
Machine’ thought experiment. One major corollary is that the human mind
can always find some aspect that cannot be contained within any ideal
(machine in this context) (Anon., n.d.).
Gödel’s first theorem is of particular interest, as it might be rephrased
as stating that a self-consistent axiomatic system cannot be completed.
A mixed piece of music might be considered such a self-consistent, or at
least self-referential, system as meaning is derived from within the context
of the combined elements. It might thus be postulated that there is, in fact,
no perfect mix, or indeed any piece of art, because as soon as it is pro-
duced, a new perception can be applied to it, which negates its perfection.

Artistic Exemplar

So why could it be that the music experienced in other states of conscious-

ness come across as so perfect if they are not actually so? Williams’s NDE
experience and following research (2014) leads him to comment,

In the spirit realm, gardens sing and colors can be heard. It is a realm where
light and sound, color and geometrical patterns are all combined into a totality
of harmonic perfection. This is music that is on a level that is beyond hearing.

These experiences are rich in synesthesia, the involuntary stimulation of

one sense by another and comparable links between the sensory experi-
ence and emotional responses. Perhaps these strong emotional links per-
suade the witness that what is being heard is on a more sublime level that
anything in the physical realm. Alternatively, could it be that the emotions
being experienced are more truly represented by the melodies, arrange-
ments and textures experienced in these rarefied states of consciousness
than by most of what can be created from everyday consciousness?
Wherever this music may be generated, some paragon of a completed
work, even if not perfect, with associated emotions, does appear to be
accessible, apparently instantaneously, to the human mind. By acknowl-
edging its existence, even if not readily available, the mix engineer can
view the process of mixing as a process of discovery as opposed to one
of creation. Without entering an altered state of consciousness or having
the refined discipline to mentally construct a complex audio artifact, how
might this objective be revealed?
Unlike the musician, who must distill what they can of their lifetime’s
worth of art into the moment’s performance, the mixer’s art does not need
to be similarly condensed. The same piece of work may be sequentially
revisited, thanks to Les Paul’s legacy, from a multitude of perspectives
and interrogated using different mindsets, intuitions or emotions, here col-
lectively termed as perceptions. It is not necessary to simultaneously be
aware of all the various aspects of the artifact, but each dynamic can be
sequentially addressed.
Exploring Potential of the Mix 13

Holding the idea of what the target artifact might be will generate
responses on mental, emotional or physical levels, and these can enable
appropriate decisions to be made that may get closer to it. The perspectives
chosen against which to assess the mix should be pertinent to the song, the
artist, the genre and the age. The more perceptions that can be considered,
the more refined the potential. Once dealt with, other previously addressed
perspectives should then be checked to see if they are being adversely
affected. There are not-insignificant dangers of dilution of what might be
considered the essence of the piece and a resultant homogenized product
that is a jack-of-all-trades and master of none.
It is tempting to view this as chipping away at the edifice of the work,
as if working the facets of a crystal, incrementally closing in and gradually
revealing the final product. What materializes, however, can end up sur-
prisingly different from that envisaged at the outset. Why should this be?

Illusion

It is a part of human self-image to believe that we are witnessing the world

as it happens. In 1870, the German physiologist Hermann von Helmholtz
made measurements of the speed of the signals in nerves demonstrating
that the observation will always lag the event (Zimmer, 2009). Further-
more, the awareness of our decisions lags the implementation of the effect
of them; we act and then have the thought to do so (Haggard and Eimer,
1999). Our interpretation of the world is also entirely conditioned and fil-
tered through our makeup and experiences so that we do not experience
reality in any real sense. Many religious perspectives observe this, for
instance in early meditations in A Course of Miracles such as “I have given
everything I see in this room . . . all the meaning that it has for me” and
“I do not understand anything I see in this room” (Schucman, 1996: 4–5).
The illusion of our senses includes musical or audio constructs. We can-
not truly experience what is really there in its pure form—what we expe-
rience is more than just colored by our individual makeup, experiences,
prejudices and tastes; it is entirely a mental fabrication, only a cartoon
representation of reality.

Imbalance

The human trait of exploring that which is off the path of harmony and
venturing into distortion and dissonance, may, at least in part, be attributed
to imbalance in the functions of the two brain hemispheres. Far from being
equal and opposite, there is a considerable variation in aptitude between
them, the dominant left hemisphere being less adaptable, which has been
demonstrated when it ceases to function properly and the right can take
over (Gynn and Wright, 2008: 4–8). The two hemispheres of the brain
can, in fact, operate independently from each other, as patients having
undergone corpus callosotomy, a surgical procedure for the treatment
14 Martyn Phillips

of epilepsy, have demonstrated (Yonekawa et al., 2011). The imbalance

between hemispheres creates a flow or conversation. Glynn and Wright
(2008: 11) suggest that music helps restore the symmetry and reduce the
internal chatter. Is the seeking of an appropriate sonic balance a reflection
to find meaning in the hemispheric imbalance, in the skewed relationship
with the harmony of natural processes?

Strange Attractor

The imagined pure form of the mix, the practically perfect mix, exhibits
characteristics of a strange attractor in chaos theory. This can be viewed as
a goal that, as has been shown, can never be reached, only orbited around.
These particular orbits are chaotic, unlike the neat classical models of the
planets orbiting the sun in fixed orbits. This was demonstrated in 1971 by
Edward Lorentz, who showed that with only a few (three) degrees of free-
dom, a never-repeating infinite number of such orbital paths around such
an attractor could be created (Gleick, 1988:139–140).
In considering the mix as such an orbit around the idealized, if not per-
fect, objective, the point at which it is deemed complete, the process of
orbiting the target is stopped, sampled in what is known as a Poincaré, or
return, map. This is the final mix, abandoned in its orbit rather than com-
pleted, the artistic moment crystallized.
Although sometimes close to the objective, sometimes the point of
return, the mix outcome, can be radically different to that initially envis-
aged. The choice of processing used or the inability to match it with the
desired intent may have created unforeseen consequences, but even minor
changes in the choices made in the initial conditions or during the process
can result in a significantly different outcome to that expected: this is like
the popular idea derived from chaos theory of the butterfly flapping its
wings causing a hurricane on the other side of the world. Professor David
Pérez-García, co-author of ‘Undecidability of the Spectral Gap’ (Cubitt
et al., 2015) comments, “the results show that adding even a single particle
to a lump of matter, however large, could in principle dramatically change
its properties” (Knight, 2015).

Limitations

There are, at any particular time, limitations placed on how deep or pro-
found a perception can be achieved in both the technology and the human
use of it.
Technical limitations are imposed by the quantization of audio data.
Although large, the number of possible solutions to an audio problem
using a digital format is finite. This may be familiar to engineers emerging
from working with analog and finding certain sonic subtleties absent in
digital. Advances, particularly with higher sample rates and bit depths,
have ensured that this obstacle is being steadily eroded.
Exploring Potential of the Mix 15

The limits of the current toolset is another limit to possibilities, although

each new process generates an exponential increase in possibility as meth-
ods multiply.
The improvement in deepening perceptions that can elevate what can
be communicated within a mix is perhaps being held back by the mix
engineer’s adhesion to old ways of working, not consciously engaging in
seeking out new possibilities and applying them. Although the ‘what’ and
‘how’ are often well accounted for, interviews with mix engineers often
reveal little of the reasons, the ‘whys’, that drive their decisions beyond
something along the lines of ‘because that gave the sound I was looking
for’. Can intentionally focusing on a greater range of perspectives not only
help illuminate the reasons for decisions but also enrich the final product,
producing more facets on the metaphorical crystal of the mix?

Mixing Guidelines

There have been a number of attempts to create clear perspectives to estab-

lish the basics of a balanced mix.
Sherman Keene (Keene, 1981) sets out eight aspects that warrant atten-
tion: three frequency bands that need separate attention; appropriate and
moderate effects; dimension—a sense of depth; motion—intelligent use
of panning; at least one true stereo track; and some acoustic information.
In addition to getting these basics right, how may potentiality be improved?

Six Thinking Hats

Edward de Bono suggests using six different ‘thinking hats’ as an aide to

better decision-making (Bono, 1990b).
The blue hat provides focus, defines the issue and sets out how to
approach it; how the other thinking modes will be organized.
The white hat can help in setting the context with its area of facts and
figures. What is the market for the mix? How much revenue can be made
from it? How much time is there? In addition, facts about the piece belong
here. What are the frequency ranges of the tracks? What is the song or
piece about?
The black hat is concerned with what is wrong. Advised by white-hat
thinking, it is dominant in the initial sorting of the piece. The tidying up,
editing, compiling and related tasks are the focus here. In addition, the
unweaving of tangled frequencies by reducing frequency masking and
separation in the stereo picture belong here. Comparisons with other
pieces, possibly in the genre, are also appropriate, as are previous success-
ful strategies.
The yellow hat is concerned with positive assessment, “a mixture of curi-
osity, pleasure, greed and a desire to ‘make things happen’ ” (Bono, 1990b:
110). The yellow hat provides the motivating force to get the job done. Alter-
native choices, processes or direction can be considered at this time.
16 Martyn Phillips

The red hat deals with emotional responses, such as ‘Hate it, get rid
of it!’ Although termed a hat, the choice of acceptance or rejection orig-
inates in the inductive grey matter of the gut, so reactions in that part of
the body should be noted. This hat is also about shifting emotions: for
instance, one man’s spill is another man’s ambience. Degrees of emo-
tions can be managed with the red hat where language is often inade-
quate in the task.
The green hat is worn for creative thinking. This is the realm of ‘lateral
thinking’, the creation of fresh possibilities, unexpected leaps of percep-
tion. This mode of thinking is also concerned with one of the most import-
ant ingredients in a mix: that of humor, as created by the quantum jump
from one viewpoint to another. Stylistic references can be thought of in
terms of this, as the listener is carried from one musical stream to another.
It could well be argued that green-hat thinking is a part of what differenti-
ates the engineer from the producer.
Time and budget pressures in the mix will often dictate that the problem-
solving, black-hat thinking dominates the mix process. Beyond this, black-
or red-hat thinking advises what balance needs to be addressed. This is
done with additional yellow-hat thinking. Green-hat thinking opens up
new considerations that can then be examined in the same way.

Chance

In aleatoric music, composition is to some degree determined by chance

events; the same concept can be applied to sonic choices within the mix.
Gibson (2005: xxvi) suggests randomizing all settings on processing
equipment to create a radically different solution which can provide unex-
pected insights.

Po

As a part of the aforementioned green-hat thinking, Edward de Bono cre-

ated the word ‘po’ to describe the process of random juxtaposition, select-
ing a word at random and considering its relationship to the subject in
question to throw up new perceptions (Bono, 1990a).

Eno's Oblique Strategies

The process of chance is also incorporated in the ‘Oblique Strategies’

record cards, originally created with Peter Schmidt and Brian Eno in
1975. These offer 115 different instructions of meditations designed to be
selected at random and applied, or at least considered in relation to, the
creative process. The set could be considered related to the Tarot, I-Ching
or Runes, where contemplation of a seemingly random selection of their
elements always appears curiously relevant to the subject in question.
Exploring Potential of the Mix 17

Although used extensively by David Bowie (Hendrikse, 2013) and oth-

ers, these suggestions are incomplete; indeed Eno intended others to make
their own card systems and not just use his. However useful, a finite set of
cards can only take the process so far. An analysis of the cards can help
extend these processes.

Choice of Polarity

It can be seen that many of the Oblique Strategy cards deal with finding
an appropriate level or instructing one of some parameter. This can also be
considered as dealing with the balance of a duality, opposite or polarity or
the appearance or state of a monistic aspect.
The Oblique Strategy card instructions that deal with polarities suggest
working with the following: center, accretion, level of structure, comple-
tion, personality, cleanliness, extravagance, cascades, courage, decora-
tion, self-indulgence, desire, time distortion, activity, ease, differences,
repetitions, flaws, ghost echoes, comfort, humanization, glee, gradations,
nobility, humility, credibility, intonation, absence, mechanization, idiosyn-
crasy, wholeness, uniqueness, change, heroism, ambiguities, consistency,
radio-friendliness, insignificance, novelty and note density. This collection
is perhaps an extension on Keene’s nine principles for balancing, but obvi-
ously not an exhaustive list of parameters that can be considered.
In fact, as de Bono suggests with using the word ‘po’, random words
selected for the dictionary can open up a galaxy of other parameters for
consideration that could be argued to offer comparable insights to Eno’s
suggestions. For example, in a test run of twenty random words selected
for this writing (eleven were discarded) the following words were picked:

1) Reluctance
2) Gratify
3) Extremist
4) Flock
5) Histrionic
6) Pusillanimous
7) Insomnia
8) Detraction
9) Distend

In the creative process, these could generate related instructions in the

spirit of the Oblique Strategy cards, such as:

1) “Postpone the hook and replace”

2) “Start with the hook”
3) “Boost at all frequencies”
4) “Triple track”
5) “Show off ”
18 Martyn Phillips

6) “The small quiet voice”

7) “Repeat and increment”
8) “Remove
9) “Over arrange, extend and mute”

In the mix process, the same random selection of words could be reframed
as polarities to be considered within it, for instance:

1) How much is being held back?

2) How much is being delivered / how satisfying is each section?
3) How balanced are the balances? (Should there be more shocks?)
4) Mix density
5) Histrionics
6) Small sounds
7) Boredom
8) How much has been removed?
9) How much overall information flow?

It is apparent that this process can be considerably further extended with

other random selections.

Micro / Macro Focus

Focus may be shifted in order to seek more appropriate balances.

Parts may be considered self-referentially using obvious parameters
such as level, dynamics, panorama, frequency and timbre. There should be
caution applied, as examination of individual elements separates the lis-
tener from the whole and it is impractical to guess how a part will interact
with others on its own. Plato appropriately commented, “The concentra-
tion of the mind on a single object, or on a single aspect of human nature,
overpowers the orderly perception of the whole” (Jowett, n.d.). Phase rela-
tionships with co-incident sounds will modify the part’s appearance in the
overall mix, and aspects of it may be masked by other sounds with similar
frequencies. Therefore, the relationships between parts, and between parts
and any effects introduced, are of greater importance than examination of
the components. The same parameters can be considered with particular
regard to phase relationships and frequency masking.
Furthermore, the assembled piece’s adhesion to the genre needs to be
considered. What will satisfy the target audience is of great importance.
The timelessness of the techniques and of the sound of the piece can be
examined here; how closely are musical archetypes represented or musical
memories recalled? Also, there should be awareness of the level of forward
thinking. Can the mix be sufficiently ahead of the fashion to appear cutting
edge and important without being so far ahead to appear unmusical?
Ultimately, the relationship that is the most important to consider is
that between the listener and the music. The mix engineer is practiced in
playing the role of the recipient; however, this can be examined in greater
Exploring Potential of the Mix 19

detail. How much attention should the mix ask of the listener? This will
vary between genres from meditation music to avant-garde. How familiar
should the mix feel? Too much or too little and it will not inspire a need to
purchase it (if that is a source of funding for the project). A sufficient dis-
tance from what chimes with the listener’s experience can inspire a need
to own the product, to include it in their life and inspire others to follow
suit. This is a way to create a hit and an income stream for those involved
in the production.

Calculus

In addition, calculus may provide further insight. By considering the first

derivative, rates of change are illuminated: for instance, how fast the piece is
developing or the relationship between transients and sustains. The second
derivative reveals acceleration, such as tempo changes, the intensification of
the lead into the final choruses or use of breakdowns. Integral calculus can
aid in the consideration of the accumulation of parts or spectral density.
Some analysis of groove can be achieved by considering calculus; how-
ever, considerably more needs to be addressed to optimize this. Discussion
thus far has been limited to reactions created through mind, emotions and
gut, but much music with a rhythmic component should address far more
of the human system and, ideally, all body parts should be satisfied. There
should be an awareness of, and even skill in, dance forms that might be
associated with the genre, otherwise the result will not function in that
form. If the dance forms are undefined, there should arguably still be some
appropriate movement inspired in the mixer.

What Is Possible?

Are these dualities exclusive; is it indeed possible to separate the differing

balances or do they affect each other? For instance, considerations of cri-
teria such as warmth, distortion, timbral balance and weight will likely not
be independent and the change in any parameter may have an impact on
the groove. Can the dualities be considered new dimensions or finer gra-
dations of the same ones or, in other words, how many degrees of freedom
are available? Considering that the audio is physically only represented by
number streams with as many degrees of freedom as there are channels at
any moment, it can easily be concluded that there are indeed more degrees
of freedom available; that is, it is possible for changes made in consid-
eration of one perspective to be made without compromise of another.
Potential limits imposed by the human auditory system would appear to
not have been reached.
The quest for a set of criteria that have the greatest independence from
each other will give us the greatest control. In geometric terms, orthogonal
parameters will offer this. By considering the aspects of a sound in terms of
width (X or the panorama), height (Y or frequency) and depth (Z or field),
20 Martyn Phillips

these orthogonal dimensions can be acquired. Changing the perspective

from one set of coordinates to another reveals a different set of variables,
for instance from Cartesian to polar. In this example, the distance from a
central listening position could be considered instead. The use of Mid/Side
processing can assist in this perception shift in the X-Y and the question of
where the listener’s ‘home’ position in the spectrum lies when considering
if this shift to polar can also be applied on the Z-axis.

Numerology

How can the process of balancing polarities be further extended in finding

the best solution in terms of the mix? Contemplation of other numbers and
their significance might help in developing deeper insights. An examina-
tion of the integers up to nine with the esoteric art of numerology opens up
further perceptions.
With the number one, opportunity, drive or inspiration can be thought
of. What is about to take form? What are the possibilities?
In addition to the previously discussed dualities, sharing or partnering
can be examined with the number two, such as with the classic dialogue
between the main electric guitar and lead vocal of rock music.
Consider the three-fold concept of subject–verb–object of an action.
What is the verb and how strong is it? How easily do ideas evolve from
one space to another? What are the goals? Gibson considers three levels of
dynamics of sound images: individual placement, patterns and movement
(Gibson, 2005:152). Practical consideration of this number in connection
with the work is that of the three desirable qualities, that of being cheap,
good and on time; it might be considered that only two of these can ever
be achieved for any particular project.
Four-fold processes can reveal the cyclical natures, such as those coded
in seasonal changes. Consider what is repeating, where there is growth
and decay. Also the ‘elements’ of form: earth, air, fire and water, or in
Shakespearean terms: the humors of blood, phlegm, choleric and melan-
choly might be examined here. For instance, the element of earth can be
concerned with foundations and stability.
With number five, the spirit, aether, quintessence (Greek) or akasa
(Sanskrit) can be added to the four physical elements. Where is the life in
the mix? Also, what gets added to a repetition? Gabriel Roth’s 5Rhythyms
is a dance-orientated process that can explore five-fold processes includ-
ing this concept (5Rhythms, n.d.). Five physical senses can be considered.
A six-fold process can be regarded as the balance of opposing processes,
as symbolized by the two upward- and downward-pointing triangles that
make up the Star of David. Both Eno and de Bono offer paths to insight by
reversing the normal flow of the work. Harmony and communication can
be considered here.
Contemplation of the number seven reveals the full sequence that com-
pletes an octave jump an addition of one octave or a doubling of frequency.
This number invites consideration of how musical notes are spread.
Exploring Potential of the Mix 21

Number eight can attend to contradictions, consequences and also rela-

tionships in time, such as what is changing or unchanging, movement.
Number nine offers an insight into what is catalytic in a process, what
arrives and transforms one form into another, such as a bridge section to a
chorus. What is concluded, reaches a completion?
Paul Carr (2012) suggests prioritizing the following ten ‘elements’
of music: melody, harmony, lyrics, form, texture, tempo, meter, timbre,
dynamics and mix. As an example, he points out that for Bob Dylan, the
lyrical content could figure higher than the mix, implying that the latter
should be less obtrusive.
Gibson (2005) identifies eleven components of a great recording: con-
cept, melody, rhythm, harmony, lyrics, density, instrumentation, song
structure, performance, equipment quality and the mix, and suggests cre-
ating a hierarchy for them for a particular piece.
The Major Arcana of the Tarot, which is developed from numerology,
goes further with describing processes or situations up to twenty-one. The
Minor Arcana is perhaps a less useful tool, though not to be ignored.

Conclusion

Inviting in new perceptions on how to assess the mix increases the level
of sophistication available to the mix engineer to refine performances. The
mixer can then more accurately account for imbalances in the human con-
dition and, by more accurately resonating with them, connect with the lis-
tener sufficiently to inspire them to make an investment into the product.
This new power calls for those with the purse strings to allow for new
approaches to the mix, such as those suggested here, to be more fully
explored and not to be satisfied with just the antecedent working meth-
ods. The investment in this part of the production process should result
in a return as the audience engages more fully with the product. Holistic
awareness from mix engineers is also called for so that they may be able to
effectively engage in considering new methods.

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2

How to Listen, What to Hear

William Moylan

Introduction

Perhaps nothing could be more important to Mixing Music than listening

and hearing. To accurately hear the dimensions of the mix and the many
unique sonic qualities of recordings we need to develop refined listening
skills.
Learning to listen does present significant challenges, though. Listening
is a highly personalized activity—internally processed in isolation, indi-
vidualized by experience and physiology, shaped by perception and cogni-
tion. Add in the absence of a vocabulary for sound and being confronted
with the learning of unimaginable experiences, the challenge grows.
Still, listening for mixing is a process that has been learned by others
and that we can learn. The listening process can be developed with knowl-
edge, awareness, intention and diligence. The listening process is one of
active awareness and concentration; one of being open to possibilities of
the unknown at any moment; searching with intention for new information
or holding sounds in the focus of attention. Identifying the purpose for
listening guides the process and informs the activity.
Successful listening brings accurate hearing. In successful listening, the
elements of sound, levels of perspective and functions of the materials are
recognized. Nearly all of these qualities are unique to audio recordings and
the mix; they do not exist in the same way in nature or do not exist at all in
natural acoustics. Thus, we must learn what these qualities are (or what might
be present in the mix) in order for these qualities to be experienced. We will
explore these qualities in detail and learn what they contribute to the mix. This
all allows for successful hearing and will bring an understanding of the mix,
in all its subtleties and complexities, dimensions and sonic qualities.

Learning What to Listen For . . .

As beginners, our first mixes invariably fall short sonically in a great many
ways. We persevere and redo them, or create others, and those next novice
attempts also typically fail, often miserably. Sometimes we recognize the

24
How to Listen, What to Hear 25

shortcomings in frustration; sometimes we are simply overwhelmed and

confused. Each time we listen it sounds different, but definitely not better—
and we can’t determine what about the sound is ‘wrong’. We don’t know
what to hear, or how to listen to begin to hear. We just know the mix is not
sounding right; is not working for the music. There is so much to hear in
mixing music; so much to keep in mind, so many dimensions of sound to
shape—most of which is beyond our prior experience.
In our first experiences listening to mixes, both our own or those of
others, we instinctively use our prior listening methods. Our attention is
drawn within the music, or to the performance, or to following the story
of the text—but rarely toward hearing the mix. The mix itself shapes the
music and performance in a great many ways, but its sounds are largely
unheard by the vast majority of music listeners. It is understandable—
beginners have not experienced the subtleties of the mix within the sounds
of records, but that must change. To mix music, we must learn to hear the
mix’s dimensions and sound qualities; we must learn what they are, and we
must experience them.
To understand mixes, and to craft our own mixes, our listening process
engages sound in many different ways—some of which are counterintui-
tive and some contradict prior listening experiences. In a sense, we need to
re-learn how to listen in order to hear all of these dimensions of the mix.
Our listening process is most naturally drawn to delineating the mix by
the vocals and musical instruments. So we can productively begin prepara-
tions for the listening process by recognizing all of the sound sources that
are within the recording, that are within the mix. In the listening process
that ensues, we will seek to hear:

● How the sound sources relate to one another,

● How the sound sources relate to the whole, and
● The many qualities of each individual sound source.

These three concepts are critical to remember to understand the nature of

the music mix. These relate to levels of perspective, or the level of detail at
which one is listening. All instruments or voices fit into the mix at various
levels of perspective, and function differently within different levels (see
Table 2.1; Moylan, 2017).
All instruments or voices also fit into each of the different dimensions
of the mix. These dimensions of sound are represented as artistic elements
and provide the mix with great richness. Some of these dimensions are
extensions of the traditional musical materials of pitch, dynamics and
rhythm, while the elements of sound qualities and spatial properties often
bring sound relationships and concepts not found in nature. A summary of
artistic elements appears in Table 2.2. These are important dimensions that
we will come to recognize and learn to hear, through learning to listen in
new ways (Moylan, 1992).
As we experience these elements, our perception and understanding
awakens. As we learn to navigate listening at various levels of perspec-
tive, we become aware of the richness of the mix and of how sounds and
26 William Moylan

Table 2.1  Levels of perspective and related levels of detail

Level of Perspective Level of Detail

Highest Level, Large Dimension Overall, primary shape

Overall texture Overall character and characteristics
Big picture, overview
Experience of all individual sounds coalescing
into one blended sound
Upper Level, Middle Dimension Relationship of all sound sources as being equal
Composite texture of the activities Detachment from individual sound sources
of all individual sound sources Level where prominence and balance
relationships can be accurately judged
Middle Level, Middle Dimension Overall characteristics of individual
Individual sound sources in the mix instruments or voices and their musical
materials
Typical perception, surface-level detail of life
experiences
Relationship of self to the world, and to others
Perceived relationship of sound source to
the rest of the mix inaccurately places
prominence on the source
Lowest Levels, Small Dimension Detail below surface level of sound sources
Characteristics of individual sounds and musical materials
Small-scale activities of elements Detail is heightened, exaggerated
Focus on the characteristics of sounds
Microscopic details

Table 2.2  Artistic elements as dimensions of the mix

Artistic Elements

(Unique to or More Prominently Shaped in Music Recordings)

Pitch Levels and Relationships—register, range, pitch areas, pitch density, timbral balance
Dynamic Levels and Relationships—reference dynamic level, program dynamic contour,
musical balance, dynamic contour/shape of musical ideas, dynamic contour of
individual sounds
Rhythmic Patterns and Rates of Activities—tempo, rhythms, patterns of durations in all
elements
Sound Sources and Sound Quality—timbral balance, pitch density, arranging,
performance intensity, performance techniques; sound qualities and timbre of sound
sources, component parts of timbre/sound quality
Spatial Properties—stereo location, surround location, phantom images, moving sources,
distance location, sound-stage dimensions, imaging, environmental characteristics,
perceived performance environment, space within space

elements work on various levels. We begin to understand how to balance

and delineate sounds, not only by loudness but also by shaping all of the
elements; we learn about prominence and significance, intense focus and
open listening (Moylan, 2015).
How to Listen, What to Hear 27

From this brief examination of what we are trying to hear, let’s move
forward to explore how to listen.

How to Listen

The following sections are for learning to listen. Building our listening
skills will lead us towards hearing—perceiving and recognizing—the ele-
ments that create dimension in the mix. With diligence, we will learn to
listen deeply. In thoughtfully learning to listen, we can learn much about
ourselves, and our unique relationships to sound.

Listening Is Personal . . .

Listening is a highly personalized activity. Many aspects of the listening

process are unique to each individual. With a cursory glance at another,
one identifies the individual’s unique physique, experiences, knowledge,
cognition, perception and more.
The unique physical qualities of individuals shape sound and its percep-
tion. Beginning with the dimensions and shape of the head, shoulders and
pinnae, sound is modified by the body of the listener in subtle ways that are
different from all other people. The sound qualities reaching the hearing
mechanism in one individual are not precisely the same as those reaching
others. These differences proceed in becoming greater as we factor in dif-
ferences between the two ears and other physical attributes of our hearing
mechanisms (B. Moore, 2012; Deutsch, 2013).
In addition, we all come to listening with our own set of experiences.
We each have prior listening experiences that uniquely shape our ability to
engage sound and musical materials. We each have our own set of experi-
ences, brought by the great many but uniquely defined events and activities
in our lives (Clifton, 1983; Thompson, 2015). Our listening skill levels
improve with more experience and increasing exposure, especially once
the process has been informed, guided and directed with the knowledge of
what might be present to be ‘heard’ (Polanyi, 1962).
These experiences also shape how we process sound and perceive
sound. We each have our own relationships with sound, our own ways
of making sense of sound (beyond language) and of understanding or
identifying the qualities of sound. We all gauge pitch in our own way,
we all tend to recognize some pitch levels more deeply than others
whether or not we have pitch recognition (Levitin, 2006; Roederer,
2008; Thompson, 2015). We can all calculate time relationships accu-
rately by using our individual memories of the tempo of songs we have
found meaningful (Butler 1992; Snyder, 2000). We all can recognize
thousands of timbres, many unique to our personal lives (Schaeffer,
1966; Moylan, 2015). Further, we react physiologically to sound in
ways common to all and in ways that are subtly unique to each of us
(Levitin, 2006; Thompson, 2015).
28 William Moylan

We can learn to access our unique ways of perceiving and understand-

ing sound. Through this, we can establish a listening practice that is both
effective and relevant.

Learning to Listen . . . Is Uniquely Complicated

Learning requires a willingness to fail and is often uncomfortable. Learn-

ing requires admitting to not knowing what is to be learned and being
receptive to something new. Adding to this, learning to listen requires a
commitment to trust that what is not known is actually present—that this
sound quality that has never been perceived, never been experienced, actu-
ally exists.
If you have never experienced a certain sonic dimension, how do you
know what to listen for? How might you come to hear it? Where do you
take your attention to recognize a sonic dimension that is beyond your
imagination?
We all know it is entirely possible to listen to a recording and not hear
certain sound qualities that are very pronounced to a skilled listener. Some
faith that something is present that has yet to be experienced needs to be
present for learning to begin. Leaning in to the unknown needs to be cul-
tivated, as well as allowing oneself to fail safely and constructively (this is
especially important in beginning work).
This whole process of developing a new skill is particularly difficult for
learning listening. We are challenged to discover aspects of sound that defy
previous experience, to use a new and specific type of attention while seek-
ing dimensions only known by descriptions. And our language on sound
challenges us further. How can we describe the aspects of sound we are
learning to hear? To do so with clarity and precision is not a simple task.
We do not have a vocabulary for describing sound and its specific
dimensions. It is simply not part of our language. Instead, our custom is
to describe sound by using analogy and by using the terminology of the
other senses. We resort to words such as ‘warm’, ‘dark’, ‘smooth’, ‘mel-
low’, ‘edgy’, ‘bright’, ‘crisp’ and a great many others—imprecise at best,
and typically grossly inadequate and ineffective; often misleading, and
commonly merely meaningless jargon. If one has never heard a sound or
sound quality, it is nearly impossible to accurately imagine it by having it
described with such a vocabulary. Still, we try, and certain terms become
widely used, though they mean different things to different people—
though they provide the illusion that the user has some inside knowledge.
As one example (of many), the term ‘punchy’ is currently used in many
contexts in a variety of styles of music and recordings. The term might
communicate a general sense of energy and intensity, but tells of nothing
about sound. Still, most budding recordists would be quick to say they
know what a ‘punchy sound’ is—though each would define it differently,
given the means and skills to accurately describe their idea of the qualities
of a ‘punchy’ sound. They have experienced recordings that others have
described as ‘punchy’ so they believe they know what ‘punchy’ is—though
How to Listen, What to Hear 29

the person who used that term in the first place may not have a clear idea
of why they used the term.
Objective and more functional communication about sound is possi-
ble, however. It does take some knowledge of the physical dimensions
of sound and some focused practice and skill in identifying the charac-
teristics of the dimensions. Meaningful communication is possible, but
it takes attention to develop and some discipline not to resort to old pat-
terns (Moylan, 1992).
The states and activities of the physical dimensions of sound can be
described, as they travel through the duration of the sound. A dynamic enve-
lope can be described by its contour and levels against time; spectral content
can be addressed in specific terms of what partials are present when, and
the contours and levels of their individual amplitudes. All other aspects of
sounds can be addressed with equal precision and detail by describing their
unique dimensions and activities against time (Moylan, 2015).
This brings us to recognize: meaningful communication about sound—
with sufficient accuracy and depth to be of use in learning to listen, in
understanding recordings, and in audio production work—requires con-
siderable skill and knowledge. Thus, talking about sound in a meaningful
way can only be accomplished if one is sufficiently prepared (Schaeffer,
1966).

Aids for Learning to Listen

Certain background studies will prove invaluable for recognizing what is

heard. This provides resources to draw upon to understand the concepts,
bringing greater ease toward ultimately being able to experience the sound
qualities of recordings. For learning the process of listening, with the goal
to hear the unique qualities of audio, one will be well served with some
background in

● Acoustics
● Psychoacoustics
● Dimensions of sound in audio recordings
● Music studies

A background in the first three establishes a framework to talk objectively

about the physical characteristics of sound, taking into account how the
sounds are transformed within our perception. Sounds can be conceptual-
ized by what is physically present in the sound, as one perceives it. This is
an experience all listeners will have in common, for most aspects of sound.
Though we will likely not be very accurate at first, our descriptions will
share objective information of the actual sound and its characteristics—
not transferring the sound experience to touch, taste, sight or smell terms,
or worse. Different levels of accomplishment in the above areas will bring
different levels of detail to communication and commensurate precision to
the descriptions (Moylan, 2015).
30 William Moylan

This way of describing sound can be applied to acoustic sounds, and

then later be directed toward recognizing the unique qualities of recordings.
How music studies can prove useful should become clear in the follow-
ing section.

Beginning to Hear . . .

Learning to hear these sound dimensions will require some new listening
skills. These listening skills will be directed toward identifying:

● Frequency and pitch levels and activity

● Amplitude and dynamic levels and changes of level
● Time judgments and rhythmic activity

Frequency, amplitude and time considerations are separate and distinct

from pitch, loudness and rhythm. With some experience in these six
dimensions, timbre and spatial aspects can be engaged.
A number of resources are available for learning frequency and ampli-
tude recognition, including Dave Moulton’s Golden Ears (1995) exercises.
A comprehensive set of exercises and guidance from Understanding and
Crafting the Mix (2015) by this author provides a sequential resource for
the physical dimensions of frequency, amplitude and time, and also the
music-related percepts of pitch, dynamics and rhythm; related studies in
timbre and spatial dimensions are also included, as well as guidance in
improving musical memory.
Drawing upon one’s previous experiences can also support the devel-
opment of these skills, and others. For instance, many of us have learned
to perform an instrument by mirroring performances on recordings; many
others have learned pieces of music from listening to recordings. These
activities develop and refine a sense of pitch, rhythm, dynamics and
expression (timbre shaping, etc., from performance intensity) that can be
applied to the process of understanding sound qualities and relationships.
This activity supports the development of many listening skills, as it can
be a resource in understanding subtleties of many dimensions of sound, as
well as bringing facility to traditional musical materials.
Similarly, if we have experience with traditional music dictation, that
skill will prove valuable in this context of learning to hear the unique
dimensions of recorded sound. Music dictation can pull the listener into
learning how to follow sound changes over time and to write down that
activity. Further, the act of taking music dictation develops memory for
musical materials, which will lead to developing memory applicable to
all other listening procedures that occur in the mix. Importantly, the act of
music dictation engages writing down what was heard, making it available
for reflection or for execution at a future time.
Of course, this skill utilizes musical notation and has limited applica-
tion to sound in audio and to the mix process. Another notational system
for writing the dimensions of sound, and for documenting dimensions of
How to Listen, What to Hear 31

recorded sound and the mix, need to be found. X-Y graphs can be adapted
for this purpose. Observations of many aspects of sound can be plotted as
X-Y graphs. This can be helpful to track how an individual dimension of
sound might exist over time. In Figure 2.1, we can observe the component
parts of a synthesizer timbre against time. This is the Moog synthesizer
glissando that appears at 0:12, ending the introduction to The Beatles’
‘Here Comes the Sun’ (Abbey Road).
X-Y graphs can now be used to support descriptions of sounds, supple-
menting objective language with visualizations of data. Describing sound
might thus become more direct, articulate, meaningful and effective. Ver-
bal description becomes more focused and universally understood, espe-
cially when supported by the graph’s plotting of the sound’s characteristics.
The X-Y graph is highly adaptable for all of the elements of sound
we might seek to teach. Further, it can be used at any level of perspec-
tive, from showing the smallest detail to depicting the overall shape of any
element’s material. Following is a table of graphs that are central to this
approach; each is dedicated to a single element and focused at a specific
level of perspective (see Table 2.3; Moylan, 2015).
Definition
Pitch

non-pitched

pitched
mf
RDL
Dynamic
Contour

mp

HIGH
Spectral

C6
Content

MID-UPPER
G 5
E5
G 4
MID B4

LOW-MID B3

mf
RDL
Envelope
Spectral

mp

pp

0 .2 .4. .6 .8 1.0 1.2 1.4 1.6 1.8 2.0 2.2 2.4 2.6 2.8

Figure 2.1  Sound quality evaluation graph of a Moog synthesizer sound from ‘Here
Comes the Sun’ (Moylan, 2015)
Copyright © Taylor & Francis, 2015
32 William Moylan

Table 2.3  Primary X-Y graphs for artistic elements at various levels of perspective

Element Perspective Graphs of Mix Dimensions

Pitch Individual Sound Pitch Area [Graph]

Individual Source Melodic Contour
Individual Source Pitch Density
Dynamics Composite Texture* Musical Balance
Composite Texture Musical Balance vs.
Overall Texture Performance Intensity
Program Dynamic Contour
Rhythm All levels Implied in all graphs
Sound Quality Individual Sound Sound Quality (Timbre)
Overall Texture Timbral Balance
Spatial Properties Individual Source Environmental
Composite Texture Characteristics
Composite Texture Stereo Location
Composite Texture Surround Location
Overall Texture Distance Location
Overall Texture Sound-Stage Dimensions
Perceived Performance
Environment
*
Composite Texture of the activities of all individual sound sources.

Creating these graphs draws one into the listening process directly, and
deeply. It brings detailed discoveries into what makes each mix unique,
and how they are shaped, as well as developing listening skills.

Engaging Listening, Listening Deeply

The process of listening begins with intention. When we bring intention to

listening, we have a sense of purpose and direction for our attention and
for what we are seeking to find; this can be a sense of what to focus upon,
or a sense of how to approach searching for information. We learn to bring
awareness to specific musical materials or ideas, to specific elements or
dimensions of sound, to bring our focus to specific levels of detail, to con-
ceptualize a level of perspective where sounds can be perceived as equal
in prominence in order to gauge their relationships correctly, and so much
more.
Listening with intention allows one to plan what information is sought,
and to take one’s attention to that task solely. Certainly, a great many types
of information can be extracted from what is heard at any moment; inten-
tion allows us to recognize that all of the information cannot be extracted
all at once, and that each listening has a specific purpose and may bring
attention to any specific aspect of sound.
Listening for one set of information is especially important at the begin-
ning. This provides the luxury of listening to only one aspect of sound,
ignoring all others. Limiting the listening to one topic will more quickly
How to Listen, What to Hear 33

and directly improve recognition of that element, and it will develop the
disciplines of focus and attention. It also embraces the reality that it is
not possible to hear several things simultaneously. Instead, there will be
repeated hearings of the material. Listening repeatedly to the same mate-
rial produces new results, as results are checked and observations refined,
or as the listener’s intention shifts to another element.
We will begin each listening experience with an agenda of intention;
the more specific the intention, the more effective the effort. This involves
directing attention correctly at every stage of the process. Attention can
be directed to a specific level of detail, a specific type of information and
specific aspects of sound. This is part of defining intention.
We listen and process information at various levels of detail. At each
level, sounds have certain characteristics, coalesce into a unique texture
and have certain types of relationships to other sounds. Certain qualities
might appear at one level and be significant, and not be relevant at oth-
ers. Identifying a specific level of perspective for each listening is import-
ant for defining its intention. The level of detail might be most readily
approached, especially during early learning, as ‘middle dimension’ lev-
els and ‘large dimension’ and ‘small dimension’ activities (LaRue, 1992;
Moylan, 2014). Table 2.1 provided some definition to these levels.
As skill develops, the process becomes more involved, and we engage
and contrast critical listening and analytical listening issues. We listen for
several types of information, related to the context of the material. Some
information will be related to the message of the recording (musical mate-
rials and their relationships) and some information will be unrelated to
context (such as the sound characteristics of a microphone or its place-
ment). Knowing that a sound’s qualities are being examined in isolation
(out of context) or in relation to other sounds (in context) brings the learner
deeper understanding and often a more direct way to listen to the material.
Listening with intention continues. This alternation of critical versus ana-
lytical listening practice can strengthen the sense of intention and focus in
the developing listener, particularly once control is becoming established.
Until control of material is gained, listening with intention brings greater
awareness of each aspect studied, with its dimensions and level of perspec-
tive, and develops the listening discipline to not be distracted by or pulled
to other aspects of sound (Moylan, 2015).
As a product of this process, sound memory is improved. Encouraging
listening as a separate process from writing brings us to remember what is
heard. Further, it is simply not possible to write and listen simultaneously.
Separating the two deliberately improves memory and brings greater
understanding to the material.
Once one is able to track each element of sound accurately, it is possi-
ble to move to engaging several elements. This process does not seek to
hear the qualities of several elements simultaneously. Instead, a deliber-
ate alternation between elements brings control to the process and greater
awareness to the material. After gradually improving and engaging more
sophisticated alternations of materials and levels of perspective, a time will
arrive when one can have an open listening field, scanning and listening
34 William Moylan

to discover unique or important sound qualities or sound relationships.

Ultimately, the listening process is one of either controlled exploration or
of specific focus, depending on the situation and purpose.

Listening Without Expectations . . .

The process of listening requires an open mind; a mind ready to engage

as relevant all that comes along, without expectations or personal desires.
This includes not having preconceived ideas for what will be heard and of
what we expect to hear in the recording. When listening to determine what
we believe to be present, we can imagine it when it is not present; worse,
we usually miss what actually is present.
It is common to listen for something, and to miss what actually occurs.
We can do this in conversation, when we hope to hear someone say what we
want to hear so intensely, that we hear it, although it is not stated; or do not
hear it when it is not stated precisely as we had hoped or expected. In music
this can happen similarly, as our minds find diversion in twisting musical
lines in ways not actually present in the song. In audio we can miss aspects
of sound that are unexpected as well; we anticipate a certain sound quality
and can imagine it present even if it is not, we can misplace our attention
and not perceive certain sound characteristics, the mind can take the listen-
ing experience in unimaginable directions of misperceptions based on our
prior listening experiences, and so much more (Handel, 1993).
These all work to distort the listening experience, often substantially
for beginning listeners (and not-so-beginning listeners). This problem can
show itself prominently in accurately hearing the mixes of existing record-
ings and in the many dimensions of the mix process itself.
How do we cultivate listening with a purpose, while listening without
expectations?
The successful listener is open to the possibility that any sound, sound
quality or sound relationship might take place, at any moment; that this
could be in any aspect of sound, and at any level of perspective. They are
aware that this sound material might be or might contain something they
have never before experienced—in any manner of form. They listen with-
out expectations to all sound material, even what might not be the most
important aspect of sound, as it is often still significant. In our listening,
we use this concept of equivalence to establish awareness that any aspect
of sound, at any level of perspective, may contain some quality or relation-
ship that is significant and that is worthy of attention (Tenney, 1986).
It is further understood that significance does not relate to importance;
the least important aspect of sound to the mix may still contain qualities
that are significant in one way or another (such as a barely audible sus-
tained synth chord, or the rattle in a rarely played tom drum). Likewise,
significance is not interrelated with prominence, as a significant sound
does not need to dominate the listener’s perception.
Listening without expectation allows one to be receptive to the unex-
pected and the unknown, ready to engage sounds or aspects of sound
How to Listen, What to Hear 35

never before experienced just the same as those known and expected. It
allows for accurately hearing and understanding something new, some-
thing unexpected—or recognizing and evaluating something known.
This openness to all aspects of sound will allow things to be detected and
embraced that otherwise might not have been heard. From this position,
new creative ideas or solutions might be discovered, or minute degrada-
tions in the signal path detected; from this position, a sense of engaging
all dimensions of the recording will be held.
From this position of equivalence, we engage listening to all levels of
perspective with equal attention, to all dimensions of sound as equally
worthy of our attention, to all critical and analytical information as poten-
tially significant in their contributions to the whole.

Listening Without Hearing . . .

Listening, that is, the deep listening required of audio, is hard work. It
demands one’s undivided attention, and it requires focused concentration.
We expend energy to keep the mind engaged. As time progresses, attention
is quick to suffer.
Remaining focused on listening is not easy. Our minds wander—a lot.
We can learn to bring awareness to this difficulty by reminding ourselves
very regularly and frequently to remain focused while listening. While we
can be quick to point at the many distractions of modern life making paying
attention more difficult now than ever before, difficulties in keeping focused
attention have always existed as part of the human condition (Nhất H a. nh,
2015). Indeed, it is part of our human nature and conditioning to constantly
shift our attention; we do this in a great many ways, and this often serves us
well—as we suddenly remember to do something important, just in time.
Here, let us remember that sound is a memory.
While we listen during the passage of time, we hear backwards in time,
considering what has happened. We do not know the duration of a sound
until it stops, we do not know the shape of a melodic line until it has
cadenced, we do not know the message of a song until it is over. Accurate
listening engages not judging or reaching conclusions until having listened
completely and considered fully what has happened. All of this happens
as a by-product of engaging an awareness of what is happening now, and
retaining (making a memory of) that experience to form larger experiences
and to compare one experience to others (Snyder, 2000; Moylan, 2015).
The wandering mind steps in the way of this process—in a great many
ways.
Often, our attention strays to switching between listening, music con-
cerns and the production process. This blurs our perception, focus and the
intention of listening—and greatly reduces our productivity. A few com-
mon examples are

● Musical materials that are particularly interesting, or distasteful

● Sounds one recognizes from other contexts
36 William Moylan

● Sounds or relationships that are particularly interesting or attractive

● Trying to figure out how a sound, or a mix (etc.), was created
● Being absorbed by the music or performance
● Being drawn to a certain line, such as bassists listening to the bass part
● Appearance of unique sounds or sound relationships (such as shifts in
the mix)

The process of listening has many distractions. We seem to have no limit

to things that can pull our listening off task and bring something off topic
into the center of our attention.
In an instant, the focus of attention can shift from what is being heard to
what to have for lunch; from the timbre of the snare drum, to getting our
car’s oil changed. Random thoughts and daydreams drift through unno-
ticed as you listen intently to the edit points in your comp track—and
miss them, for the fourth time. Remembering to pay attention, we work
through fatigue and distractions to stay on task. And we fail—quickly and
consistently; we fail to keep the focus of our attention. So, we should learn
to recognize this will happen, that this is normal. We can learn to recognize
when it happens and simply start over. If we acknowledge that this will
happen, we are more apt to recognize it when it does.
Now, let’s examine, and begin to hear, the dimensions of a mix.

What to Hear: Hearing the Dimensions of the Mix

When we are learning to mix, we are learning to balance prominence. We

bring the focus of our listening attention to individual sounds, and begin
to compare those sounds to others. Some skilled mixers will begin with all
instruments and voices present, then begin adjusting; many skilled mix-
ers will begin with specific sounds and build their mix; hybrids of each
are used by various individuals as appropriate to the project. However it
is approached, the mix unfolds in this process of bringing balance to the
prominence of instruments and voices.
When we listen to a mix, some sounds or musical ideas are more notice-
able than are others. Our attention is drawn to them. Or perhaps they stick
out. For one reason or another, they are prominent. Prominence is perhaps
what is conspicuous, or perhaps it is the thing that draws us to hold it in the
center of our attention. What is prominent is not necessarily most import-
ant, or most significant. What is prominent is simply dominating our atten-
tion in some way. Prominence can certainly be created by loudness, but
any other element of the mix can also bring prominence to a sound, to an
instrument, to a musical idea, and so forth.
When mixing, we are also making a fundamental decision of the amount of
clarity and blend of instruments and voices. The clarity of a sound in the mix
can provide prominence, and the blending of instruments and voices might
bring them to be more-or-less equal within the texture and in our perception.
We hear the mix at various levels of detail (perspective). In each, we
balance the prominence of sounds, but in different ways. ‘Balance’ often
How to Listen, What to Hear 37

brings to mind loudness, but the mix crafts balance within all elements.
Shaping the smallest details of individual sounds contributes to clarity
and blend in a great many ways and begins the pyramiding of perspective
relationships.

Details Within Individual Sounds

At beginning stages of the mix, the sound qualities of individual instru-

ments and voices are shaped. Shaping the qualities of sounds begins within
tracking and is finalized in the mix. Shaping of sounds often takes place at
the lowest level of perspective, and builds upwards through various levels
of perspective, as the mixing process adds sounds until all are present. It
might prove helpful to refer back to Table 2.1.
Individual sounds are shaped for their timbres in very exacting ways.
To hear this material, we need to allow ourselves to enter into the sound
to hear the components of timbre individually, to hear the dynamic enve-
lope, spectral content and spectral envelope of the sound. We have been
taught from birth to hear timbre as an overall quality, blending of all these
elements; it is unnatural for us to try to enter deeply into a sound, to bring
our attention to the qualities within its timbre. It is possible to perform this,
however, and the seasoned mixer can hear the minute aspects of timbre
qualities of instruments and voices, and follow them as they are combined
with other sounds and placed spatially during the mixing process.
The Moog synthesizer that ends the introduction to ‘Here Comes the
Sun’ was presented in Figure 2.1, above. At this level of detail, we can
perceive and recognize all aspects of the dynamic envelope, the frequency
of each partial of spectral content, and the dynamic contour of each par-
tial over the duration of the sound. Bringing our attention to the physical
dimensions of the sound allows us to hear the subtle details and allows us
to calculate them precisely in terms of frequency and in dynamic relation-
ships within the sound. This process of hearing timbral detail will prove
vital to controlling a number of mix elements (Moylan, 2015).
Distance of sounds is perhaps the most important element explicitly
determined by timbral detail. Instruments and voices appear to be located
at a distance from the listener (the person hearing the finished mix) by
the amount of low-energy timbral information present in the sound. The
higher the amount of subtle low-level information, the closer the sound
appears. In this way, sounds can be crafted to sound astonishingly close to
the listener, or infinitely far (Moylan, 1992, 2012).
While we might instinctively reach to add reverberation to create dis-
tance, timbral detail alone is responsible for this illusion. When reverber-
ation brings perceived distance to increase it is because timbral detail is
masked; without the loss of timbral detail, the instrument or voice will
simply sound like it is in a different, more reverberant room but at the same
perceived distance (B. Moore, 2012).
To understand the distance placement of sounds, we bring the focus of
our attention to the level of timbral detail—those aspects just described.
38 William Moylan

We then begin to use our knowledge of the sound to attempt to locate the
sound based on our previous experiences. We use our sense of self, our
sense of occupying personal space, to help determine if the sound is within
our area of proximity (where we might be able to touch the instrument or
slightly beyond our grasp), or a bit farther but still near to us (perhaps in
the same room), or perhaps at a location of considerable detachment, far
or well beyond our sense of space. Levels of timbral detail bring clarity to
these changes of relationship (Moylan, 2012).
Focus your attention on the distance cues of the McCartney’s lead vocal
in ‘Eleanor Rigby’. Hold the vocal in the center of your attention and con-
centrate on the amount of timbral detail; notice how the vocal shifts loca-
tion as low-level spectral information appears or diminishes. Some of these
changes are very subtle, and some will be very pronounced. You may hear
little or no difference at first, but once you are able to experience this qual-
ity and then hold this element within your awareness, these qualities and
their changes will unveil themselves. Listen carefully to the vocal in the
introduction, the first verse and the first chorus; track where McCartney
is in relationship to you, the listener. Once you begin to accurately per-
ceive this dimension, the substantial distance changes between sections will
become clear, and you will become aware of the subtle changes within the
verses. Listening to the two stereo versions (1987 and 2009) will reveal
subtle differences of distance, comparing them to the original mono mix
will create another contrast that should become noticeable (and ultimately
quite obvious) in its differences with repeated listenings. Remember to
keep awareness of timbral detail to determine distance; be aware not to
confuse loudness levels, or the amount of reverb present, with the distance
of McCartney’s vocal to your listening location.

Perspectives of Individual Lines and Aggregate Texture

of All Sources as Equals

Two distinct levels of detail comprise the middle ground of perspective.

A level up from individual sounds, sound sources (individual instruments
or voices) exist as individual lines, with their own characteristics in all
elements. These sources have their own shapes and characters that can be
heard and crafted individually and can be related to other, specific sources.
One level higher is the perspective of the aggregate texture; here all
sources are present and exist as equals. At this level, sounds can be held
with equal attention and compared as equals. Only on this level of perspec-
tive can sounds be accurately balanced; it is at this level that sounds can
be compared without one being more prominent by misconceived focus
of attention. All or any number of instruments/voices might be compared,
or all might be perceived simultaneously listening in this way. With this
equal attention, the mix can be crafted so one sound (or instrument, or
musical idea) might purposefully be made more prominent by the use of
some dimension of the mix, or all could be made equal in a blended sound.
How to Listen, What to Hear 39

Crafting musical balance is where this concept is critical. Musical bal-

ance is balancing the loudness levels of sound sources. It is natural to
hold one instrument in the center of one’s attention and attempt to com-
pare that loudness to others; this very act distorts the relationships. A shift
to holding a sound within attention can happen quickly, such as when a
new instrument enters, and especially when the lead vocal appears. When
we hold a sound in the center of our attention, it ‘appears’ to be loudest,
because it is occupying our awareness; for loudness to be balanced, sounds
need to be held equally in our awareness (Moylan, 2015).
We confuse loudness with prominence easily. We must remember loud-
ness is simply loudness—the perception of the sensation of the amplitude
of the waveform. Loudness is not prominence or significance; it is not
distance or timbral complexity; it is not necessarily what is in the cen-
ter of our attention; numerous other perceptions are easily confused with
loudness. Of course, something can be both loudest and prominent, etc.,
but the point is the most prominent, closest, most complex, widest, most
interesting, or most significant sound (etc.) is also not automatically the
loudest. One productive way of improving skill in musical balance is to
plot out simple dynamic contours and dynamic relationships of several
instruments—individually, then against one another, then as an aggregate
sound; this draws the listener deliberately into the appropriate level of per-
spective (Moylan, 1992).
Figure 2.2 provides the musical balance of the opening measures of
‘Strawberry Fields Forever’. Listen to these opening measures and bring
your attention to the Mellotron, then follow it throughout the example;

KEY
Voice 1
Electric guitar 2
Maracas 3
Snare 4
Mellotron 5

f
1 2
1 1 1 1 1 1
1 1
1 3 1 2
4 4 2 2
5 5
mf 2 2 4 4 2 4 4
4 4
5 5 3 3 3
mp 2 5
5
2

1 2 3 45 6 7 8 9 10 1112 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22
measures: 4 2 4 2 4 3 4
4 4 4 4 4 4 4
Introduction Chorus Verse 1

Figure 2.2  Musical balance graph of the opening measures of ‘Strawberry Fields
Forever’ (Moylan, 2015)
Copyright © Taylor & Francis, 2015
40 William Moylan

note how its loudness is shaped, and notice how your attention is diverted
(perhaps momentarily) when the vocal enters. Repeat this several times
and notice how you can obtain greater clarity in perceiving the changes
and subtleties of characteristics. Now try to shift your attention to the per-
spective where all sounds are held equally in your perception to notice the
musical balance (or loudness balance) of the sounds. Next, follow John
Lennon’s vocal for dynamic shape, notice carefully the changes between
sections; listen again, but shift perspective to observe the vocal’s loudness
in relation to the instruments of this section. Remember to remain focused
on loudness contours, or on loudness relationships and balance; practice
one skill at a time.
Timbres of the instruments and voices that we embraced above are
also present and functioning in this middle dimension. The mix also joins
all sounds by their overall timbre, which is the result of their inherent
sound quality and timbral alterations created by the expression and level
of energy of their performance intensity. The timbre of sounds sets up
a pitch density in the mix, whereby certain frequency/pitch ranges are
emphasized in the mix dependent upon instrument selection and the char-
acteristic timbres of those sounds. Some find it easiest to conceptualize
pitch density as a vertical dimension to the mix, where low to high pitch/
frequency is conceived bottom to top (A. Moore, 2012). Pitch density
exists at this dimension of the individual sound source, and again in the
aggregate mix; it is later reconceived as ‘timbral balance’ in the overall
texture dimension. How timbres are combined in the mix can provide
blend or clarity to sounds and musical ideas, and more. This is a rather
advanced concept that is typically learned after control of loudness and
spatial dimensions.
Beginning mixers are quick to recognize loudness and lateral locations
of sounds in the mix. In stereo, phantom images can span 90 degrees from
a point 15 degrees outside each loudspeaker, when the speakers are at a
60-degree relationship to each other. Instruments and voices are placed in
the stereo field during the mix process, and certain conventions have arisen
concerning where certain instruments and the lead vocal are placed, in cer-
tain types of music or to be most effective. The sound field is not comprised
of placement alone. Images also have width. The width of images coupled
with the location of images in relation to others will play very important
roles in the prominence, clarity and blend of sounds. Image sizes can range
from a very precise point source to occupying the entire width of the sound
stage; obviously most images fall between these extremes.
Figure 2.3 plots the stereo location of the primary sound sources in
the opening of ‘A Day in the Life’; two separate tiers allow us to see the
sounds more clearly. Note the different widths and locations of the sounds,
and how the acoustic guitar and piano images change in width at certain
points during the passage. Bring your attention to Lennon’s vocal, and
follow it as it moves gradually across the sound stage, and how its width
changes, sometimes subtly and sometimes markedly. Listen carefully to
the placement and widths of the percussion sounds, and notice how they
relate to and complement those sounds on the graph.
How to Listen, What to Hear 41

KEY
Voice Maracas
Piano
Bass Guitar

1 2 3 5 7 9 11 13 15 17 19 21 23 25 27 29 31 33
4 7 4
4 8 4
Intro Verse 1 Verse 2 Verse 3 Bridge
measures of 4 (except where marked)
4

Figure 2.3  Stereo location graph of ‘A Day in the Life’ (Moylan, 2015)
Copyright © Taylor & Francis, 2015

Conceptualizing the Interactions of Elements in the

Aggregate Texture

At the middle dimension, it is possible to observe how two or more ele-

ments interact. Hearing these relationships is obviously a more advanced
skill, but it is well worth acquiring, as it leads to engaging more advanced
mix concepts and much greater control of crafting mixes.
We can take our attention to a higher level of perspective and equally
hold two elements in our attention simultaneously. For instance, we can
perceive the interactions of pitch density information and stereo location.
In doing so, we can hear and recognize how the imaging that distributes
instruments/voices across the sound stage will also provide a location to
their frequency content—their pitch densities. Figure 2.4 provides a graph
that can allow this information to be plotted. In this graph, we can clearly
recognize how instruments occupy the same, different or similar frequency
regions, and how their lateral placements bring them to be separate or
overlapping with others. Attention to the distribution of pitch material
across lateral space can prove an effective means of localizing sounds to
provide clarity or blend, as desired (Moylan, 2012).
42 William Moylan

C10

F#9

VERY HIGH C9

F#8

C8
4186 Hz
F#7
HIGH

C7

#
F6 1397 Hz F 6
E6 1319 Hz
MID-UPPER

C6

F#5

C4
B4 494 Hz
A4 440 Hz
F#4
MID

C4
A3 220 Hz
G3 196 Hz #
F 3
LOW-MID

C3

F#2
D2 73 Hz
G2 65 Hz

F#1
LOW

C1

F#(23 Hz)

L C R
Figure 2.4  Sound source frequency content against stereo imaging

Allan F. Moore (Rock: The Primary Text) has devised a way of charting
three elements simultaneously. His ‘soundbox’ plots pitch density (ver-
tical), stereo location (lateral) and depth (distance) simultaneously with
a quasi-three-dimensional box. The soundbox can bring visualization to
sections of a mix with a clarity that many have found helpful, and it has
proved a useful tool in both studies of mixes and in practice of planning
and executing mixes.
A recording’s sound stage is the area that encompasses the lateral and
distance locations of all of the instruments/voices of a mix. It establishes
and defines the left/right and front/back boundaries of the illusory stage
from which the ‘performance’ that is the recording emanates. The imaging
How to Listen, What to Hear 43

of a mix locates each source in relation to the listener and at a specific

place on the sound stage. The sound stage is established by the interaction
of the elements: stereo location and distance location.
Figure 2.5 presents a sound-stage diagram with instruments and voice
placements. Viewing this diagram one can recognize the locations of
sounds, both in their placement on the sound stage and in their relation-
ships to the listener. The diagram can be useful in planning a mix or in
evaluating an existing recording’s sound stage.
Let us remember: phantom images have width, and therefore span an
area from one point to another. They may be very narrow or very wide.
But whatever their width, all of our human experiences have brought us
to simply identify where a sound is, and react accordingly. We have never
needed to try to process the width of a car horn, but merely localize where
it is and quickly determine the proper course of action. Determining the
width of sources requires bringing attention to the edges of the images to
determine where they cease to occupy space; this requires some practice.
The other dimension of the sound stage is depth. Remembering that dis-
tance is determined by timbral detail allows for the correct perception of
distance cues and distance placement on the sound stage. Distance location
allows us to identify the sound’s level of intimacy or level of detachment
from the listener. While phantom images occupy an area of lateral width,
these sounds do not occupy a depth area. We hear sounds at specific loca-
tions of distance from the listener; if there is a sensation of depth present,
it should not be confused with a width of depth. Rather, it is the result of
the listener conceptualizing the placement of the instrument/voice within

High Hat
Bass Drum
Perceived
Depth Acoustic Guitar
of
Sound High Kybd Low Keyboard
Stage
Lead Vocal
Background Vocals

Bass
Flute

Tambourine
Perceived Width
of Sound Stage

Listener’s Perceived
Location

Figure 2.5  Sound stage and imaging, with phantom images of various sizes and at
different distances (Moylan, 2015)
Copyright © Taylor & Francis, 2015
44 William Moylan

an appropriate environment. While the sound of an instrument/voice can

be sensed as having depth from the environment, it is conceived as exist-
ing at a specific spot within that environment. The sound source and the
environment it is performing in remain fused and inseparable in the listen-
er’s understanding—this happens in nature, so the listener expects it and
accepts it in recordings (Moylan, 2015).
This fusion of source and environment has the potential to shift mark-
edly in surround sound mixes—along with all other dimensions of the
sound stage and the relationships of the mix to the listener.

The Sound Stage in Surround Sound

Surround sound can deliver a stunning experience to the listener, in ways

that are very different from stereo recordings—ways that have the poten-
tial to be significantly richer. The listener’s relationship to the music and to
the performance has the potential to be strikingly different from stereo; it
can be an experience entirely transformed.
In stereo recordings, the sound stage is in front of the listener, as if the
recording is a concert of sorts. The size of the stage can vary from sources
being tightly grouped in the center to a full spread of 90 degrees in front
of the listener. The listener is an observer of the recording, a member of a
conceptual audience. They may be very close or very far from the sound
stage, but they will be detached from the stage of the recording and an
observer (Moylan, 2015).
In surround, there is no telling where the sound stage will be, or the
scale of its size. Every song, and potentially every moment in a piece of
music, can have a unique sound stage and might change the listener’s rela-
tionship to the music and its ensemble. This relationship of the listener to
the music and its message, to the musical materials of the song, and to the
sound sources/performers of the recording is both physical and concep-
tual. These are areas where surround can be vastly different from stereo,
and deliver a vastly different experience. Surround can also enhance stereo
with more realistic ambiance, or environmental characteristics; as such, it
enriches the stereo recording without substantially changing the listener’s
relationship with the sound stage (Moylan, 2012).
The listener’s relationship to the surround sound stage is a significant
characteristic of the recording. This relationship may be examined most
directly through considering (1) the listener’s location either as being located
within the sound stage or detached from it as an observer, (2) if detached, the
conceptual or perceived distance of the listener to the sound stage, and (3)
the location of the sound stage relative to the listener (Moylan, 2015).
In surround, listeners can find themselves located within the sound
stage, and listeners may also find themselves surrounded by the sound
stage, but detached from it. The listener within the sound stage is distinctly
different from sound sources being merely wrapped all around the listener
location. It is possible for the listener to get the impression they are within
the music, within the ensemble, perhaps part of the band (Holman, 2008).
How to Listen, What to Hear 45

The sound stage can be located anywhere around the listener. Its size
can encompass any portion of the 360 degrees around the listener. The
position of the sound stage relative to the listener might be reduced to (1)
the extent to which the sound stage resembles traditional stereo, (2) the
placement of ambiance and the perceived performance environment and
of the individual sources, and (3) the presence of an additional sound stage
or of sounds outside of the sound stage.
Figure 2.6 plots the opening of ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ (from LOVE).
Here the sound stage is in front, as in stereo but wider, and the ambience is in
the rear. This is a common approach that is related to conventional imaging,

KEY

1 Voice 1 6 Kick Drum

2 Voice 2 7 Snare
3 Electric Guitar 1 8 Hi-Hat
4 Electric Guitar 2 9 Hand Claps
5 Bass Guitar 10 Crowd and
Ambience

4 2
9 9

8 1
3
7

10

Figure 2.6  Surround sound stage of ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ from LOVE
46 William Moylan

with added control of the environment in the rear. In practice, the front-
center channel may change imaging matters considerably, as can be heard in
this example’s pronounced clarity to the individual musical lines in contrast
to the original mono version. This recording displays a width of sound stage
that extends slightly extending beyond the 90-degree spread of stereo, though
sources are largely grouped as if performing together live. The environment
cues are placed to the rear or to the sides of the listener, and are joined by
screams of crowd noise to depict some semblance of a live performance.
Imaging in surround sound is vastly more complicated than in stereo. In
stereo, phantom images are established by the interaction of sound emanating
from two loudspeakers; the resulting images may appear anywhere between
the two speakers or up to 15 degrees beyond. 5.1 surround-sound imaging
substantially changes the concepts of phantom image size and placement,
image stability and listener’s relationship to the music and the ensemble.
As seen in Figure 2.7, there are five primary phantom image locations
existing between adjacent pairs of speakers in surround. These images tend to
be the most stable and reliable between systems and playback environments.
Many secondary phantom images are possible as well. These can be
created and appear between speaker pairs that are not adjacent. These
images contain inconsistencies in spectral information and are inherently
less stable. Implied are different distance locations for these images, as the

* Adjacent Pair Phantom Images (Primary)

× Non-Adjacent Pair Phantom Images (Secondary)

C
* *
L R

× × × ×
* *

LS
* RS

Figure 2.7  Phantom images between pairs of speakers in surround sound

How to Listen, What to Hear 47

trajectories between the pairs of speakers are closer to the listener position.
These closer locations do not materialize in actual practice. The distance
location of these images are actually pushed away somewhat by the dimin-
ished timbral clarity of these images. This can create contradictory and
confusing sonic impressions.
When we consider locations caused by various groupings of three
or four loudspeakers, placement size and location options for phantom
images get even more complex—and less predictable.
This wealth of opportunity for mixers creates a complex set of possi-
bilities for imaging in surround and generates great potential for other
speaker-combination approaches to imaging. The format for 5.1 surround
provides the opportunity for as many as twenty-six possible combinations
of speakers. Table 2.4 lists the potential phantom images in surround that
may be established by the interaction of any of the five loudspeakers, in
any combination (Moylan, 2017).
As with imaging in stereo, the edges of phantom images are more deci-
sive to defining source locations and size than are their centers. The edges
of images allow us to understand and identify widths of images and where
and how they might overlap. With this awareness of the edges of images,
we can recognize how sounds are separated in space or blended. The sep-
aration of source images in surround can be very marked, and may grow
more pronounced as the width of the sound stage increases.
When using non-adjacent speakers for imaging, sounds blend and fuse
differently. Image placements and size can be unstable and vary quickly
with any listener movement. Sounds can both separate themselves from
others or become ill-defined, almost transparent sonically and largely
masked. When the imaging occurs from speakers on either side of the lis-
tener, the image can be confusing, as it localizes within the conceptual lis-
tener location, yet there is the impression of detachment due to diminished

Table 2.4  Possible combinations of speakers for generating phantom images in 5.1
surround sound; combinations exclude potential inclusion of the subwoofer

Number of speakers Number of combinations Combinations

2 10 pairs Adjacent pairs:

L-C, C-R, R-Rs, L-Ls, Ls-Rs
Non-Adjacent pairs:
L-R, L-Rs, C-Ls, C-Rs, R-Ls
3 10 groups of three L-C-R, L-C-Ls, L-C-Rs,
L-R-Ls,
L-R-Rs, L-Ls-Rs, C-R-Ls,
C-R-Rs,
C-Ls-Rs, R-Ls-Rs
4 5 groups of four L-C-R-Ls, L-C-R-Rs, L-C-
Ls-Rs,
L-R-Ls-Rs, C-R-Ls-Rs
5 1 L-C-R-Ls-Rs
48 William Moylan

timbral detail. Thus, phantom images from non-adjacent speakers compli-

cate and may confuse distance perception and depth of sound-stage mpres-
sions. These images exhibit peculiar characteristics. The interaural cues of
sounds produced from pairings of left- or right-surround and one or two
non-adjacent front speakers place the sounds close to the listener’s head,
but without heightened timbral detail. This is potentially confusing for the
listener, and it tends to make the sound stage unstable—or simply provide
conflicting information (Moylan, 2017).
Examine the imaging in the surround sound stage of Figure 2.8. In
this LOVE version of ‘Eleanor Rigby’, the performance and the ensemble

KEY

1 Voice 1 5 2nd Violins

2 Voice 2 6 Violas
3 Voice 3 7 Cello 1
4 1st Violins 8 Cello 2
9 Background Vocals, Intro

2 3 7

5
8
1

9
9
4

6
2 3

Figure 2.8  Surround sound stage of ‘Eleanor Rigby’ from LOVE, 0:00–1:09
How to Listen, What to Hear 49

surround the listener. During the Introduction, soft background vocals

appear as broad phantom images and shift locations at each appearance.
These shifting background vocals are represented in the shaded area around
the listener and are at a considerable distance from the listener; while the
distance location of these vocals shifts, all activity takes place within the
shaded area. During this first 1:09 of the song, the double string quartet
and vocals surround the listener, while a sense of being detached from the
song and the performance remains. This mix is significantly different from
the original and the re-mastered versions. It would be instructional for
the reader to compare this mix to those of the original mono version and
a stereo mix of the song—perhaps with the more contemporary timbral
balance of the re-mastered stereo version from 2009.
Another important aspect of surround-sound imaging is the various
ways environments might appear.
Unique to surround, the environments of individual sources can be sepa-
rated from the source itself. In effect, the environment can become another
source with its own location, width and character. The fusion of sources
and their environments that occur in stereo (and in nature) may also hap-
pen in surround, but it can also be deliberately counteracted by physically
separating the two sufficiently. The result is an impossible sound in our
world, with the unnatural separation of source and its environment, which
may or may not work in the mix.
The ambient sound of a perceived performance environment (PPE, to
follow next) can be separated from the sound stage as in the LOVE ver-
sion of ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’. It might also approximate a live per-
formance experience by being subtly blended within and extending the
sound stage, and then filling the rear of the space. Countless variations are
possible.

Highest Level of Perspective

Hearing the mix at the highest level of perspective, we engage the overall
sound—the sound of the mix as one, blended entity. Final shaping of this
level of perspective often is the role of the mastering engineer, though the
mix engineer fundamentally establishes these qualities and relationships.
The primary elements of this perspective (the overall musical texture) are
timbral balance, program dynamic contour and perceived performance
environment.
We hear one overall environment for the mix as the PPE. This is the
‘performance environment’ of the sound stage, or the world within which
the performance that is the mix takes place. The PPE can be crafted for the
mix, but it is most often perceived through the interactions of the environ-
ments of the mix’s instruments and voices. Its dimensions shape the entire
recording and bind all individual sound sources and their spaces into a
single performance area (Moylan, 1992, 2015).
Timbral balance might be considered the frequency response of the
mix, and it represents the recording’s ‘spectrum’. It is the distribution and
50 William Moylan

density of pitch/frequency information of the mix and is the combination

of all of the pitch densities of all of the mix’s sounds.
At this highest level of perspective, all loudness levels of the mix
coalesce into a single sensation of loudness. From beginning to end, the
mix unveils a program dynamic contour: a single dynamic level of the
composite sound that varies throughout the song, thus establishing a con-
tour or high-level dynamic envelope. This is the dynamic shape of the mix,
as a single variable loudness level.
Listening at this highest level of perspective requires one to focus on
the single sensation created by all of the sounds of the mix. The single
sensation will further be delineated to bring attention to only the overall
environment, to only the timbral balance, or to only the overall dynamic
contour of that overall sound. Just as we explored earlier, we must set and
hold a clear intention to listen to this overall sound in order to keep from
being drawn into details of a myriad of sources.

Conclusion: Shaping the Mix to Complement

the Music

In Mixing Music, it can be meaningful to remember: the recording is the

performance; the record is the song. The musical ideas and materials of the
song are given extra dimension and are thereby enhanced by the recording,
by the mix. The artistic elements described in previous sections provide
the raw materials for this enhancement. They can also add substance and
musical expression in themselves. This brings us to recognize that the mix
engineer is a creative artist: composing the mix, performing the recording.
The mix can contribute greatly to the musicality and musical materials
of the song—conversely, the mix can also be quite transparent. This points
to production philosophy and shaping the mix to be most appropriate for
the individual song, the musical style and the artist. The mix can have a
widely varied degree of influence on the song; no matter its prominence,
that influence is always present.
The recording process becomes a musical platform for shaping, enhanc-
ing, creating and presenting music. The song and the mix become insepa-
rable. Mixing Music is making music.
As the song unfolds, so does the mix. The mix effectively delivers the
song by shaping its dimensions to match, complement or enhance the char-
acter of the song, its message and expression. The mix is crafted to most
appropriately deliver the story of the song, the drama of the music, the
expression of the performance. As the mix unfolds and changes, it reflects
the characteristics of the song and adds substance and enhancements. The
mix and the music become entwined in synergy.
Above in ‘What to Hear’, we examined the artistic elements of
recordings—the dimensions of the mix—and how those elements func-
tion on three levels of perspective. We considered briefly how elements
interact and form a complex tapestry of relationships that become
woven into the song. These discussions were overviews of topics that
How to Listen, What to Hear 51

are very rich in detail and vast in their influences on the mix and on the
music. How the mix, or more fully how the recording, transforms music
is examined deeply in the author’s new book: Recording Analysis: How
the Record Shapes the Song (Routledge, 2017).
The relationships between the dimensions of the mix and the creative
process of crafting the mix are also examined throughout the author’s
Understanding and Crafting the Mix: The Art of Recording (Focal Press,
2015). A significant portion of the book is dedicated to developing lis-
tening skills; some of which were introduced above. Understanding and
Crafting the Mix also contains greater detail on the materials presented in
this chapter, and applies it to analyze mixes for artistic elements and much
more. It explores mixing as a creative process, in other words.
To conclude, let us remember that Mixing Music begins with listening.
That listening is a focused activity to be learned; it is a skill that can be
developed. Listening is paying attention, and remembering to pay atten-
tion. Listening is bringing attention to a specific aspect of sound, or hold-
ing an open awareness for what might arrive. Listening can be seeking
specific information, and can bring awareness to any level of detail and any
element of sound. We listen without preconceived ideas or expectations,
and hold the possibility of the unknown arriving in the next instant.
Listening also requires knowing what to listen for—what to seek to
hear. Listening and hearing work in tandem. Listening takes place during
the passage of time, an event unfolding moment by moment in the present.
Hearing takes place in memory; considering what has happened, we hear
backwards in time.
If hearing is perceiving and recognizing, hearing only really arrives
with knowledge and experience; these inform and refine perception to
bring realization and understanding. It is for this reason that we carefully
examine the unique qualities of recordings and refine our skills at hearing
subtle details—so we might become aware of how those details are shap-
ing our recordings, and so we might embrace mixing as a creative process.
We can learn to conceive and compose our own mixes, and establish
our own musical voices—once we are in control of the recording and mix
processes, and once we know what to hear, and learn how to listen.

Bibliography
Butler, David (1992). The Musician’s Guide to Perception and Cognition. New York: Schirmer
Books.
Clifton, Thomas (1983). Music as Heard: A Study in Applied Phenomenology. New Haven,
CT: Yale University Press.
Deutsch, Diana (2013). The Psychology of Music, Third edition. Orlando, FL: Academic
Press.
Handel, Stephen (1993). Listening: An Introduction to the Perception of Auditory Events.
Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.
Holman, Tomlinson (2008). Surround Sound: Up and Running, Second edition. Boston, MA:
Focal Press, Elsevier.
LaRue, Jan (1992). Guidelines for Style Analysis, Second edition. Detroit: Harmonie Park
Press.
52 William Moylan

Levitin, Daniel J. (2006). This is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession.
New York: Plume.
Moore, Allan F. (2002). Rock: The Primary Text. Aldershot: Ashgate.
Moore, Allan F. (2012). Song Means: Analysing and Interpreting Recorded Popular Song.
Burlington, VT: Ashgate.
Moore, Brian C.J. (2012). An Introduction to the Psychology of Hearing, Sixth edition. Lon-
don: Elsevier Academic Press.
Moulton, David (1995). Golden Ears: Know What You Hear. Sherman Oaks, CA: KIQ Pro-
duction, Inc.
Moylan, William (1992). The Art of Recording: The Creative Resources of Music Production
and Audio. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold.
Moylan, William (2012). ‘Considering Space in Recorded Music.’ In The Art of Record Pro-
duction: An Introductory Reader for a New Academic Field, eds. Simon Frith and Simon
Zagorski-Thomas. Surrey: Ashgate Publishing Limited, pp. 163–188.
Moylan, William (2014). ‘Pathways Through Recording Analysis.’ Delivered to the 137th
Audio Engineering Society International Convention, Los Angeles, October 9. Paper
Proceedings.
Moylan, William (2015). Understanding and Crafting the Mix: The Art of Recording, Third
edition. Burlington, MA: Focal Press, Taylor & Francis Group.
Moylan, William (2017). Recording Analysis: How the Record Shapes the Song. New York:
Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group.
Nhất H anh,
. Thích (2015). Silence: The Power of Quiet in a World Full of Noise. New York:
HarperCollins.
Polanyi, Michael (1962). Personal Knowledge: Towards a Post-Critical Philosophy. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
Roederer, Juan (2008). Introduction to the Physics and Psychophysics of Music, Fourth edi-
tion. New York: Springer.
Schaeffer, Pierre (1966). Traité des objets musicaux. Paris: Editions du Seuil.
Schaeffer, Pierre and Guy Reibel (1966). Solfège de l’objet sonore. Paris: Editions du Seuil.
Snyder, Robert (2000). Music and Memory: An Introduction. Cambridge, MA: The MIT
Press.
Tenney, James (1986). Meta ≠ Hodos and META Meta ≠ Hodos. Oakland, CA: Frog Peak
Music.
Thompson, William Forde (2015). Music, Thought, and Feeling: Understanding the Psychol-
ogy of Music, Second edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Discography
Beatles, The. ‘A Day in the Life’, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, EMI Records Ltd.,
1967, digitally re-mastered 1987. CDP 7 46442 2.
‘Eleanor Rigby’, LOVE, EMI Records Ltd., 2006. 0946 3 79810 2 3/0946 3 79810 9 2.
‘Eleanor Rigby’, Revolver, EMI Records Ltd., 1967, digitally re-mastered 1987. CDP 7
46441 2 0.
‘Eleanor Rigby’, Revolver, EMI Records Ltd., 1967, stereo digital re-mastered 2009. 0946
3 82417 2.
‘Eleanor Rigby’, Revolver, EMI Records Ltd., 1967, mono digitally re-mastered 2009. LC
0299 509999945823.
‘Here Comes the Sun’, Abbey Road, EMI Records Ltd., 1969, digitally re-mastered 1987.
CDP 7 46446 2.
‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’, LOVE, EMI Records Ltd., 2006. 0946 3 79810 2 3/0946 3 79810
9 2.
‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’, Meet The Beatles! EMI Records Ltd., 1964, re-mastered 2004.
CDP 7243 8 66878 2 1.
‘Strawberry Fields Forever’, LOVE, EMI Records Ltd., 2006. 0946 3 79810 2 3/0946 3 79810
9 2.
‘Strawberry Fields Forever’, Magical Mystery Tour, EMI Records Ltd., 1967, digitally
re-mastered 1987. CDP 7 48062 2.
3

Proxemic Interaction in Popular

Music Recordings
Dr. Ruth Dockwray

This chapter discusses sonic spatialization and the notion of proxemics

in recorded tracks. Spatialization, or rather the spatial characteristics and
positioning of sounds within a track, can directly influence the way a lis-
tener can formulate their own interpretation. Through the analysis of prox-
emic zones within the context of the ‘sound-box’, their impact in terms
of interpersonal distance and listener engagement will be discussed along
with potential meanings.
First, the sound-box, within which the sounds appear, needs to be
explained. The ‘sound-box’ (Dockwray and Moore, 2010) is a heuristic
model of the way sound source location works in recordings.1 The sound-
box acts as a virtual spatial field within which sound sources can be located
at any single moment as existing in a three-dimensional virtual space: lat-
erality of the stereo image, perceived pitch-height of sound sources and
perceived proximity to a listener. Second, ‘personic environment’. This is
a term coined by Moore (2005), which delineates between the persona evi-
denced in a recording and the musically coded environment, in which that
persona is virtually located. This environment is normally communicated
through three factors: location of sound sources within the sound-box, har-
monic vocabulary, and form and narrative. Finally, the application of prox-
emics. Proxemics is used to refer to sonic, or rather vocal, characteristics
that are audible on the track and more specifically, the relation between the
listener and the persona and personic environment.
The term proxemics originated with the anthropologist Edward Hall,
who used it to refer to “man’s perception and use of space” (Hall, 1968:
83). Hall’s theory of the communicative use of space can be separated into
four zones: intimate, personal, social and public, as shown in Figure 3.1.
For each of these zones, Hall lists key ‘dimensions’, such as postural,
sociofugal, kinaesthetic, touch, retinal combinations, thermal, olfaction
and voice loudness to describe the types of interpersonal behavior that
may be identified. Each of these zones or distances relates to levels of
comfort that people may feel with another person within that distance.
Within each zone, Hall also notes a close and far phase, which helps to
determine the type of interaction observed in that zone. However, the near
and far phases seem only applicable to the intimate zone (see tables in

53
54 Ruth Dockwray

Figure 3.1  Hall’s proxemic zones

Hall, 1969: 126–127).2 Indeed, it is worth noting at this point that each
type of interaction as discussed by Hall that takes place within each zone
is not universal and, as he states, “proxemic behaviour . . . is culturally
conditioned and entirely arbitrary” (Hall, 1969: 115).
With Hall’s zones, he offers a specific way of discussing space and differ-
ent types of distances, which can be applied to recorded song. More specif-
ically, the interpersonal relationship and zone location that is focused on is
that between the listener’s perceptual position and the position of the song’s
persona, as modified by its (personic) environment (see Moore, 2005).
The use of Hall’s theory enables the listener to determine elements and
qualities of each zone through the concept of ‘personal space’ (the individ-
ualized space that surrounds a person) and the concept of ‘interpersonal
distance’ (the related distance between two persons). To identify the per-
ceived distance between the listener and the persona, the listener needs
to engage in the overall scene of the track, which offers aural clues as to
spatial placement and perceived proxemic distance.
Drawing on Hall’s bodily dimensions, some important qualities refer
directly to the analysis of recordings (‘aural’ and ‘oral’) and others are
merely implied (‘vision’) when articulating the zone placement of the
Proxemic Interaction in Popular Music 55

persona. The oral and aural aspects of Hall’s receptors in proxemics per-
ception can be directly applied to recordings, such as whispering and soft
voice in the closer zones and loud voice and full speaking voice in the
distant zones. These vocal distinctions can be identified as ‘qualifiers’ and
form part of the paralinguistic features that Lacasse (2010) discusses in his
work on phonographic staging, which enable the aural interpretations of
the interpersonal distance and placement of the persona to be made by the
listener. Lacasse also discusses ‘alternants’ (vocal sounds that can include
“inhalations and exhalations and gasps”), which as he mentions are often
used in a musical context, but when highly audible may also be identified
as being part of the intimate or personal zone.
While these paralinguistic features may go some way in articulating the
persona, the loudness or intensity of the voice needs to be taken into account
and is again relative to the personic environment. As Moylan (2007: 140–
142) discusses, the “perceived performance intensity” and the “dynamic
level” are both important in the listener’s perception of the persona’s prox-
emic placement and the relationship between the persona’s performance
environment. The perceived performance intensity is the original level of
the sound source, which may be altered in the overall dynamic level of the
track. This allows, for instance, a vocal whisper to be heard at a higher level,
relative to the rest of the sonic sources in the recording. While the perceived
loudness has been manipulated, the sonic properties of the whispered voice
have not changed and therefore give the listener clues as to perceived proxe-
mic location of the persona. In this sense, the loudness can serve to enhance
the interpersonal distance between the listener and the persona, particularly
when analyzing the intimate zone. In terms of the intimacy that can be cre-
ated between then listener and person, Nicola Dibben (2009) discusses the
effect of the voice within the mix and the importance of vocal characteristics
in the articulation of the persona and represented emotions, in terms of “per-
forming intimacy” (p. 319). In this sense, amplification “creates intimacy
between listener and singer, and communicates the ‘inner’ thoughts of the
song character and/or performer” (Dibben, 2009: 320).3
Kylie Minogue’s track ‘Slow’ presents an example of this type of inti-
macy, which can be perceived by the listener. Kylie’s persona is presented in
an intimate zone as evidenced by her audible vocal qualifiers and alternants,
such as her whispered voice and clarity of breath intakes. Her intimacy and
close proximity to the listener is also made evident through the lyrics that
also situate the persona in the intimate zone. Hall’s close-intimate phase
descriptors highlight the potential of physical contact and “the high possibil-
ity of physical involvement is uppermost in the awareness of both persons”
(Hall, 1969: 117). What is also interesting about this example is how Kylie’s
persona occupies a wide area of the sound-box, which suggests closeness to
the listener and emphasizes Hall’s ‘vision’ aspects of each zone. Vision, in
terms of head size and peripheral vision, can be perceived in terms of sonic
placement within the sound-box; however, in order to illustrate this notion,
the concept of the ‘framing variable’ needs to be discussed.
The relationship between the perception of interpersonal distance and
the framing variable considers the notion of para-proxemics, a term coined
56 Ruth Dockwray

by Joshua Meyrowitz (1986), which focuses on the perceived or, rather,

relative size of an object in order to judge its distance from the perceiver.
Visual techniques, such as close shots, bring the main object into focus,
and analogies can be drawn with audible contexts. In this context, the
framing variable refers to the relative ‘size’ of the persona (as manifested
aurally) in comparison to other environmental sounds that suggests which
of the four zones are operative. So, as in the case of Kylie’s track, her
vocals seem to be relatively larger than the rest of the sonic elements in
the track, occupying a larger space within the sound-box. Musically, the
persona can be said to be in focus, referring to the increased definition of
a sound source and increased sound-source width.
The qualities of spatial elements, such as sound-source width and its
relationship to the environment, are examined by Moylan (2007, 2009) and
are important aspects in the consideration of interpersonal distance percep-
tion and framing variable. The process of considering the aural clues to spa-
tial placement can be described as ‘auditory scene analysis’, which Albert
Bregman (1990) used as a way of analyzing individual sounds, through
the process of segmentation, segregation and integration. While Bregman’s
approach focuses on isolated sounds, Francis Rumsey (2002) offers another
means of classifying auditory processes that also considers the spatial envi-
ronment. By focusing on not only the attributes of the sound sources but
also the spatial environment (attributes of the particular space), the percep-
tion of spatial placement becomes clearer and enables what Rumsey terms
a “scene-based understanding” both of where sounds are placed (with rela-
tion to each sound) and also of the type of space in which they appear.
Rumsey argues for three categories: width, depth/distance and envelop-
ment, which are applied to individual sounds and environment. Of these,
the width and depth of individual sound sources, the width and depth of
the spatial environment, and the sense of envelopment remain valuable for
our purposes. The difference between depth and distance is subtle: dis-
tance is the distance between the ‘front’ of a sound source and a listener,
while depth acknowledges that there can be a ‘back’ to that sound source,
and the difference between front and back delivers depth. By acknowledg-
ing these attributes of sounds, the proxemic positioning of the persona can
sometimes be more clearly discussed.
Taking into account Hall’s zone dimensions, Rumsey’s approach to
scene analysis and Meyrowitz’s para-proxemics, it is possible to present
an initial tabular summary of the aural dimensions that are common to
each proxemic zone (see Table 3.1). The table focuses on the distance of
persona to listener/degrees of intervention, the persona and personic envi-
ronment (including envelopment, degree of separation and location of per-
sona within the sound-box) and the articulation of persona.
One particularly effective example of different proxemic zones audible
on recorded tracks is ‘All My Life’ by the Foo Fighters. In the opening
section, the persona can also be identified as being located in the inti-
mate zone. However, it is different from the intimacy of the previous Kylie
track. Lead singer Dave Grohl’s persona can be perceived as being sit-
uated in what Hall classifies as the far phase of the intimate zone. His
close proximity to the listener is immediately evident by the vocal quality
Proxemic Interaction in Popular Music 57

Table 3.1  Proxemic zones

Zones Distance of persona Persona/environment Articulation of

to listener/degrees of persona
intervention
INTIMATE -Very close to -Persona set in front -Close-range whisper
listener (i.e., environment -Clarity of vocal
touching distance) -Normally high sounds (coughs,
-No intervening degree of breath intake)
musical material separation between -Lyrical content
persona and suggests intimacy/
environment potential
-Vocal placed at front physical contact
of sound-box and and addresses
abuts the boundary interpersonal
of the sound-box relationship
between two
people
PERSONAL -Closer to listener -Persona in front of -Soft to medium
(within arm’s environment vocals
length) -Still a certain degree -Less clarity of vocal
-Possibility of of separation sounds
intervening but less than in - Lyrical content
musical material intimate zone addresses two or
-Vocal not a forefront three people
of sound-box,
set back from
boundary
SOCIAL -Medium distance -Persona within the -Medium to loud
from listener environment vocals
-Intervening musical -Little separation and -Few, if any, vocal
material more integration sounds heard
-Vocal placed within -Lyrical content
the center of addresses small/
sound-box medium group of
people
PUBLIC -Large distance from -Persona engulfed and -Full, loud vocals,
listener towards the rear shout/semi-shout
-High degree of boundaries of the -No vocal sounds
intervening environment heard
musical material -High degree of -Vocals address large
integration group of people
-Vocal placed towards
the back of sound-
box

(semi-whisper) and audible vocal breaths due to the close miking of the
sound source. His lyrics do not suggest intimacy, but rather are centered
on himself and his search for something. The lyrics are also indicative
of his close proximity, as he makes clear that “nothing satisfies but I’m
getting close, closer to the prize at the end of the rope”. Additionally, the
58 Ruth Dockwray

guitar in the introduction also plays a key role in the proxemic positioning
of Grohl, as it provides a point from which the listener can perceive the
vocal’s relative distance from the listener and its distance from the guitar.
The wide sound source of his persona, which spans the entire scene width
and high definition of the vocals, brings Grohl into focus and perceptually
closer to the listener.
The ensemble width, or rather, the perceived width of the main group of
sound sources, allows for the differentiation between other sound sources
that are spatially detached from the rest of the ensemble. Source separa-
tion and increased source definition can also provide the listener with an
increased perception of the degree of distance the persona is from the rest of
the ensemble and from the listener. The sonic attributes of each sound source
provide aural clues to spatial positioning; for instance, the lower dynamic
and narrow source width of the guitar immediately places the guitar behind
the vocals.
Half a minute into the track ‘All My Life’, the group width is increased
by the entering of the rest of the sound sources and now seems to encom-
pass the entire scene width. The persona is no longer detached from the
environment and is enveloped by the individual sound sources of the
ensemble, reducing its definition from being in focus and detached to
appearing as part of the ensemble and less in focus. The difference here is
that the guitars panned to each side appear to be closer to the listener, and
the persona has changed in terms of vocal delivery (now shouting) and is
dynamically louder in an attempt to be heard over the rest of the ensemble
(or personic environment)—placed in a social zone.
Interestingly, the speed with which the persona moves from one zone to
another highlights the possible discomfort Grohl feels about being in an
intimate zone and in such close proximity, disclosing personal facts. His
need to quickly come out of that zone into a more social zone suggests
there has been an invasion of personal space, which he clearly is uncom-
fortable about. He later returns to the intimate zone before the chorus,
albeit briefly.
Changes of proxemic zone are perhaps among the most interesting uses
of space within recordings. Leona Lewis’s cover of Snow Patrol’s ‘Run’ is
one such example and is representative of the gradual movement from one
zone through the others. The track begins with Lewis in an intimate zone,
backed by a resonant piano very much in the background. The piano is
joined at 45" by mid-range sustained strings, providing a carpet of sound.
At 1'08", both strings and Lewis achieve an upper range in terms of reg-
ister: while the degree of reverb has not altered, it is as if she has stepped
back, as the greater range opens her words to a wider audience. By 1'38",
she is no longer foregrounded by her environment, but the whole texture
has receded into a social space, or rather the environment has moved
towards us. In the second verse at around two minutes, the drum kit (which
had previously consisted simply of on-beat ride cymbals, which had been
crucial in bringing the environment to the fore) falls into a conventional
pattern, and any remaining illusion of intimacy is lost. (She now seems
proud of her profession of constancy.) By 3'20", both she and the strings
Proxemic Interaction in Popular Music 59

appear with full force and are subsequently joined by a full gospel choir,
any sense of restraint lost, as if she no longer cares who hears. Lewis’s
persona is fully enveloped by the environment. Thus, the increased envel-
opment of the persona by the environment clearly marks the change in
proxemic zone from intimate to public space.
Moore (2005) discusses how the persona can be articulated through the
lyrics and the importance of lyrics in determining proxemic placement and
the degree of interpersonal distance. As Table 3.1 illustrates, the lyrical
content also gives the listeners clues as to the person or persons being
addressed and the location of the persona with a particular proxemics zone.
One such distinguishable feature is the use of pronouns, which articulate
who is being addressed. The combination of vocal attributes, lyrics and
personic environmental features enable the listener to identity the different
zones, as evident in this next example.
With regard to the social and public zones, the perception of proxe-
mic placement and interpersonal distance relies not only on the level of
personic environmental envelopment but on lyrical modes of address.
Hall’s descriptors for the social and public zones state that other people
are seen and are important in peripheral vision, alluding to the notion of
co-presence and group communication, as opposed to the intimate zone,
where communication is to an individual. Group communication relies on
public modes of address, increased voice level and the use of full voice.
While the voice level is “a significant variable in judging distance” (Hall,
1963: 1016), it is the lyrical content and public mode of address in this next
example that places the persona in a more social/public zone.
In the rock anthem ‘We Will Rock You’ by Queen, the listener locates
Mercury’s persona as being in a social space. The full-voice vocals, a
medium distance away from the listener, are evidently communicating to
a group of people through Mercury’s persona being situated within the
environment consisting of multiple hand claps, suggesting co-presence.
The social zone location remains throughout the track, with little differ-
ence between the verse and chorus in terms of Mercury’s vocals. The only
change occurs with the personic environment, which thickens in texture
during the chorus due to the addition of multi-backing vocals, thus wid-
ening the overall width of the sound source and engulfing the lead vocals.
The public mode of address as evidenced by use of the pronoun ‘we’
and the interchangeable use of ‘you’ from the singular to plural serve to
emphasize the social/public proxemics placement and the increased inter-
personal distance from the listener. Such is the nature of rock anthems that
they rely on group participation and a sense of co-presence. Rock anthems
essentially induce gestural and vocal participation, which creates a sense
of community through this interaction with the listener and the audience
in live contexts (Dockwray, 2005).
There are examples of rock anthems where several different zones can
be heard across the track. The different audible zones are particularly
significant for rock anthems as they act as a cue for audience participa-
tion, which is typically during the chorus. In another of Queen’s tracks,
‘We Are the Champions’, the verses situate Mercury in a personal zone,
60 Ruth Dockwray

characterized by the soft to medium vocals, close proximity of the listener

near the front of the sound-box and the clarity of the vocals from the bass
guitar and piano, offering a clear separation in terms of spatial placement.
The chorus, on the other hand, situates Mercury in a public zone, char-
acterized by the full loud vocals and his persona being engulfed by the
sound sources and in particular the multi-backing vocals that occupy a
wide selection of the sound-box.
Spatial movement can portray a spatial relationship, particularly in
the case of rock anthems, where gestural participation, such as raised
arms (clapping and swaying) is a visual indicator of audience inclusion.
The gestures of reaching out with the arms as part of the audience/band
interaction is a means for both groups to connect and reduce the distance
between each group, metaphorically speaking. The reaching-out gesture
can be seen as a form of proxemic behavior, which endeavors to reduce the
interpersonal distance, albeit in a psychological sense. While the social/
public zone is implicit on the recording, the proxemic interaction translates
from an audible to a visual interaction within a live context.
The examples in this paper aim to demonstrate the ways in which prox-
emics offers a theoretical perspective that contributes to the potential way
in which a listener may experience a track and provides a language that
begins to acknowledge spatial placement and the perceived location of the
persona, in relation to the listener.

Notes
1 See Moore (2002: 120–126) on the concept of the sound-box; Moore and Dockwray (2008)
and Dockwray and Moore (2010) for the uses of the sound-box and taxonomies of sound-
box uses (Moore, 2012).
2 The application of proxemics is used in the work by Maasø (2008), which focuses on the
mediated spoken voice in a film sound context. Interestingly, he notes that the near-far
phase seems applicable in a mediated voice context, as opposed to recorded tracks, where
the different levels of intimacy can be differentiated, through vocal qualities and lyrics.
3 For more analysis on the application of proxemics in terms of intimacy and the intimate
singing voice, see Dibben (2013).

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Dibben, N. (2009). ‘Vocal Performance and the Projection of Emotional Authenticity.’ In The
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pp. 317–334.
Dibben, N. (2013). ‘The Intimate Singing Voice: Auditory Spatial Perception and Emotion in
Pop Recordings.’ In Electrified Voices, eds. D. Zakharine and N. Meise. Göttingen, Nied-
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lectivity. PhD thesis, University of Liverpool.
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Dockwray, R. and Moore, A.F. (2010). Configuring the Sound-Box 1965–1972. Popular

Music 29 (2): 181–197.
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Hall, E.T. (1969). The Hidden Dimension. London: The Bodley Head.
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Discography
Foo Fighters. (2002). “All My Life,” One by One. CD, RCA 82876 50523 2.
Lewis, Leona (2008). “Run,” Spirit (deluxe edn). CD, J Records 88697 46016–2.
Minogue, Kylie (2003). “Slow,” Body Language. CD, Capitol CDP 7243 595645 0 0.
Queen. (1977). “We Will Rock You” and “We Are the Champions,” News of the World. CD,
EMI Parlophone—CDPCSD 132 (1993, Remastered Reissue).
4

Top-Down Mixing—A 12-Step

Mixing Program
Phil Harding

This chapter is an ethnographic reflection of my working practices as a

producer, engineer and mixer in the 1990s. In what follows, I suggest that
the methods I used then are still useful in the context of modern popular
music mixing. To do this, I conceptualize mixing in two different ways,
specifically as a ‘top-down’ and a ‘bottom-up’ creative practice. ‘Top-
down’ in this concept refers to starting a mix with the lead vocals and
then working ‘down’ through the arrangement to the drums. ‘Bottom-up’
mixing refers to the opposite. Bottom-up mixing begins with the drums
and ends with the vocals. The latter method, in my experience, has been the
traditional routine in rock, pop and dance music genres since the 1970s.
“It will be all right at the mix” and “it’s all in the mix” (Cauty and
Drummond, 1988, p.117) are phrases I’ve heard in recording studios
since I started making records in the mid-1970s. By this time, a multi-
track recording, requiring a final stereo mixdown session, was already a
very well established part of the production process. The mixing process
is barely touched upon in The Manual (How to Have a Number One the
Easy Way) (Cauty and Drummond, 1988) by Jimmy Cauty and Bill Drum-
mond of The KLF, first published in 1998, and to be honest I do not go
into the 1980s SAW mix process in any great detail in my own book PWL
From the Factory Floor (Harding, 2010). William Moylan (2015) notes
that “people in the audio industry need to listen to and evaluate sound”.
I would agree with Moylan and other academics that prolonged periods of
critical listening “can be used to evaluate sound quality and timbre” (Moy-
lan, 2015:186). What is timbre in music? Zagorski-Thomas (2014) notes
that timbre is “a function of the nature of the object making the sound as
well as the nature of the type of activity” (Zagorski-Thomas, 2014, p. 65).
Ultimately, the mixing process is something that needs to be performed,
practiced and mastered by every creative in this time of diversity. Compos-
ers and musicians, as well as engineers and producers, will find themselves
in the mixing seat due to budget or time constraints in an age where bud-
gets for all types of recorded music and audio have fallen by 25% or more
since the 1990s. The following 12-step program still serves me well after
40 years of experience as an industry practitioner and is a framework for
others to experiment with.1

62
Top-Down Mixing—A 12-Step Mixing Program 63

It was during my boy-band production period in the1990s that I stum-

bled upon the idea of starting a mix with the vocals. Possibly it was the
large production-based projects that Ian Curnow and I created with East
17, in particular their 1994 Christmas #1 single ‘Stay Another Day’. I was
mixing this track in the summer of 1994. It was the day before going on
a family holiday, and a huge mixing task lay in front of me with over 50
vocal audio tracks together with multiple keyboards, drums, bass and a full
orchestral arrangement, programmed by Ian Curnow, including the Christ-
mas tubular bells. All of this was across 48 tracks of analog tape, so some
sub-mixing had already been done in Cubase Audio in our production
suite at the Strongroom Studios. Nevertheless, there were at least 10 to 16
tracks of vocals to be dealt with, as quickly and efficiently as possible, so
that I could get home at a reasonable time for our holiday journey the next
day. Apart from the usual lead and harmony vocals from vocalist Brian
Harvey, there were also counter chorus vocals from band member Tony
Mortimer and four-part chorus harmony vocals, all double-tracked, from
each band member in the chorus. Then there were a large quantity of cho-
rus harmonies, each quadruple-tracked by session vocalist Tee Green, plus
verse harmonies and answers from the band members and Tee. Finally,
there was a backing vocal counter melody on the outro of the song, again
quadruple tracked by Tee Green.
As the family holiday deadline loomed, I had a ‘light bulb’ moment and
decided that I would start the mix with Brian’s lead vocal, supported by
the main song pad synthesizer for some musical perspective. From that
day on, this has been my adopted mixing method for every record I have
mixed regardless of genre. I believe this does not just work for boy bands
or pop music; it can work for any mix that contains vocals. One may need
to adapt the starting null-point for other digital audio workstations (DAW)
and software, but this has worked very well for me on hardware such as
the SSL G-series and Pro Tools software. The following is my ‘12-Step,
Top-Down’ mix routine for either software or hardware.2

Step 1. Main Lead Vocal and Master Fader

For my first step, I would set the main lead vocal fader to zero—that can be
the group master or the individual fader if I have more than one lead vocal
track. Also, I set my master fader to zero. If the vocals are well recorded,
this will be a good start point and hopefully a good null-point setting for
the mix overall.

Step 2. Song Pad or Guitar

Next, I would bring in the song pad keyboard or whichever instrument

plays most of the way through the song and supports the main vocals—this
could be an acoustic guitar for a singer/songwriter track or the main elec-
tric guitar for a rock band. I balance whatever this choice is on the track
64 Phil Harding

well behind the lead vocal in a supporting role, making sure that it is not
fighting for space with the vocal; it could always be raised later in the mix
process.

Step 3. Main Acoustic Guitar Accompaniment

At this point, I consider turning that instrument into a stereo soundscape,

if it is not already. The reason for this is to fill out the stereo picture behind
the vocals. If the keyboard pad is mono, I put a simple stereo chorus on it
(set as subtly as possible) via an auxiliary send. Same for the guitar if it is
a mono signal; later in the mixing process I remove that from the acous-
tic guitar. Currently, when recording a main acoustic guitar for a typical
singer/songwriter, I generally record three signals into a DAW:

a. A feed from the internal guitar pick up via the direct injection (D.I.) box.
b. A small diaphragm condenser microphone over the acoustic hole,
angling in from the fretboard—typically a Neumann KM84.
c. A large diaphragm condenser microphone on the body of the acous-
tic guitar, below the guitarist’s strumming hand but out of the way of
being hit by that hand—typically a Neumann U87 would do this job
well, as would an AKG C414.

Step 4. Lead Vocals

Now I would start processing the lead vocal. Below is my standard set of
vocal mix techniques:

a. Insert a vocal compressor starting with a 3:1 ratio and the threshold set
so that the gain reduction meter is only active on the louder notes.
b. Set up an auxiliary send to a vocal plate reverb with a decay of about
three seconds and a high-pass filter (HPF) up to 150 Hz.
c. Set up an auxiliary send to a crotchet mono delay effect with around
35% feedback and 100% wet.
d. The equalizer settings are entirely dependent on how the vocals sound,
but typically if the vocals were recorded flat (and I will not know unless
I have recorded them), then I would boost a few decibels (dB) around
10 kHz or 5 kHz and consider a 4 dB cut at 300 Hz to 500 Hz and also
an HPF up to 100 Hz, provided this doesn’t lose the ‘body’ of the vocal
sound. If the vocal is already sounding too thin, then I would try a boost
from around 150 Hz to 250 Hz, but no lower than that, as I would want
to save any boost of 100 Hz downwards for kick drum and bass only.
e. My final ‘go to’ on a lead vocal, and I apply this later in the mix,
is the Roland Dimension D at its lowest setting—Dimension 1. The
Universal Audio plug-in virtual copy of this piece of hardware is a
good replacement and again this would be on an auxiliary send, in
addition to keeping the original signal in the stereo mix. The effect on
the Dimension D is still set to 100% wet and balanced behind the lead
Top-Down Mixing—A 12-Step Mixing Program 65

vocal to create a stereo spread, but strangely it has a wonderful effect

of bringing the voice forward, hence this is best used later in the mix,
when there is more going on behind the lead vocal.

As you may have gathered by now, I am building a multi-dimensional land-

scape of sound across a stereo picture. During my mixing process, from
the 1980s onwards, I have always used my sonic landscape in relation to
a picture landscape. To take that further in the mixing stage, I imagine the
picture as 3D so that I can analyze the staged layers in a deliberate attempt
to separate the instruments for the listener and to help those instruments
mold together as one. This should sound to the listener as though the musi-
cians (live or programmed) and singers are in one space—or all on stage—
together. I use the word ‘picture’ deliberately here, because that’s how
I plan a final mix, like a multi-dimensional landscape painting, with the
lead vocal at the front and heart of the picture. I usually have this picture
in my head before I even start the production, and I believe this is a fan-
tastic way to plan a commercial pop production. First, you have the vision,
which is built around the artist, the direction that they and their manager
and label want to go, and then you have the song, either written for or cho-
sen by the artist and the team around them. Then there are various plots,
comparisons, influences and directions all chosen by you, the producer(s),
in collaboration with the artist, their record label and their manager. That
gets thrown into a creative melting pot that you as the producer, engineer
and mixer have to deliver, making complete sense and showing that you
allowed all of those suggestions to influence the final product. One could
compare it to painting by numbers, but it is not quite that strict, as you are
constantly reviewing and changing as you go along. In my experience, the
most important person to listen to will be the client, whether that is the
artist, manager or more frequently the label. The other thing that made
sense in my boy band work and this mixing method in the 1990s was that
the focus for acts such as East 17, Take That and Boyzone is totally on the
boys and their vocals. This is the case whether it’s the media (especially
radio and television), their manager, the record label or most important of
all—the fans. None of these people is initially focusing on the rhythm or
the music; if that is all working well behind the vocals, then it is doing its
job. This is also the reason we heard so many 1990s boy-band song intro-
ductions featuring vocals, often edited from the chorus that would come
in within the first minute of the song. It could be said that what I have
described above forms my ‘Phil Harding Signature Mix Sound’, or as Simon
Zagorski-Thomas (2014) calls it, “a schematic mental representation”.

Step 5. Double-Tracked Lead, Harmony

and Backing Vocals

The next step is for me to bring in the rest of the vocals behind the lead
vocals—any double- or triple-tracked lead vocals would be 5 dB below the
lead vocal. This will give the effect of ‘fattening’ the lead without losing
66 Phil Harding

the character of the main lead that we are likely to have spent hours editing
and tuning after the recording. Typically, this works very well in a pop cho-
rus. All of the processing I have described for the main lead vocal would
generally go onto the double-track lead vocal except for the crotchet delay.
I tend to leave that just for the single-lead track, otherwise it can sound
messy if it is on the double as well. Next would be any harmony vocals
recorded to the lead vocal, generally a third up or maybe a fifth below. If
the harmonies are single-tracked, then they would remain panned center.
If they were double-tracked, then I would pan them half left and right, or
even tighter. Processing on these would be similar to the lead vocals but
with no delay effects. Finally, to complete the vocal stage of the mixing,
we move onto the chorus backing vocal blocks, which would often start
with double- or quadruple-tracked unisons to the lead vocal in the chorus.
This is to add strength and depth, as well as a stereo image with these
panned fully left and right. From there, all of the other harmonies in the
chorus would be panned from the outside fully or, for instance, half left
and right for the midrange harmonies, tight left and right at 10 o’clock
and 2 o’clock for the highest harmonies. All of these need to be at least
double-tracked once to achieve a true stereo. The processing would be
applied on the stereo group fader these vocals are routed to. This saves
the computer system DSP by not processing the individual tracks. Typical
backing vocal processing would be compression first, set similarly to the
lead vocal, equalization, again similar to the lead vocal but less low mid
cut and minimal HPF. The vocal reverb would stay the same, though it’s
worth considering a longer reverb time, four seconds or higher to place
the backing vocals farther back from the lead vocals. I would not put the
crotchet delay on the backing vocals except for a special, automated effect
on one or two words. I send the backing vocals to a small amount of quaver
delay overall to give them a different and tighter perspective to the lead
vocals. Multiple tests and use of this methodology since the 1990s have
proven to me that this is a repeatable formula for all pop and dance mixes.
I may wish to vary my iteration of this with more delays and processing
for extended and club mixes (especially by more use of the crotchet delay
on the backing vocals), but for a radio and video mix, the above techniques
almost guarantee an industry standard and accepted sound.

Step 6. Pianos and Main Keyboards

Pianos and keyboards add more musicality and support underneath the
new vocal stereo sound spectrum that has been created. In terms of time,
steps 1 to 5 could take half a day of your time; so if I have not already done
so, I would take a break before step 6. I would advise taking a break every
two hours to rest your ears and equally so these days the eyes, which have
been constantly staring at computer screens throughout this process. Some
people say that our ears are only good for four hours work per day. I am not
sure I agree with this, especially if regular breaks are taken. Often I will
be happy to stop my day’s work after step 5 and come back completely
Top-Down Mixing—A 12-Step Mixing Program 67

fresh on another day. I would have already prepared my keyboard stereo

group fader (auxiliary input track in Pro Tools in my case) and I would
bus all the keyboards at this stage to that group fader. Unlike the lead and
backing vocal groups, the keyboard group is unlikely to have any process-
ing, auxiliary sends or inserts; it is just there as an overall level control
for typical keyboard overdubs such as synthesizer pads, pianos, organ,
bells and so on. Most virtual keyboard sounds and hardware keyboard
sounds will generally deliver a stereo signal, and my first job would be
to make panning decisions. You can, of course, leave everything panned
hard left and right, therefore allowing the original patch programmers of
those sounds to decide on the stereo image. I prefer to take control of this
myself. I will even go as far on a programmed acoustic piano part to split
the stereo audio track into individual lefts and rights. I do this so that I can
process each side of the piano individually. This raises an important point
that applies to drums as well as pianos. You need to make a decision on
the performing ‘stereo image’ of some instruments—are you panning as
though you are the performer/player or are you panning as though you
are the audience? My preference is the performer’s perspective; therefore,
you imagine you are the piano player in this case and your left hand, or
low-end piano part, is panned hard left and your right hand or mid- to
high-end piano part is panned hard right. This puts the listener in the piano
seat, a wonderful perspective in my view and particularly effective for the
listener on headphones. Therefore, when we get to them, I recommend the
same panning perspective on the drums, i.e., put the listener on the drum
stool. My typical equalization for a stereo acoustic piano—this is the same
whether it is a live piano or a programmed stereo sample. On the left-hand
side, I engage a low-pass filter (LPF) down to around 8 kHz or 7 kHz,
consider a small boost around 3 kHz to bring out the rasp of the low piano
notes. Then, coming down the frequency spectrum, I consider a 2 dB to
6 dB cut in the low mid-frequency (300 Hz to 900 Hz) to get rid of any
unwanted ‘boxy’ sound, as I call it. Finally, I may want to boost some low
end to bring out the depth of the piano; I would restrict this from 150 Hz to
200 Hz, as I am saving the frequency ranges below that for the bass (100
Hz) and the kick (50 Hz). I know all this sounds very strict and specific,
but it works as a very efficient start point.
For the right hand of the piano, I do almost the opposite to the process-
ing of the left hand. I start with an HPF up to around 150 Hz, perhaps
higher. I engage a small low mid-frequency cut between 300 Hz to 900
Hz again, but you could also leave it flat if you prefer. Then I experiment
with boosts of around 5 kHz and 10 kHz, with quite large bandwidths to
brighten the piano. I find that when you bypass these left and right equal-
izers and then put them back in for comparison, that width and separation
of the stereo perspective of the left- and right-hand piano parts will be
enhanced. The other aspect of having split the stereo piano track into mono
left and right is that after all of the equalization I have described, you can
add a little of the vocal reverb plate to the right-hand side of the piano
only; this will help to balance the piano into the track and bring it closer to
the vocals. The final thing to consider on the piano is compression, which
68 Phil Harding

ideally should be first in the insert chain, so as not to be affected by your

equalization choices. Again, I keep the compression simple, starting with
a 3:1 ratio and adjusting the threshold to activate the gain reduction on the
louder parts.

Step 7. Other Keyboards and Orchestra

Other keyboard parts really have to be treated on their own merits, and
ideally one should find a space for them that fits behind either the main
piano or pad—or they jump out as a feature of their own. If there were
programmed string and orchestra parts, I would deal with them next.
Typically, for strings I like to have a longer plate or hall reverb setting,
at around four to five seconds in length and ready to go on an auxiliary
send. I would have an HPF on the strings up to 150 Hz and definitely no
LPF; I prefer a completely flat top end. For brass, programmed or live,
I would send them to a small plate or a room setting at around 1.5 sec-
onds in length. Other rhythmic keyboard or sequence parts I leave until
I get the drums in, but certainly I would check them at this stage for any
need to add compression and equalization, or possibly rhythmic quaver
delay to bed them into the track. It’s not unusual to have strings and
orchestra on pop productions, whether they are real or programmed
samples—the mix processing on both are very similar. For the orches-
tra hall reverb, where I’ve already explained the settings, I would only
send the violins (first and second) to this, plus the harp (often arranged
to work with the strings), but a lesser amount on the violas. I would
generally keep celli and double basses dry. If there were woodwinds as
well, I would send them to the vocal reverb plate so that they are a little
tighter than the violins. My ideal string recording setup is described in
Howard Massey’s excellent book The Great British Recording Studios
(Massey, 2015: 178). My equalizer recommendations on a live orches-
tra would be:

a. An HPF on the violins to cut out celli and double bass spillage up to
300 Hz. Then a small boost between 8 kHz to 12 kHz.
b. For the violas, I would use an HPF up to 100 Hz and a small top end
boost at 5 kHz.
c. For celli, I would generally leave them flat other than a small boost at
3 kHz if they need it to cut through the balance.
d. The double basses I would keep flat.
e. For the harp, I would consider an HPF up to 200 Hz, a small cut at 300
Hz to 900 Hz and small boost at 8 kHz to 10 kHz.
f. For the woodwinds, a small boost of around 5 kHz to 10 kHz and an
HPF up to 100 Hz.

All of this should help the orchestra to blend together and to blend
into the track. Notice there has been very little low middle cutting on the
orchestra in my loathed 300 Hz to 900 Hz frequencies.
Top-Down Mixing—A 12-Step Mixing Program 69

Step 8. Guitars—Acoustic and Electric

I would generally deal with acoustic guitars before electric guitars. If the
production were centered on an acoustic singer/songwriter, then the artist’s
main guitar part would have been my first support instrument of choice
while processing the lead vocal. I described in step 3 how I would record an
acoustic guitar for a singer/songwriter-orientated production, and I would
now record any acoustic guitar part the same way for safety, but in a
double- or triple-tracked guitar backing I would only use the microphone
that was on the guitar sound-hole (Neumann KM84). The equalization
choices for the acoustic guitar on the mix would typically be HPF up to
100 Hz; a 2 dB to 6 dB cut at 300 Hz to 900 Hz, and if it sounds too dull
then apply boosts at 5 kHz and 10 kHz. All of this is for the multitracked
one microphone acoustic. If you have just one main acoustic and you are
using the multi microphone technique and direct injection that I described
in step 3, then I would pan the ‘body’ condenser signal hard or half left and
leave it virtually flat other than a 300 Hz to 900 Hz cut, I would even con-
sider a 150 Hz–200 Hz boost or 2 dB to 4 dB to give more depth. I would
then pan the sound-hole microphone hard or half right and duplicate the
equalization described for the multitrack acoustic but possibly with the
HPF up to 200 Hz. The direct injection signal would feed in behind the
stereo microphones in the middle, probably kept flat, but at this stage you
should check the phasing of the three signals combined and finally con-
sider a tiny bit of the vocal reverb plate on the right-hand signal to help
blend the acoustic guitar into the track. Certainly, I would avoid room,
ambience or hall reverb.
Electric guitars are so technically varied these days I would again record
three signals if I were involved at the recording stage:

a. A dynamic microphone such as the Shure57.

b. A large diaphragm condenser like the Neumann U87 or AKG414 or
even a ribbon microphone on the guitar speaker cabinet.
c. A D.I. signal from the guitar for any future re-amping plug-ins to be
added at the mix stage.

In the hope that the guitar sounds are well sourced and well played—I
do little or nothing at the mix stage. I generally do not touch the low fre-
quencies or lower mid-frequencies, deliberately leaving them in because
I am cutting them so much elsewhere. If the guitar sounds at all dull,
I only boost around 4.5 kHz, as I am trying to leave 5 kHz and above to
the vocals, piano, acoustic guitars and cymbals on the drums. I would
only consider any reverb or delays if the guitarist has not used any pedals
or guitar amp effects. Thankfully, the technology of guitar effect ped-
als and the effects on guitar amps is good enough now, I believe, for
engineers to trust their quality and low noise ratios. I generally trust the
guitarist to deliver the sound that feels right to them on their amplifier
to suit the track. If the guitars have been recorded flat and dry, I would
add some short plate or ambience reverb between one to two seconds
70 Phil Harding

in length and some quaver delay with around 30% feedback for rhythm
guitars. Usually I would apply some longer reverb and crotchet delay for
solo and lead guitar parts.

Step 9. Bass

Much like the electric guitars, I do very little to the bass. I would hope to
have D.I. and amplifier signals and I would use a single large diaphragm
condenser microphone on the bass amplifier at the recording stage (Neu-
mann U87). I compress the signals at the first stage of the mix insert chain,
being careful to only use 2:1 ratio, as anything above that can destroy the
low frequencies. I generally boost both signal paths at 100 Hz (I have been
saving this frequency in this ‘top-down’ mix method exclusively for the
bass). Finally, this is where I would try the Roland Dimension D using
the same settings and auxiliary send setup as I did on the lead vocal. This
will add a stereo perspective to the bass and some more warmth. I also add
a small boost around 1 kHz to 2 kHz (the only time I use these frequen-
cies), after the drums are in, if the bass is not cutting through the mix or
sounds as if it needs more edge. Regularly now I will also experiment with
the Sansamp on the D.I. signal—this is a very useful amplifier simulator
plug-in that comes free with all versions of Pro Tools.

Step 10. Drums—Live or Programmed

Finally, we get to the drums, which for the traditional rock, pop and dance
genre mix is usually the first step. What I have found strange and yet
enlightening in my 40-year career is the similarity in the methods and
sometimes even sounds for drums, certainly the processing of them, which
can work for all three genres: rock, pop and dance. Generally metal rock
drums will need a different specialist approach, but it is astounding that
similar compressions, gating, equalization and ambiences will all work
fantastically to give drums the same amounts of power required. At this
point, I really have only very roughly balanced the various elements from
the vocals down to the bass, but the important thing is that I will have
looked at everything individually. I will regularly need to mute the vocals
to achieve some of the things I have described here, but I will put the
vocals back in as I move through each step. Now for the drums, I need to
focus mainly on bass, drums and guitars in the balance. It is tough to start
gating, compression and equalization accurately on drums when the vocals
are still in the mix and prominent. As with a ‘bottom-up mix’, I would
start with the kick but I usually bring the whole kit in roughly and quickly
under the current balance to remind myself of what the drums are doing.
In my chain of kick inserts, it would be gate first, then compression, then
equalization. I prefer to see inserts in that order, as I do not want the equal-
ization to affect my gating and compression settings. I would set up a side
chain if I felt that was required. Copying the kick track before you start
Top-Down Mixing—A 12-Step Mixing Program 71

the processing is a good idea, because the gating and equalization can
end up being quite drastic (especially on live drums) and you may wish to
balance in the unprocessed original track. The same can be done for the
snare track. Typical equalization on the kick would be a 2 dB to 6 dB cut
at 300 Hz to 900 Hz and a boost of 2 dB to 6 dB at 50 Hz; if more ‘slap’
or pedal-beater is required, then boost 2 dB to 6 dB at 3 kHz, but no higher
than that as we are saving 4 kHz and upwards for the guitars, keyboards,
strings, vocals and cymbals. Typical snare equalization would be a 2 dB to
6 dB cut at 300 Hz to 900 Hz, boosts of 2 dB to 6 dB at 4.5 kHz and 2 dB
to 6 dB at 7 kHz or 8 kHz. The kick and snare gating would aim to isolate
them from the rest of the drum kit, and typically you would hope to elim-
inate snare spill on the kick signal and hi-hat spill onto the snare signal,
always being careful to allow as much release and ‘hold time’ to allow the
drum decay to breathe before the gate closes. Compression on the kick
and snare should be minimal, as they will be likely to drive compression
on the overall mix at the end of the session. An individual compressor on
the kick should start at a 2:1 ratio for the same reason as mentioned on the
bass; higher compression ratios can have the effect of losing low frequen-
cies. A major part of the snare sound will be the choice of room ambience
effect, even something like the D-Verb in Pro Tools, set to medium room
and below one second in length, can give you a good room ambience for
drums and instantly the snare will be more powerful and sound as though it
is part of the track. I would also send the tom-toms to the same room ambi-
ence effect, then gate the tom-toms to eradicate spill from the rest of the
drum kit or, more efficiently, you could edit them to only remain where the
tom-toms play throughout the track. Any equalization on tom-toms would
be minimal, a moderate boost around 4.5 kHz is all I would do if they are
lacking attack or sounding too dull. Overhead cymbals and hi-hats should
all have similar equalization to bring out the cymbal sound and to eradicate
kick, snare and tom-tom spillage. My equalization for these would be an
HPF up to 200 Hz to 300 Hz, a cut of 4 dB to 6 dB at 300 Hz to 900 Hz,
a small boost at 5 kHz and 10 kHz. That concludes the drum processing.
An important decision is panning perspective, as was the case with the
piano. We need to decide on panning to the ‘player perspective’: hi-hat left,
tom-toms left to right, overheads left to right—or the ‘audience perspec-
tive’: hi-hat right, tom-toms right to left and overheads right to left. I much
prefer the player version on drums and piano. If I have some stereo room
microphones recorded for the drum session, I make sure that their panning
matches the close microphones and consider a similar equalization to the
overhead cymbals. I often experiment on the room microphones with some
heavier compression at a 6:1 ratio or more and an overdriven threshold
setting. You will need to raise the compression output or make up gain,
but this can sound very powerful. My personal microphone choices when
recording drums are

a. Kick—Electrovoice RE20
b. Snare—Shure SM57
c. Hi-hat—AKG C451
72 Phil Harding

d. Tom-toms—Beyer 101s
e. Overheads—AKG C451s
f. Room microphones—Neumann U87s
g. Ride cymbal AKG C451 on the bell of the ride cymbal and route that
to its own track to enable control of this during guitar solos and so on

Step 11. Final Stereo Balancing and Tweaks

Everything has now been individually processed and each step has dealt
with a group of overdubs or a single instrument at a time. After the drum
step, the main lead vocals should still be prominent in the balance when
I bring them back in. Now is the time to achieve the overall mix balance, and
if I have been listening on large studio monitors or quite loudly on nearfield
monitors—one often has to when processing individual sounds, I would
consider taking a break. I believe it our duty as creative technicians to make
sure that the overall mix is playable without ear damage at high volume. This
is because many listeners, who we hope are excited by the music we create,
want to listen loud. But at this stage of the mix you should come down to a
quiet or medium volume on your nearfield speakers to achieve the final ste-
reo balance. In an ideal world, I would approach step 11 on a fresh day—or
at least after an extended break. I find that these final tweaks can take up to
half a day, maybe checking on headphones, flipping between speakers and
volumes and possibly running a test mix wav file or CD to listen to in differ-
ent environments, such as your home hi-fi system or car stereo. Also, at this
final step, I would send the lead vocals and bass to the Roland Dimension
D, as mentioned earlier, to help the lead vocal stand out from the track; the
Dimension D has an effect of bringing the vocal forward. While we do not
want the bass to be as loud as the lead vocal, the Dimension D effect brings
it forward and gives a stereo perspective that is generally a nice touch.

Step 12. Master Bus Compression

Overall limiting or compression, subtly, on the stereo mix master or bus

is the last thing to look at. A low compression ratio of only 2:1 or 3:1 is a
good starting point, and the idea of limiting or compression here is only to
subtly control any peaks in the overall mix (not to boost the level—that is
a different process). We should always bounce or export an unmastered 24
bit wav file for future mastering. For a listening copy to go to the clients and
artists, I would now insert a digital compressor/maximizer such as ‘Maxim’
in Pro Tools. This can raise the overall mix level to commercial levels, which
means that should the clients or artists compare the mix to another commer-
cial release, the mix will be close to that kind of volume and peak level. See
the Maxim screenshot in Figure 4.1 for one of my typical settings.
As a first mix, I would generally expect clients and artists to come back
with comments and suggestions that will require a revisit to the saved mul-
titrack file and session. For this common industry reason and practice,
Top-Down Mixing—A 12-Step Mixing Program 73

Figure 4.1  Typical Maxim settings, inserted on the stereo Master Fader in Pro Tools

I have generally dispensed with using automation on commercial pop

tracks that are mixed entirely in the DAW. If I have achieved the whole mix
‘in the box’ with no outboard hardware, recalling the mix is fast and easy.
I hope that the requested adjustments will also be fast and easy, whether
I agree with them or not. If, for instance, I have automated the lead vocal
on the initial mix, it becomes very awkward to make level adjustments
on other instruments because everything would still need to work with
the potentially rigidly automated lead vocal levels and rides. This is quite
hard to explain but will become obvious with continued practice. The way
around this is to go through the lead vocal track, zooming in on the wave
display to help you, and then go through the song and make the required
adjustments, up or down, by using the audio ‘gain rendering’. I know this
sounds a little strange and even unprofessional, but by my continued use
of this task it became second nature, and by applying mix adjustments of 4
dB to 6 dB or higher (common in pop), it became easier and I found myself
no longer battling automation left over from the first mix. The only things
I tend to automate now are extra vocal delay-send boosts (to emphasize
one or two words) or quick equalization changes to help any vocal ‘pops’
that have slipped through on the recording.

Conclusions and Final Notes

The idea with this method of mixing is that one is concentrated on the
song from the minute of starting the mix, and although I have described
the process from the vocals down, it would also work for instrumentals and
other non-vocal-orientated tracks where you would start from your lead
instrument or ‘theme’. Fauconnier and Turner (2002) talk about “concep-
tual blending” as an unconscious human activity, and that’s exactly what
I seem to do in my mixing approach. Short ambience on the drums are
blended with medium- to long-plate reverb on the vocals, then those vocal
reverbs are blended with my crotchet mono delay as highlighted in step 4.
These are good examples that describe the types of technology we engage
while mixing a record using today’s technology. Another common industry
74 Phil Harding

practice in 2016 that I have not mentioned is the dropbox file sharing sys-
tem. This is useful when either engaging others to perform a mix for you
or also if you have been hired for a mix. Exchanging multitrack files via
dropbox has become common practice, and I recommend signing up for an
account to enable participation in this.

Technical Appendix: Export and Import Procedure

to a Mix Template File

My current (2016) pop production technology process is to start compo-

sitions and productions in Logic Pro. At the point of a completed produc-
tion, I then export all of the individual tracks, both MIDI and audio, that
are still open in the final session file, as wav audio files 24 bit / 44.1 kHz
(or 48 kHz) or higher as the project permits. Before doing this, for effi-
ciency, I would go through all of the tracks left to right (L-R) on the mix or
edit window screen and add a number from 01 onwards to all of the track
names. This means that when you or someone else imports them, all of the
tracks will line up L-R in numerical order on any typical music software
mix window. This is a fast and efficient process in Logic Pro. Highlight all
of the open tracks from bar 1 beat 1 (this is standard industry practice) to
the end of the song. From the software pull-down menu select File > Export >
All Tracks as Audio Files and be sure to bypass Effect Plug-ins and do
not include Volume/Pan Automation. See the screenshot in Figure 4.2. This
will now be exported as raw audio data, ready to be imported into Pro Tools
or any music software of your choice. It would also be useful to export one
MIDI file from Logic Pro (I would suggest a pad or piano) to retain the
song arrangement markers and tempo; this saves a lot of time in Pro Tools.
I would suggest, before importing this into a Pro Tools session, that some
time is spent creating a blank (no audio or MIDI data) Pro Tools mix template
file (see the screenshots in Figures 4.3 and 4.4). This is a useful time-saver.
It is a tiny file, and each time you are ready to start a new mix, you create a
new folder, copy your mix template Pro Tools file into it, launch Pro Tools
from that file, rename the song in a ‘save as’ from the file menu option and
start by importing the MIDI track from Logic Pro. Position and highlight the
track to the left of the auxiliary groups (refer to the template screenshot in

Figure 4.2  Logic Pro: export ‘All Tracks as Audio Files’ menu choice recommendation
Figure 4.3  Pro Tools Mix Template edit window

Figure 4.4  Pro Tools Mix Template mix window

76 Phil Harding

Figure 4.4) and then import all of the audio tracks, also at bar 1 beat 1. The
final task before starting the 12-step mixing program is to position all of the
auxiliary ‘group VCAs’ to the right of the cluster of audio tracks you want
them to control. Route those audio tracks, via buses, to the corresponding
input buses of the VCA groups, for instance, all drums and percussion can
go to bus 11–12 (we have saved buses 1–10 for auxiliary effects sends). See
the Pro Tools mix template screenshots in Figures 4.3 and 4.4 to see how this
final process should look.
Now refer back to step 1.

Notes
1 Please note that throughout these steps I refer to the 300 Hz to 900 Hz frequencies as dis-
liked or loathed by myself. I have never found an occasion when it is useful to boost this
frequency range. I find it to be ‘muddy and boxy’ when boosted and will generally recom-
mend either cutting these frequencies or leaving them flat.
2 There is a technical appendix at the end of this chapter that describes my audio and MIDI
file export procedure from Logic Pro to Pro Tools. You may want to read that before
embarking on step 1.

Bibliography
Cauty, J. and Drummond, B. (1988). The Manual (How to Have a Number One the Easy Way).
London: KLF Publications/Ellipsis.
Fauconnier, G. and Turner, M. (2002). The Way We Think (Conceptual Blending and the
Mind’s Hidden Complexities). New York: Basic Books.
Harding, P. (2010). PWL from the Factory Floor. London: Cherry Red Books.
Massey, H. (2015). The Great British Recording Studios. San Francisco, CA: Hal Leonard
Books.
Moylan, W. (2015). Understanding and Crafting the Mix. Oxford: Focal Press.
Zagorski-Thomas, S. (2014). The Musicology of Record Production. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.

Discography

Tracks mixed ‘Top Down’

‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17. Five weeks at #1 in the UK singles chart from late Decem-
ber 1994 into January 1995. Cat # LONCD 354.
‘Words’ by Boyzone. #1 in the UK singles chart October 1996. Cat # 575537–2.
‘Go on and Tell Him’ by Cliff Richard & The Temptations from #10 UK album ‘Soulicious’,
2011. Cat # 50999 0 88152 2 4.

Tracks mixed ‘Bottom Up’

‘You Spin Me Round’ by Dead or Alive. #1 in the UK singles chart March 1985. Cat # TX
4861
‘Hand on Your Heart’ by Kylie Minogue. #1 in the UK singles chart April 1989. Cat # PWCD 35
‘She Wants to Dance With Me’ by Rick Astley. #6 in the UK singles chart September 1988.
Cat # PD 42910.

76
5

Mixing in the Box

Justin Paterson

Introduction

In the context of this chapter, ‘mixing music’ should be understood as the

adjustment of some aspect of recorded audio to enhance the aesthetic of
the end-listener experience. Although such mediation has its roots in the
control of ‘live’ audio at the point of capture, in this text ‘mixing’ will only
refer to retrospective adjustments of multitrack audio sources.
Mixing is a crucial stage in the production of most popular music. In
the broadest sense, mixing has a number of functions: to balance the vari-
ous musical parts in terms of their volume and spectral content, to correct
technical anomalies that have crept into the recording process, and to offer
a creative platform upon which to enhance the basic tracks.1
For many years, mixing was executed using only physical hardware
equipment, gradually being augmented by software. However, in more
recent times computer technology has developed to the point where
high-quality audio playback and mediation can happen entirely within
a computer. Such an approach is often referred to as mixing ‘in the box’
(ITB). Signal path complicates this labeling, since an audio interface
might typically output multiple channels into a hardware mixing console
for summing, further processing and to act as effect sends to hardware
devices. For the purposes of this chapter, unless otherwise stated, it will
be assumed that the interface only outputs a digitally pre-summed analog
stereo audio signal. Also, whereas many of the issues discussed might
equally pertain to routing a digital audio workstation (DAW) through a
console, here they will be viewed only in their native desktop setting.
Traditionally, hardware-based mixing entailed running multitrack
audio through a mixing console that was typically able to apply insert
processing (from external or sometimes internal processors), equaliza-
tion, panning, gain adjustment and grouping of tracks together via buses.
It could also send signals to external processors and return their out-
put. These processors might typically offer time-based effects, dynamics
processing or more exotic forms of timbral manipulation. The console
would ultimately combine all the audio and via the console’s ‘mix bus’

77
78 Justin Paterson

offer a single stereo output. This might be captured2 to represent a fin-

ished mix of the music. Such consoles and processors could be analog,
digital or a hybrid of the two.
In order to realize the above process, the equipment needed to be large
enough to offer ‘finger-sized’ parametric control over it, as well as control
over associated feedback mechanisms such as the values of said parame-
ters, metering and displays. The physical environment needed to be large
enough to accommodate all of this equipment.3 The hardware equipment
would typically have sonic qualities that were characteristic of its circuit
design, manufacturer or even age. Thus, mixing in the hardware studio
required a quite specific workflow, one that involved physical movement
around the environment (with the corresponding change in perception of
the sound) to access the various controls, operations that involved both
hands, physical routing of signals, taking a visual overview of the settings
of multiple parameters, and functional workflow guided by an idiosyn-
cratic order of priorities that suited the specific situation.
In contrast, an ITB approach will be centered on one or more computer
displays, thus precipitating a static position in the room, hopefully in an
idealized acoustic position. All available parameters must be accessed via
the displays, so only a finite number can be seen at any one time, and fur-
ther, adjustment of them will be through an established human–computer
interface (HCI) device such as a mouse or trackpad, although a hardware
control surface might augment this. Operation of the former will be largely
one-handed.
This chapter will consider the ITB paradigm, and identify & discuss
a number of salient factors associated with its workflow. The treatment
will commence with the overlap of ITB and other creative processes, and
develop to consider the integration of editing. It will then discuss inter-
face implications and the influence of the toolset, and move on to consider
the clustering of mediators. Finally, it will close with some conjecture for
the future. It is intended not as a comprehensive treatment of the subject,
since there are many other areas specific to mixing ITB that are worthy of
investigation, but rather it might serve as an introduction to a number of
the key concepts.

Overlaps

While mixing per se has always been a profoundly creative act, mixing ITB
has amplified this potential and expanded it to overlap with other major
aspects of the creative process: composition, arrangement, pre-production,
editing, production and mastering. The DAW has presented the integrated
environment that allows these aspects to be incorporated (at least in part)
into the mixing stage, or indeed for the mix to start to coalesce before
its technical inception. Moorefield (2010) presented his argument for the
producer as composer, underpinned by considering both the bidirectional
interface of illusion and reality, as well as auteurism in music produc-
tion. While composition and arrangement could be guided from a DAW
Mixing in the Box 79

arrange page with the mix itself performed on hardware, it is the integra-
tion of mixing into the computer domain of ITB that facilitates hybrid-
ization of the creative process. “It’s not surprising that far from removing
‘sacred cow auteurs’, modern technology has simply shifted the metaphor
from exceptional accomplishment on paper by ‘composers’ to exceptional
accomplishment on hard disk by ‘producers’ ” (Moorefield, 2010: 111).
Although Moorefield refers to the producer in this context, mixing ITB
allows the metaphor to be extended from producer to mix engineer. Ever
more often, the two roles tend to overlap, and it is ITB that offers the
increasingly common scenario where the producer and the mix engineer
are one and the same. Assuming they are not, consider two workflows: the
producer might elect to print an effect that will then be subjected to the
mix process, or the mix engineer might apply an equivalent effect of his or
her own volition. While either mode is valid, the former could be said to
offer the ultimate auteurism to the producer, but of course it can also bring
its own disadvantages to bear. The production aesthetic becomes entirely
constrained by the subjectivity, stylistic preferences and limitations of the
individual; as such, auto-editorial control becomes an increasingly rele-
vant skill. The latter offers its own considerable advantages by bringing
the objectivity and specialist skills of a professional mix engineer to build
upon the creative foundation laid by a producer,4 but it is the mode of
producer/mixer working in the integrated environment of ITB that offers
a greater level of dynamism and the ultimate flexibility. For many (at all
levels), mixing ITB has also now facilitated a broadening from Moore-
field’s auteur to atelier—in which the neo-craftspeople of music produc-
tion might compete with the established orthodoxy or simply enthuse in
their newly found capabilities. The apogee of their aspiration is ever more
accessible.
Traditionally, the mix engineer would work with a number of relatively
fixed performances, optimizing these spatially, spectrally and dynami-
cally. Digital editing brought an enormous fourth dimension to mixing—
temporal adjustment. Preceding this and building on the earlier tape-based
work from musique concrète, John Cage (1952) introduced the notion of
(what is now often referred to as) hyper-editing5 in his piece, Williams
Mix, which featured hundreds of random tape edits of short fragments of
sound. Although aleatoric, in principle this deviation from the assumed
linearity of music in Western traditions was to have a profound impact on
future studio approaches. Such detailed editing might be termed ‘micro
editing’. On the other hand, ‘macro editing’ might refer to editing longer
sections of music. One example of this is how, in jazz, Rudy Van Gelder
pioneered tape splicing as a creative tool in the 1950s (Skea, 2015) to con-
catenate sections of ensemble performances into an idealized composite
rendition of a given tune.
The advent of non-linear recording and editing made both micro and
macro modes of adjustment more accessible. Micro editing came to be
used for phase-aligning multi-microphone recordings such as drum kits—
time-slipping the different channels in order that they most precisely
align with a key element such as the snare-drum-microphone recording.
80 Justin Paterson

This technique could greatly enhance the transients and low-frequency

coherence of the target channel when all were played back together while
also reducing comb filtering, and such maneuvers gained popularity both
at a production stage and also when mixing ITB. Originally, such adjust-
ments were done visually by aligning the transients of the waveform
visualizations6—a metaphor of the clapperboard in movie synchroni-
zation. Later, academic research produced algorithms to automate such
adjustments, for instance by Paterson (2007) in the time domain, and then
more effectively in the frequency domain by Clifford and Reiss (2010),
operating in real time. Sound Radix (2010) released the first commercial
plug-in to automate such actions, namely, ‘Auto-Align’.
Micro editing was first done by hand, but later evolved to offer audio
quantization. Such processes could be performed by a number of algo-
rithms that may or may not attempt to preserve transients or perform time
stretching. Both producers and mix engineers found that tightening perfor-
mances to align the transients (regardless of any alignment to a grid) could
have a profound influence on the mix. Such temporal adjustment could
impact on the timbre as mentioned above, but of course also offer pro-
found opportunities to adjust the groove of the music.7 Although subjec-
tive, groove is an enormous part of any contemporary track and is tightly
bound to both EQ and compression requirements, and options. Consider,
for example, adjusting the transients8 of both a kick drum and bass part
that are loose, but ‘feeling good’, as opposed to if the transients are tightly
aligned; the processing requirements could be quite different. Although
matters of groove should really be addressed at an earlier stage of work-
flow under direction of the producer, this type of operation might be best
executed holistically via ITB techniques by the producer-mixer, whichever
‘stage’ that happens to fall in.
Macro editing would traditionally have been associated with composi-
tion or arrangement, but there are many types of overlap. For example, if
the mix engineer had finalized a precisely honed section of a performance,
or even an entire chorus, it might be appropriate to copy it to other musi-
cally identical sections of the tune. Similarly, if at the arrangement stage it
was decided to print an echo effect in order to harmonize the pitches, then
that could be viewed as mixing. Mixing ITB has allowed (even encour-
aged) the overlap of many such aspects. DAW-based workflow has also led
pre-production to integrate with mixing ITB—it is common for musical
elements from a demo to be retained, and perhaps polished towards the
final mix.
Although the term was first coined when referring to radio (Orban,
1979), one technical aspect of the more recent Loudness War9 has been
the prevalence of software mastering tools, especially limiters, but also
entire mastering-orientated effect chains, all of which are regularly avail-
able when working ITB. Although there are many possible actors, from
artist to label, that might contribute to the drive towards louder tracks,
producers and mix engineers are sometimes tempted to push the overall
track level into a limiter on the mix bus. By such mechanisms, mastering
too has sometimes come to overlap with mixing ITB. Mastering engineer
Mixing in the Box 81

John Webber (2013) suggests that if the intention is ultimately to make the
master very loud, then the mix engineer preempts this by monitoring with
a limiter on the mix bus, but removing it before printing. Webber recom-
mends that the limiting be applied only at the end of the actual mastering.

The Interface

One problem that can be encountered when mixing ITB is the lack of pro-
prioceptive control. When using a traditional hardware interface, the user
can typically operate a fader or knob without looking at it, using a combi-
nation of proprioception and aural feedback to exert control. When using a
mouse, trackpad or touchscreen, parametric control is much less intuitive,
and it can be difficult to control the rate of parametric change or even
remember the correct mode of interaction with a given plug-in (e.g., rotary
versus linear action)—each of these presents a momentary impediment to
the primary aural intention. Further, typically only one parameter can be
changed at a time,10 which is often less than optimal when, for instance,
applying EQ. Although a dedicated hardware DAW-control-surface (or to
some extent, one of the increasingly popular tablet-based remote-control
apps, which are of course multi-touch) can mitigate such awkwardness,
such systems can introduce further complications such as orientation when
using a subset of soft controls that frequently change assignment.
Of DAWs, Mycroft et al. (2015: 687) found that

Under complex navigation, as often found in large multi-track audio mixes,

user orientation becomes a key issue and providing well-designed global views
of the data is an important criterion for successfully navigating the information
space,

and that

Reducing the need to navigate the interface to find visual information can sig-
nificantly improve the user’s abilities to hear concurrent audio changes to the
programme material.

This provides a logical rationale for the intuitive preference for multiple
displays when working ITB, and helpfully sets a path towards further con-
sideration of the influence of the interface upon workflow.
It is commonly understood that the multimodal layers of information
provided by the DAW extend the operator’s sonic perception beyond typ-
ical hardware metering (which is often purely gain based). This is exem-
plified, for example, by ITB representations of pitch and timing. There is,
however, a trade-off. Ihde (2013) discusses the broader phenomenology of
instrumentation, and while acknowledging that instruments might embody
human experience and therefore extend our senses, he emphasizes that
the use of such tools is non-neutral. The typical ITB interface attempts
to seduce the user with its feature-set and encourages certain behavior.
Of course, the hardware studio also does this, but its configuration and
82 Justin Paterson

functionality might be considered to be relatively standardized. Thus, the

ITB workflow (induced by a particular DAW) and its effect are likely to be
less neutral, and the tool exerts more influence over the musical artifact.
An example of this might be the spectrogram. Spectrograms can be incred-
ibly useful in providing additional information about a sound source, par-
ticularly when overlaid on an EQ curve, but these can once again influence
our listening and perception. The more assertive the graphical user inter-
faces (GUI), the more likely it is to provide a compelling influence on our
aural judgement.
Johnson (1999) affirmed that as the complexity of an interface design
increases, the user experience becomes more of the interface and less of its
effect. Of the user being able to view only a subset of the available param-
eters, Mycroft and Paterson (2011) stated:

There is a balance between a visualization that aids, reinforces and expands our
innate aural abilities, and one in which the instrumentation translates all other
aspects into visible results.

There might appear to be a useful trajectory forming for faster, more ergo-
nomic and intuitive mixing ITB in the future. The latest GUI additions
to Apple Logic Pro X11 appear to reflect such a conscious move towards
finger-sized simplicity, although more likely driven by the iPad ‘Logic

Figure 5.1  Top: the older ES2 Synthesizer from Apple Logic Pro; Bottom: the newer
Clav plug-in. Both images are to scale, revealing the difference in GUI style
Images captured from Apple Logic Pro X
Mixing in the Box 83

Remote’ app, or perhaps a future move towards a multi-touch desktop par-

adigm. As ever, the trade-off is against access to a sufficient number of
parameters and mitigating excessive navigation within the workspace.
Further, Tano et al. (2012) found that complex GUIs in creative-support
software tended to impede short-term memory (STM), and beyond the
3D-sketching paradigm that they were investigating, the findings might
be easily translated, especially when aural analysis is required simultane-
ously. Mixing ITB epitomizes a situation for susceptibility to such sensory
overload. Mycroft et al. (2013) found that the typical GUI of a DAW could
tend to overload the user and impede aural perception, and in particular,
they found that scrolling displays had a detrimental effect on critical lis-
tening reaction time, which along with STM is a key component in the
appraisal of a mix. Such phenomena will also translate to the use of hard-
ware control surfaces with soft controls, which might typically present
banks of channel strips that can be dynamically assigned to a subset of
the total number, and they also apply to the tablet-based control apps. It
is therefore possible that the ITB engineer’s efficiency might be compro-
mised by immersion in the desktop and its extensions—again, through
their experience of the interface. Of course, those mixing on a console
will still likely be using a GUI visualization of the musical arrangement
for orientation, but this will be largely confined to a single view and make
lesser demands on the retention of visual information from out-of-sight
windows. They also have the advantage of a constant panoramic view of
many parameters across the console and effects racks.
Out of sight is not necessarily a disadvantage in itself. As an example,
when applying EQ with a console, although not always the case, it is possi-
ble for the physical size of the fingers to obscure the view of the parametric
values. The user would therefore tend to rely upon aural feedback to judge
when the setting is appropriate and get used to working that way by default.
With a software interface, the temptation exists to look at numerical values
and make logic-based judgments on what is appropriate, and these can
conflict—consciously or subconsciously—with the aural feedback.
When the user is conscious of any such conflicts, the dichotomy has to
be considered, possibly with the aid of experimentation with parameter
values to ‘calibrate’ perception, or possibly making a decision on which
source of information to align to. Again, these processes can take imme-
diacy away from the job at hand. In the case of a subconscious conflict,
a danger exists (particularly for the inexperienced mixer) to choose a
reassuring number that aurally might be less than optimal. There is also a
tendency to obsess over tiny details and minuscule adjustments, perhaps
becoming preoccupied with numerical parameter readings or graphical
feedback. While precise control is necessary, responding to number ranges
close to or even below the resolution of perception will only consume time
without yielding significant sonic benefits.
‘Gear envy’ is common with regard to outboard hardware and is perhaps
particularly common towards those who own revered (and expensive) vin-
tage equipment. Despite this, hardware-based mix engineers tend to have
a tolerance and camaraderie around the use of a console, of whichever
84 Justin Paterson

model. Although, again speaking more generally, Ihde (2013: 40) states,
“it is also possible to ‘objectify’ the instrument such that it is understood to
be animated, to have its own ‘ghost’, and thus be reified”. While this obser-
vation could be applied to hardware, software users are often (fiercely)
patriotic and frequently relish championing their preferred system to users
of others. It is perhaps symptomatic of an established familiarity, yet fra-
gility of mastery over a given highly complex system, and the naiveté to
the feature set of other apparently arcane systems that give rise to this par-
tisanship. As such, with regard to mixing ITB, Ihde’s (2013) objectifica-
tion could be considered beyond reification and towards deification. While
console users frequently sit at different models in different studios (‘latest’
plug-ins aside), it is rare for the ITB disciple to change deity.

Tools

Acquisition of new software is part of daily life in the world of music pro-
duction and mixing. It is often exciting to first launch a new tool and explore
its capabilities, very likely before consulting its manual. The naiveté that
one might hold when first approaching such a tool can lead to immediate
gratification, and often with the application of the tool to a greater extreme
than the experienced user might employ. Thus, it is a raw creative process
free from preconceptions, quite akin to Hans-Georg Gadamer’s (2004)
being “lost in play”,12 which is an approach to recognition and interpre-
tation, as related to musical improvisation and beyond, first suggested by
Ramshaw (2005). Once experience with the tool accrues, it is likely that
preferred modes of working will emerge, very often resulting in a rather
more subtle application. While such a pattern equally applies to more gen-
eral software processes, it is the frequency with which this situation arises
in the mixing ITB environment (particularly through plug-ins) that causes
it to exert more impact on this workflow.
Once such a tool proliferates and it is heard in a number of differ-
ent contexts with different interpretations, that initial excitement might
typically wane. Should the tool have a powerful unique identity, it may
become meme, perhaps even to the point of cliché. A good example
of this was the definitive early ‘extreme’ application of Antares Auto-
Tune in Cher’s (1998) Believe. Such an application falls into the cate-
gory of creative abuse (Keep, 2005), and it is notable that the producers
Mark Taylor and Brian Rawling published an exposé that originally
attempted to hide their new tool (Sillitoe, 1999) in order to maintain
the mystique of their technique. The application of Auto-Tune (and its
equivalents) is currently all but ubiquitous in pop music, both as an
effect and when applied more transparently, perhaps as the tool was
originally intended. Perhaps the example of Auto-Tune is one that is
simultaneously both meme and cliché.
As in the above example, in the mode of ITB, innovation is often driven
by technology, in that periodically it is emergent technologies that facili-
tate new modes of mixing13 and corresponding new sounds. Further, these
Mixing in the Box 85

increments can be distilled into a smaller number of seminal moments or

indeed into a much greater number of smaller gradations, which may or
may not be harder to quantify. Regardless, acceptance of the technology
driver aligns with Rothwell’s (1994) ‘technology push’ model of linear
innovation, but this calls into question the ability of those who mix in the
box to genuinely innovate. It is common for early adopters of relevant
technologies to be the first to disseminate the application and therefore
to be associated with such innovation as practitioners. As such, there is a
case to accept this work as innovative simply because it lacks precedent.
Further, Von Hippel’s (1986) user-innovation model is accommodating of
such uptake and application, and thus qualifies the mixing ITB pioneer
as ‘innovator’. Further, in terms of cultural impact, would the layperson
attribute the sound of Auto-Tune to Cher or Antares?14
On the action of von Hippelian innovation reflexively influencing suc-
cessive iterations of ‘technology push’, Zagorski-Thomas (2014: 149)
remarks that “this, in turn, encourages further creative practice in the
domain of new product design, and the cycle continues”. The caveat, how-
ever, is context—here, related to genre. In a given genre, extant mixes
must be devoid of a particular sound or musical gesture, and then feature
it, and it is only the context which allows this transition that facilitates
innovation. Innovation might therefore be regarded as the application of
a technique that hitherto had not existed in that context, whether the seed
for this technique came from a novel artifact or simply a different context.
It is the context that is in fact the nexus of innovation when mixing ITB.
One issue worth discussion is that of the extent to which the tools are
engaged with when engineers work ITB.
As the tool-set becomes larger with the addition of DSP-based processes, a
larger number of parameters may be considered and refined. The new tools,
though shiny and exiting, may not be as sturdy as the old well-worn ones.
A combination of both old and new may be able to refine the job still further.
The skill of a modern producer to truly extend production values requires an
awareness of how to use all tools to produce best effect. The understanding
gleaned from being in a situation where a tool had to be mastered as it was the
only one in the box is an important asset when presented with a much wider
choice.
(Phillips, 2012)

The motivation to go beyond the intended functionality of a given piece of

equipment is guided by need, available options, experience and curiosity.
As Phillips points out, having only a single tool forces the user to develop
more flexibility with it. In the (analog) hardware era, a greater proportion
of users tended to covet their finite range of equipment, which naturally led
to experimentation, and even subversion, in an effort to gain the maximum
range of functionality. As a given user gained more equipment of increas-
ing complexity, they would typically have less time to engage with the full
range of the available feature sets. The user might not read the accompa-
nying manuals comprehensively, and overall they became less likely to
develop and extend lateral functionality.
86 Justin Paterson

Of course, the professional user might still find time for all of this, but
such a pattern might impact more on the amateur. Such a paradigm is not
just a function of the physicality of the hardware tool, since a parameter-light
vintage compressor will impact upon such situations in a different way
than would a complex Eventide harmonizer.
Perhaps it is the presence of the embedded software operating system
that makes the difference in this example. Such operating systems became
increasingly ubiquitous in the sampler/workstation era,15 vastly increas-
ing potential functionality, but also making its intended boundaries more
nebulous. The prevalence of user-installed software on a computer greatly
multiplied the complexities that were typically dealt with, multiplied again
by the transition from MIDI sequencer to DAW plus third-party systems,
and ever more time was spent reading manuals and solving problems just
to stay abreast of expected operation. As the palette of functionality con-
tinued to multiply exponentially, the depth of engagement with the tools
diminished further, a simple function of available time versus the need to
complete certain tasks. To some, this was amplified as both the intrinsic
and financial value of software decreased.
Regardless, the contemporary ITB engineer needs to deal with an
ever-larger toolset. While many neophiliacs might use this to pursue a
sonic avant-garde, pragmatism and focus must remain. As Skea (2015:
1) observed of Rudy Van Gelder, who worked long before the software
age, “the quality of Van Gelder’s output rests not necessarily on tech-
nical innovation but on determination to master successive waves of
state-of-the-art technology available to him and a legendary degree of
perfectionism”.
The use of preset parameter sets can make the array of tools much
more accessible, although often at the expense of precise function or
even appropriateness. Expert users might tend to shy away from presets
in equipment with which they are very comfortable, yet still employ them
in the interests of pragmatism with less familiar systems (Paterson, 2011).
The sheer number of such presets is increasingly difficult to navigate, yet
the range of their functionality can be increasingly flexible and exotic.
Manufacturers are starting to respond with more intelligent preset options
that simplify user engagement or standardize parameter sets across a
range of equipment. In part, this is an attempt to keep (less involved) users
abreast of the equipment, but it also introduces a danger of homogeneity
and ‘user irrelevance’ when working ITB. Naturally, there are still a great
many practitioners who actively pursue the novel, and there are ever-larger
opportunities to implement this, but as with Van Gelder, adaptability is the
key in the fast-paced fluxive arena.

mixMacros

In his quest to model compositional style by computer, David Cope

(2004) defines “signatures” as musical motifs that occur in more than
one work by a given composer. These are patterns that are “composites
Mixing in the Box 87

of melody, harmony, and rhythm” (Cope, 2004: 109), over a small num-
ber of beats. Such signatures provide a useful metaphor for many mix
processes, but especially when mixing ITB. In the world of hardware,
Michael Brauer’s trademarked ‘Brauerize’ multi-bus compression tech-
nique (Tingen, 2008) is a notable example. Brauer assigns groups of
instruments to one of a number of buses, each of which features a chain
of compressors and equalizers. The console faders function pre-compres-
sor chain, and everything is mixed through one of the chains. Although
the specific configurations can be variable depending on the situation,
the effect of this process produces a replicable sonic signature, derived
from what are effectively templates. Each of these might here be coined
in a more general sense as a ‘mixMacro’.
While Brauer’s large collection of hardware facilitates this, it is
beyond the reach of many. In the software world, however, not just exten-
sive compressor chains, but mixMacros of automation curves, complex
signal routing configurations, groove templates, all manner of plug-in
combinations, and more, are easily configurable in sets, and importantly
replicable via copy/paste or embedding in DAW template sessions. The
deployment of mixMacros allows the ITB engineer to form a custom tool
kit from which to draw, to form signatures of sonic mediation. Counter
to such convenience, such an approach can create an interesting ten-
sion for those who wish to avoid ‘preset’ sounds in the name of bespoke
treatment or integrity. The nub is perhaps dependent on whether a man-
ufacturer’s effect chain is used in the mixMacro, or whether the engineer
develops a wholly bespoke and considered one, perhaps even over many
years, as was the case with Brauer. Either way, if the pre-configured mix-
Macro is consciously allowed to influence the artistic direction, it gains a
degree of autonomy, something that Zagorski-Thomas (2014) describes
as its residing within the actor-network theory (ANT) of social theory.
The mixMacro is an actor concatenating with Ihde’s (2013) non-neutral
instruments.
So, in mixing ITB, mixMacros are autonomous objects that might
be assembled in a near-infinite order, in an actually infinite number of
contexts (tunes), yet each always contributes its own unique ‘signature’.
This allows an extension to a further metaphor from visual arts, specifi-
cally the actual implementation of these components could be regarded
as parallel to collage or montage. As Cutler (2004: 145) notes, “with so
many precedents in the world of the visual arts . . . it does seem surpris-
ing that it took so long for there to be similar developments in the world
of music”.
Conversely, Theberge (1997: 206) states, “the artistic practices of col-
lage, assemblage and montage used in popular music virtually destroy the
organic integrity of ‘the work’ ”. He is speaking specifically of songs,16
and clearly does not hold that aspect of them in high regard. Of course,
the semantics of “organic integrity” might be analyzed; surely, such a
statement must relate to the singer-songwriter or the paper-based com-
poser. It is interesting that in the intervening years since that was written,
both modes of creator have increasingly turned to computer assistance to
88 Justin Paterson

empower their craft. Crucially, however, if in the context of mixing ITB

integrity is placed within these metaphors from the outset,17 then they
cannot be viewed as invasive to a self-aware art form, especially when
composition might be in tandem with production and mixing ITB. The
mixMacros might be autonomous, they might be actors, but they are still
just tools.
Within a given DAW setup, it is relatively easy to perceive the full scope
and boundaries of the mediation in an ITB session. This is reified in the
saved file of that session, independently of the musical performances to
which it applies. The session could be thought of as containing an aggre-
gate of mixMacros, a die that could in theory be applied to different tunes
(time-dependent components such as automation, apart) to which custom-
izations were also added. This is analogous to successive tunes by a rock
band of fixed instrumentation running from tape through the same console
setup, but goes beyond simply replicating such a configuration in a DAW.
When required, custom session templates and cross-session importing of
settings facilitate this type of workflow when ITB. Of musical analysis,
Butterfield (2002: 327) discusses the concepts of ‘autonomy’ and ‘musical
objects’, and quoting McClary states, “Works rely for their meaning not
an abstract, formal or structural coherence, but on ‘codes of social signifi-
cation such as affective vocabularies and narrative schemata’ ” (McClary,
1993, as quoted in Butterfield 2002: 328).
This model could be translated either to individual mixMacros or indeed
aggregates, and perhaps if augmented could be used to formalize specific
approaches to ITB.

Groove
Sidechain
template

Insert Chain
DAW Track or sub-group Audio
inc. EQ

Group, multi-bus
or other routing

Sends, inc.
Crossfades
parallel FX

Figure 5.2  A schematic of a mixMacro for one or a group of tracks, illustrating some
of the factors that define its ‘signature’
Mixing in the Box 89

Recall

One of the biggest advantages to mixing ITB is total recall, and as such,
it deserves specific mention here. Opening a DAW session re-creates the
exact state that it was in when saved, whereas almost any analog part of
the signal path would have to be manually restored. Manual restoration
can virtually never be totally exact (to phase accuracy). More importantly,
it is the time taken to re-patch the hardware and set all the parameters that
makes the difference. Mix engineer Mark ‘Spike’ Stent attests:

In addition, producers, record companies, and artists are used now to the fact
that they can call you, even two months after your mix, and request a change,
and you just bring up the Session and five or 10 minutes later the change is
made. So mixing in the box is about time and being flexible, and of course it
also saves on the budget.
(Tingen, 2010)

However, there are also a number of reasons why mixing ITB can be more
time consuming than legacy hardware approaches, at least during the pri-
mary mix. When performing a given operation such as compression, the
mixer must decide whether to opt for a favorite plug-in or perhaps try out a
number of options based on prior recommendations or curiosity. Typically
the number of plug-ins available to the mixer will be an order of magnitude
greater than those in a hardware studio, and many will offer unusual modes
of operation that require considerable experimentation and/or reading of
the manual. As previously mentioned, it is easy to become fixated on micro
editing, not just of audio, but also automation and numerical parameters—
such operations often require highly repetitive and multi-stage workflow.
Despite this, an increasing number of professional mix engineers are turn-
ing towards an ITB approach in the interests of pragmatism.

Future

The current paradigm of mixing ITB is almost entirely based around the
metaphor of the traditional mixing console. New modes of mixing are now
being proposed. There are innovative designs, such as that of Cartwright
et al. (2014), which presented a 2D map around which a cursor could be
moved to influence the EQ and gain settings of every channel simultane-
ously on a holistic like or dislike basis. Automated mixing is being devel-
oped as alluded to in chapter 15 by Joshua Reiss, and this is likely to
realize many procedural tasks for the professional, and perhaps one day
precipitate user irrelevance with regards to technical operations, allowing
the user to focus on artistic and strategic choices.
Butterfield’s (2002) model is yet to be fully adapted and specified to
define specific ITB approaches, but perhaps if combined with Moylan’s
(2007) mix descriptors, then a taxonomy of such approaches could be
90 Justin Paterson

formed for the digital era. This could be augmented with Zagorski-Thomas’s
(2014) sociological approaches to align with the emergent musicology of
record production.
It is inevitable that further new and surprising tool sets will evolve and
apply artificial intelligence to many of the processes, extending Moore-
field’s (2010: xiii) “reality of illusion”. Perhaps the trajectory of illusion
can be illustrated even more clearly if parallels to other art forms are
made. Whereas once, audiences were amazed by ghostly projections of
actors onto pieces of glass on the theatre stage, we currently have mark-
erless facial motion-tracking (Faceshift, 2015) in cinema and games, and
this technology is still in its nascency. In this context, the physical charac-
teristics of an actor are now irrelevant, and further, the very performance
can be retrospectively adjusted. Intel RealSense (2015) is poised to bring
similar 3D sensing and beyond to the consumer, with many developers
yet to identify potential markets. It takes little imagination to translate
this into an equivalent form of sonic control, as is already being demon-
strated by the augmented performance capabilities of Zoundio (2015),
where lesser-skilled performers can deliver virtuosic performances, yet
still control the artistic direction. A Guitar Hero (Activision, 2016) met-
aphor for real instruments might yet become the norm in the future, with
long-honed traditional dexterity as obsolete as touch typing in the current
voice-recognition era.
In addition to new 2D mixing-interface paradigms, 3D gesture spe-
cifically for musical control is already at hand with the Leap Motion
controller and the Geco MIDI app, and the emergence of augmented
reality for the DAW is likely to extend this, making the action of
mixing ITB ever more intuitive and powerful. At the time of writ-
ing, Bullock (2015) is developing algorithms for two-handed sonic
manipulation in free space, supported by a 3D real-time visualiza-
tion. Such approaches might develop into a new mode of HCI when
mixing ITB and be applied in numerous contexts. Retina tracking and
augmented-reality workflows are also likely to emerge commercially
in the near future, and all the time, brainwave-based control systems
become ever more feasible.
As component modelling develops to the point where software is ubiq-
uitously accepted as being genuinely capable of accurate emulation of
consoles and hardware outboard, workflow will be the most compelling
demarcation, although this too will evolve in parallel to the growing demo-
graphic that feels independent of a console/outboard-based workflow.
Mixing ITB will become ever more powerful, autonomous and indepen-
dent of its legacy, allowing more of us to reach the current zenith more
rapidly. If reaching an ideal takes less time, then reaching a number of
equivalent and musically interesting ideals in the same time might become
possible. The emergence of new dynamic or interactive playback formats
that require multiple mixes will be empowered by this. This mode might
go beyond the zenith, and for a given tune offer multiple new points on the
celestial sphere of music.
Mixing in the Box 91

Notes
  1 It is particularly pertinent in a chapter on mixing in the box to emphasize that the content
of a ‘track’ might be either recorded audio or a MIDI sequence.
  2 For example, recorded to ½" magnetic tape, digital audio tape (DAT) or CD. Such mixes
were often recorded, and artists would decide which they preferred for the final release by
retrospectively listening to each.
  3 This text will not concern itself with room acoustics, which of course influence the size
and shape of any mixing environment.
  4 Who will generally create a rough mix that includes printed effects for guidance.
  5 A term derived from intensive MIDI editing in the 1990s, employed by artists such as
Aphex Twin.
  6 Sometimes, this alignment was done with a bespoke hand clap before the music com-
menced. It is perhaps interesting to speculate that if the drummer were to clap in a natu-
ral position, one foot above the snare, then the synchronization would be susceptible to
approximately 2 ms error; 1 ms farther from the (assumed close) snare drum microphone
and 1 ms closer to the overhead microphones.
  7 Of course, this is actually the primary function of quantization.
  8 For instance, with compression attack and hi-mid EQ.
  9 As discussed, for instance by Vickers (2010).
10 Although this is currently being challenged by emergent multi-touch systems such as the
Slate Raven (Slate Pro Audio, n.d.).
11 Logic Pro has long sported screen-space efficient GUIs that packed many small fields into
a limited area, e.g., the ES2 synthesizer.
12 First published in 1960.
13 As well as, of course, the greater field of music production.
14 Cher, most likely, since they will not have heard of a niche company. Perhaps the scholar
might prefer that the debate on such a musical gesture be between Homer Dudley and
Sparky the Magic Piano.
15 Which commenced with the launch of the Fairlight CMI in 1979.
16 It would be unfair to presume his holding any objection to mixing as collage, but it serves
as a useful foil for this metaphor.
17 It must be so, given that the DAW tool set is ubiquitous across genres.

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6

Audio Editing In/and Mixing

Alastair Sims with Jay Hodgson

Audio editing has played an important role in record production since razor
blade first touched tape, as it were. That said, modern computer-based modal-
ities comprise an entirely new and crucial genus of that aesthetic species. So
crucial has this new genus become to record production in general, in fact, that
few working recordists would blink if I suggested to them that modern record
production is defined or characterized almost entirely by it. Indeed, production
styles are no longer marked by the amount of audio editing they encompass, as
they once were, simply because every style of professional music production
now entails the same high degree of editing. Those who know what to listen
for can hear audio editing permeate every musical nook-and-cranny of mod-
ern record production, regardless of genre. And yet, despite the tremendous
growth in research on record production in the last few decades, very little
research focuses directly on this crucial new musical competency.
What follows is meant to address two of the lacunae I identify above. It
provides a broad description of audio editing as a musical competency in
and of itself, and it elucidates its position within—and with regards to—
modern record production at large. An overview of common editing techniques
is then provided, and musical examples supplement the discussion to help
readers hear those techniques in action. These audio examples can be down-
loaded at http://ww.hepworth-hodgson.com, and it is strongly recommended
that readers audition each example precisely where indicated in the text.
The manner of explanation modeled below would best be considered
a methodological hybrid, mixing ethnographic interview techniques with
traditional musicological analysis. It is my firm contention that, to truly
understand modern professional production practices, a methodological
broadening is required that allows practitioners themselves to speak in
academic contexts. And I believe the hybrid below models one among
many possible such ‘broadenings’. I chose a series of questions, in a par-
ticular sequence that I felt addressed the lacunae comprising the primary
subject of this chapter. And I sought the expertise of Alastair Sims, one
of Canada’s most successful audio editing engineers currently at work,
to provide those answers.1 Sims and I spoke for a few hours, a transcript
of our conversation was made and edited, and then Sims was given the
transcript to approve and edit further however he saw fit. I identified areas

94
Audio Editing In/and Mixing 95

where I thought listening examples might help concretize some of the con-
cepts and techniques Sims discussed, and Sims provided them in turn. The
Download and Listen tracks are listed later in the chapter and are available
on www.routledge.com/9781138218734 and www.hodgsonhepworth.com.
It is ultimately our hope that, in doing all this, we have provided analysts
with a useful toolbox that will help them hear audio editing permeate the
modern recorded soundscape completely. In turn, the musical role that
audio editing plays in modern record production should clearly emerge to
the analytic fore.

Editing In/and Record Production

Digital editing is a relatively new—and, thus, relatively

unknown—process. How would you define what you do, in
the broadest possible sense?
The easiest way to explain what I do is to say that I make musicians sound
‘right’ for the track. In other words, I make recorded material sound ‘on time’
and ‘in tune’. For instance, one of the simplest types of editing, if a musician
flubbed a note, I might replace it with a note from a different take, or with a
note from later within the same take, so the performance sounds ‘right’. The
three main aspects of editing are timing (rhythm), tuning (pitch) and timbre.

When you’re handed a session file from the control room,

what judgment calls do the producer(s) and engineer(s)
assume you will make without needing to tell you? Are you
usually given explicit instructions each time you’re given a
file, or are there certain tasks that one can assume the audio
editor should do regardless of project particulars?
When I’m working with a producer, at the beginning of the project we’ll dis-
cuss the editing needs for the whole project in general terms. For instance,
whether I’ll be simply cleaning the tracks or completely quantizing and tuning
the song(s). After this point, I generally know what needs to happen to every
file I’m given. I’ll get a session file which is already comped, so it’s just one
‘playlist’ I’m working on (‘playlist’ is the name given to a single composite
track in Pro Tools). At this point, my options are limited anyway, so there’s
really no need to give me special instructions. I’m not expected to choose dif-
ferent takes, to create a comped track, for instance. It’s more about cleaning up
a performance or track. For example, a take may have the attitude or feel that
the producer and band want to capture, but the musician played out of time and
stomped their foot loudly during the recording. Happy with the performance,
keeping in mind that they know what I can ‘fix’ in editing, the producer will
then send the track to me. They know that when they get the track back, the
performance will sound ‘tighter’ and the undesirable sounds will be gone.
96 Alastair Sims with Jay Hodgson

How long does editing usually take?

That depends on the instructions I receive at the beginning of the project,
and of course on the material I’m given. If the production only requires me
to clean up noise and fix blatant mistakes, for example, one bad drum fill
in a song, it might only take thirty minutes for an entire song. However, if
the producer wants a fully quantized and tuned performance, it can take
substantially longer. Completely quantizing an easy guitar part—perhaps a
guitar strumming whole notes, for example—I can be done in about fifteen
to thirty minutes. Eighth-note or sixteenth-note ‘power chord’ guitar or
bass parts (think punk rock) can take a lot longer to edit, upwards of a day
to fully quantize. Drums generally take half of a day to a full day if there
are some difficult edits to make.

Is it safe to say that nearly every Top 40 song these

days is subject to editing in some form or another?
Yes, there is almost guaranteed to be editing on all recordings at some level.
Famous musicians can generally perform quite well—they’re famous for
a reason. But there will still be some editing on their songs, even with
virtuoso musicians. Almost every track, on every record, has some editing,
whether it be as small as comping together takes or cleaning noise or as
large as quantizing and tuning an entire song. This may sound jaded, but
that’s just the nature of the beast nowadays.

How did you first discover audio editing?

I was referred to an editing position in a production team by a former
employer and mentor, so I discovered the role while receiving ‘job skills
training’, as it were. Normally, the career path for someone who does edit-
ing has a standard route, very similar to other positions in the recording
industry (assistant engineer, studio intern). You’re hired on as an unpaid
assistant, similar to an intern. The people employing you expect you to
show up, say nothing and don’t mess anything up. It may sound harsh, but
they need to see if they can trust you before they give you any responsi-
bility. They want to know that you won’t say stupid things around clients
or share sensitive information, because as an editor you will be listening
to and possibly fixing very intimate aspects of a recording. Then you get
given a task and, if you do a good job, you get given another, and so on,
until you are an indispensable member of the production team.
When I started working with Gavin Brown in Toronto, there were two
other editors already working there. He, the engineer and the other two
editors made it clear that they did not want any input from me. They just
wanted me to sit and observe their work, to learn what they do and how
they do it. The first assignment they gave me was editing bass for a song-
writing demo from Gavin [Brown]. I don’t know if it ever got sent to the
artist, but it was essentially a test to see if I could run Pro Tools and do
some basic editing in the DAW. Looking back, if I did that first task now
Audio Editing In/and Mixing 97

it would only take me about thirty minutes to edit. But back then it took
me about three days! I was nervous and so I questioned everything I did.
I’d think I was finished, and the other editors would come and listen to my
work, and find more and more mistakes. It was brutal!

What types of technical concerns do editing engineers

worry about?
One of the most important aspects in editing is to be able to find the exact
beginning of a sound. That might sound simple, but it’s very much an art
in and of itself. With guitar, for example, the beginning of a guitar tone
is not necessarily when the pick first scrapes the strings on a guitar, even
though you’d intuitively think it was. For the performer, yes, that is where
the note begins. But for the editing engineer, we are concerned with where
the tone, and pitch, and sustain information builds to a sufficient point that
it ‘sounds like’ a note at mix level. So you have to be able to hear like an
editing engineer before you can even begin to edit. Finding the beginning
of notes, and knowing how to ‘smooth’ your edits so they aren’t audible,
correcting pitch are the main technical concerns. Another facet of being an
editor that never really gets discussed is that you are generally considered
the computer guy. Whether that means you are also the Pro Tools op (oper-
ator) for the session or just the guy that they come to when the session
keeps crashing or won’t allow a certain function to operate properly, you’ll
be the guy they’ll call. So having in-depth knowledge of the software and
programs being used as well as of computers themselves is invaluable.

Can you elaborate a bit? Maybe provide some concrete

examples of types of edits you might make on a track?
Let’s focus on timing first, taking a musical performance and adjusting the
rhythm of individual notes or longer passages (see Figure 6.1). If a musician
played a note before the beat, and I move it back onto the beat, there will be

Figure 6.1  Quantizing audio, 1

Figure 6.2  Quantizing audio, 2

Figure 6.3  Quantizing audio, 3

Figure 6.4  Quantizing audio, 4

Audio Editing In/and Mixing 99

silence left over between where the cut was made and where the note was
moved to (see Figure 6.2), as well as clicks at the cut points (see Figure 6.3).
Normally, when working in a clip/region-based DAW, you pull the
beginning of the second clip back to meet the end of the first (see Fig-
ure 6.4), and place a crossfade there, roughly five to eight milliseconds’

Figure 6.5  Quantizing audio, 5

Figure 6.6  Quantizing audio, 6

Figure 6.7  Quantizing audio, 7

100 Alastair Sims with Jay Hodgson

Figure 6.8  Quantizing audio, 8

duration, or more, as a starting point (see Figures 6.5 and 6.6). The shorter
the crossfade the better, as a general rule. Occasionally, this process will
cause some audio to repeat itself (see Figure 6.7) which can be addressed
by adjusting the length of the crossfade (see Figure 6.8). Sometimes,
though, the fade needs to happen earlier into the note.
Failing these options, you might see if the same note is played some-
where else in the song, and use it in place of the problem note. You might
also use time compression or expansion to smooth edits, digitally length-
ening a note to fill the gap. You might say there are three primary ways to
approach editing timing. Each one of these approaches—(i) using fades,
(ii) replacing notes and (iii) time compression and expansion—are essen-
tial techniques or tools for us and can be applied whether you are quantiz-
ing to a grid or nudging notes manually.
Pitch correction and tuning is another aspect of editing, usually a little
more automated than timing. You would generally use a plug-in (Melodyne,
Auto-Tune) to achieve the edited result. Just like timing, pitch correction
can be applied to the whole track or simply a few off notes depending on
the desired aesthetic for the song.

Musicians are sometimes very suspicious of editing,

especially if they have very little experience with modern
recording workflows. How do you address such concerns?
I’ve never encountered someone who said, “No! You can’t auto-tune me!”
The majority of people that I work with, whether professional or amateurs,
tend to say, “Oh, you can do that? That’s awesome! That saves time . . . That
makes me sound better . . .”
Why do practice rooms exist on music campuses? Why do musicians
spend hours and hours practicing? It’s because they want to be perfect, or
as close to perfect as they can get, when they perform. Drummers practice
to a metronome, to learn to play on time. String players tune their instru-
ments, and practice their intonation, for example, so that they sound per-
fectly in tune, and they spend lifetimes perfecting their tone. So why would
anyone get frustrated when I add one more small layer of production to
help them achieve the vision of their sound? I edit with the aesthetic aims
Audio Editing In/and Mixing 101

of the recording at large in mind, after all. It’s not like I change pitches
around on performers to what I like instead, or needlessly quantize an
already amazing piece of music or take of a song. Editing engineers do
their very best to ‘serve the performance’, the same way producers do their
very best to ‘serve the song’.

In the past, musicians were required to record in extended

takes with minor overdubs. How has editing changed this,
in your experience?
The process of recording is still very much like this. The majority of material
is captured in long takes, with small overdubs throughout if needed. The dif-
ference is that musicians don’t need to feel pressure from this anymore. Faced
with a difficult passage or solo that they can’t get in one take, there are many
ways to capture it. Be it using multiple takes and comping them together, or
punching in a number of times, or maybe even punching in every single note
or chord. It doesn’t matter now how you do it now, because with the use of
editing in DAWs, it has not only made it fast and easy but sound transparent.

What would you say is the main incentive for hiring an

editing engineer for a recording session?
There are many, but two come immediately to mind. The main reason to hire
an editor has to do with budgetary concerns. A band can rent out a studio for
two months and get near-perfect takes through grueling punching and repe-
tition, or they can spend two weeks recording, get the tracks 85% ‘correct’,
and hire someone to edit the remaining 15%. The latter is a far more efficient
process, compared to the way recording sessions were done before. And it’s
only getting more efficient. During the early days of editing and comping,
you would record all of your material and then spend a couple of weeks edit-
ing it into shape after. Now we do editing and tracking at more or less the
same time. You can have entirely finished songs ready to be mixed now, by
the time you’ve torn down and are leaving the studio. That said, though, you
can’t rely on editing as a crutch during tracking. What you record has to be
as good as possible, and as close to the final product as you can get without
editing, so artist morale stays high and ideas keep flowing in sessions.
Editors also fulfill an aesthetic function, however. Popular music now has
a particular sound to it that comes from electronic music (drum machines,
sequencers), and people expect records to sound that way (whether they real-
ize it or not). Katy Perry, for instance, would not benefit from a ‘live off
the floor’ early-1970s Black Sabbath production mentality, right? In fact, a
majority of listeners likely interpret that sort of editing (or lack thereof) as
‘bad’ production. So editing is really a production tool now, used to achieve
that ‘shiny pop perfection’ sound that people come to expect from radio hits.

How important is the equipment you use for editing?

I have a hierarchy that I visualize when trying to explain how important certain
aspects are to the recording process, and it moves from source to destination.
102 Alastair Sims with Jay Hodgson

Song > Player > Instrument > Microphone > Equipment >
Processing (Editing)
Figure 6.9  Order of importance

Gear is important. But it is by no means top of my list. Everything starts

with the song, the player and the instruments you record. If any one step in
the chain is faulty, it cannot be fixed by the next tool in the chain. A great
song, or an amazing player, can make up for a bad microphone, for exam-
ple, but a bad song cannot be fixed by a good microphone or preamp or
editing for that matter. So you have to follow the chain, and get each step
‘right’ before moving on to the next one.

You have worked with some of the most successful

recording acts in the world. What have you learned from
working with them?
Most of the successful people I work with are uncompromising about
quality. This suits me just fine because, in editing, the point is to make
everything sound ‘perfect’. So I learned from those artists to never com-
promise. Ask yourself, “Is it perfect?” If it isn’t, you have to make it
perfect. And you should have this attitude at every stage of production,
even when you’re recording a demo. In fact, I once sent a demo to some-
one who was financing a project to show them the progress, and while it
was still very much a songwriting demo, they sent it around to interested
management, promoters, record labels and so on. So I was happy that
I’d done my very best to make it sound as good as possible at that early
stage in the process. Not focusing on the fact it was a demo, simply
focusing on making the best I could regardless if it was the first time it
was captured.
When editing, you can crossfade, find a note elsewhere in the song
and replace it. You can use time compression and expansion and pitch-
correction software. You still even have the option to re-record the part!
You should be able to find a way to make a recording ‘right’, it may just
take a little longer than you hope, but punching in every single chord can
sound great, and is done surprisingly often. You can apply this ethos to
songwriting, engineering . . . anything. If you’re not getting the sound you
want, then you change it. It’s that simple.

You mentioned earlier that the main aspects of editing are

timing, tuning but also timbre. Can you explain this?
The timbre or tone aspect of editing is an interesting one; this is where
you start adding to the attitude and performance more. Taking part of the
performance that has more attitude or more of a quality that you want
and moving it to other parts of the song. For example in a guitar take, the
Audio Editing In/and Mixing 103

first chorus, the guitar player was really laying into the guitar, therefore
hitting the amp harder giving a more distorted, edgy sound. In the second
chorus, though, he was relaxing and playing smoother, perhaps improving
the timing and tuning of the chorus but taking away the energy. Now take
the edited (timed and tuned) first chorus and paste it to the other choruses
so they maintain the tone and energy of the first and you’ve just edited the
tone or timbre of a track.

Editing In/and Mixing

Is editing now a required tool in the modern mix engineer’s

arsenal? Do mix engineers need to know how to ‘tune’ and
‘time’ tracks the same way tracking engineers know how to
use, say, a compressor?
I would say yes, editing is definitely a required tool in the modern mix
engineer’s arsenal, especially now that mixing is so often done via the
Internet. You can get sent a session file from across the world, and anything
could be wrong with it. And you need to send back something that is great.
So, as a mixer, you’re the last line of defense before the talent and audience
hears the track; it’s on you to make it right. If there’s a fill that’s out of time,
or one word with tuning issues on it, then you need to fix it. There are cer-
tainly times when you’re told that they have edited everything, and it is as
good as they can get it. Being able to take it that much further if there are
still tuning issues or timing issues is incredibly important. So editing can
certainly impact and be a part of mixing. It doesn’t matter if you, as the
mixer, are going back and tuning and timing yourself, or hiring an assistant
to help you with the editing. As long as the impact of editing on a finished
mix is known, that’s the most important part.
This all said, I wouldn’t say that editing is expected in mixing. The
mixer’s job is to balance instruments and tracks in a song as well as to
shape the overall tone to fit the final vision of the project. This makes
them one of the last stages of ‘quality control’, so it does often happen
that mistakes are found and need to be rectified by the mixer. Often the
new balance they are creating will reveal or boost a flaw in the track,
which is there because the engineer/producer/artist was working in a
poor listening environment.

How does editing ramify later, during mixing?

Some things are hard to mix when they’re unedited. When you have a bass
and kick drum that don’t line up, it can be a hassle to get them to work
together in a way that is usable at mix level. Pulling them together, ‘timing’
them, so they align to grid, makes my job way easier when I’m mixing,
because doing this makes the track sound ‘tighter’ and adds more punch to
the low end in general.
104 Alastair Sims with Jay Hodgson

Do you find that editing is such an integral and expected

part of tracking now that, even before you get session files
to mix, the material is already mostly edited?
The way much of music is written and performed now via samplers,
sequencers, MIDI and loops means that a lot of mix elements are
already ‘edited’ even before they’re flown into the arrange window.
You shape the tone and quantize a MIDI part, and it’s done. What this
means, though, is that when you don’t have something that’s edited like
that MIDI part—like a live vocal or guitar—it could sound ‘off ’ next
to that MIDI track, and you’ll need to address that with the kind of
editing I do. One of the best places to hear this is on a metal/hardcore
guitar track. When the notes end is almost as important as when the
note starts in this genre, so having a very edited and clean guitar track
it vital. (‘Physical Education’ by Animals as Leaders or ‘Lost in the
Static’ by After the Burial) You get a really rhythmic sound on those
tracks, more than you do with rhythm guitars in a lot of other genres.
And, thanks to editing, those guitar parts are almost robotically pre-
cise! This is a crucial element of the genre, in fact. If you don’t edit the
guitar parts, the track sounds ‘wrong’ to interested listeners. And you
just wouldn’t have been able to achieve this level of precision in mixing
before. You would have had to play around with gates, and expanders,
and do a lot of punching in. Humans just can’t achieve this level of
precision on their own. So, yeah, editing changes not only how tracking
happens but also how songwriting, production and mixing happens,
insofar as you can conceive and achieve a wide variety of sounds that
you couldn’t before digital editing became commonplace.

So is editing post-production or production, then?

Editing was first viewed as a post-production tool, separate from all
other processes. Now editing has expanded into every part of the pro-
duction process. It can be used as a tool that works in the background,
which you don’t even hear but you still know is there. Like compres-
sors which used to be used to manage only level and dynamic con-
tour, now they’re used to produce truly creative sounds, like the famous
drum sound in ‘When the Levee Breaks’ by Led Zeppelin or side-chain
pumping you hear in electronic music. The same transition has been
(and is) happening with editing—take Auto-Tune, for example. Engi-
neers used to use Auto-Tune primarily to fix a note or two when it was
first available. Then Cher came along, with her song ‘Believe’, and all
of a sudden Auto-Tune becomes a texture in and of itself. The later
an example of editing playing a role is you’d have to call ‘production’
rather than ‘post-production’.
Audio Editing In/and Mixing 105

How do you know how much you’re expected to edit,

then, when you’ve only been hired to mix a track? That is,
how much editing is tacitly expected when handed the mix
brief?
I would say the best way to know what kind of editing is required would be
listening to the reference tracks sent to you by the artist or producer. They
have a vision in mind and will usually talk about other songs or bands
they’re looking to sound like. Listening to those tracks you should be able
to get an idea for what you’ll need to do to achieve that sound. The tough
part is when they have a very different productions style (i.e., no editing
and very loose) from the reference tracks they’ve passed along. When this
happens, you have to figure out if the budget as well as the schedule will
allow for editing. If they sent me a session file, and a few hundred dollars,
and said, “Mix it”, then I might fix one or two pitches on the vocals, or
move a drum fill around, but that’s about it. If there’s more money in the
budget, as well as time in the schedule, then I would sit down and edit the
drums, put in drum samples, edit the bass and guitars, tune the vocals, time
the vocals, and then start mixing. All the editing would be done before
mixing.

Hearing Audio Editing

Do you hear editing when you listen to a track?

Yes, of course.

Do you hear it because the editing introduces certain

‘telltale’ sonic artifacts?
For the most part, yes. Vocals are the main element of a pop song, so they
are very forward in the mix and it gives you the chance to hear any editing
on them fairly well. So hearing tuning or timing on lead vocals is pretty
common. Some things you might hear aside from extreme tuning (think
T-Pain or Cher) on vocals are additional overtones or stuttering of conso-
nance if a vocal track is timed using certain digital tools like ElasticAudio
in Pro Tools, FlexTime in Logic or the audio plug-in Vocalign. This can
have a huge impact on the vocal performance and tone, especially when
fully timing, or quantizing, the vocals. If you take the time to chop and
move a vocal part around by hand and re-fade the tracks, however, it can
be hard to hear what I’m talking about. One method is not better than the
other, you just get different results and they require a different amount of
time and effort.
 106 Alastair Sims with Jay Hodgson

Can you describe some more of these artifacts? For

example, I know that if the attack time setting on your
auto-tuner is dialed into a setting that’s too fast for the part,
and the vocalist has a pronounced vibrato, the result will be
what I can only describe as a robotic ‘warbling’.
You can get ‘the warble’ when your auto-tuner snaps between two different
notes very rapidly, for sure. The other thing you get with tuning is, if you tune
the note too far from its original pitch, the track will start to sound weird and
move out of what sounds like a normal singing range. The singer will either
sound like a chipmunk or like they are trying too hard to sound ‘manly’.
On the timing side of things, you’d probably have the easiest time hear-
ing artifacts from the Vocalign plug-in. That processor aligns two different
takes, very useful when you want to have doubled vocals
that are very tight. When you have hard consonants
Download and Listen like kuh or guh, though they are lower in vol-
to tracks 6.5, 6.6, and 6.7 ume compared to many of the other elements in
speech and singing, they appear as quite sharp
transients in the waveform. Sometimes Vocalign
will misinterpret the sonic nature of those transients and
will double or triple them, resulting in an obvious ‘flamming’ in the vocals.

AUDIO EXAMPLES Vocalign stutter

Similarly, in Pro Tools, you might use something like ElasticAudio or

X-Form to time a vocal track. In Logic, you’d probably use the FlexTime
algorithm. What you get from these editing tools, when they’re pushed,
is a weird ‘carrier’ frequency underneath the recorded parts. There’s
a strange midrange frequency, or tone, that they add to everything. It
makes singers sound like a duck or a frog, I’d say; they add a distinct
resonance to vocals that wasn’t there before, and it changes the way
Audio Editing In/and Mixing 107

those vocals sound. This artifact arises

most obviously when the edited track Download and Listen
is stretched to extremes and there’s not to tracks 6.1 and 6.2
enough recorded audio to support a time
stretch. When you’re stretching audio to
the point that you’re exceeding the limits
of what was actually recorded, the plug-
ins need to add in frequencies or repeat
audio to ‘fill-in’ the silences that result, Download and Listen
and you get that ‘ducky’ or ‘froggy’ res- to tracks 6.3 and 6.4
onant sound.

Have you heard ‘ducky’ or ‘froggy’ vocals on

commercial releases?
Yes, definitely. Most Top 40 tracks are obviously edited nowadays—editing
isn’t something that engineers feel they need to shamefully conceal any-
more—so you’re going to hear evidence of editing everywhere.
You can hear some X-Form-like processing in the song ‘The Heart
Wants What It Wants’ by Selena Gomez. Right off the top you can hear it
on the lead vocal.

We’ve covered the sound of editing on vocal parts. Can you

describe similar ‘telltale’ sounds of editing that you might
hear on other instruments?
On all the other instruments, the most typical way to edit is using the
‘chopping and fading’ method, that is, by cutting audio, fading each cut
and aligning them all to grid or some broader timing scheme. You can
also use ElasticAudio and FlexTime on those instruments, if you want, but
I would generally not advise it, because the chopping and fading method is
more transparent. You don’t get the same sort of artifacting I just told you
about when you chop and fade. Though again, it is more time consuming.
In terms of artifacts from the chop and fade method, they will vary, but
always be based around the fade and the phase relationship of the two clips
or regions being faded together. There are three ways to ‘hear the fade’,
as it were.

1. A large gap that has been smoothed

2. An in or out of phase fade
3. A shortened sustain

The first, a filled gap in the audio, is the most common. When a piece
of audio is played out of time, cutting at the beginning of the note or the
transient of a hit and quantizing those pieces of audio is the most common
practice. As a consequence of the quantization process, though, two pieces
of audio might be moved apart from one another, leading to a gap in the
audio. The simplest way to remedy this gap is to pull back the beginning
of the second note or hit until the gap is filled. Because you are pulling out
 108 Alastair Sims with Jay Hodgson

the beginning of the second note, you will be repeating a section that fills
the gap twice. Once in the first note and again in the part of the second clip
used to fill the gap. This will cause an audible effect of
doubling or stuttering that part of the audio file.
Download and Listen
To solve this repeat artifact, you simply extend
to tracks 6.18, 6.19
and 6.20
the length of the fade back into the first note
(extending it towards the second note would
mean the transient or beginning of the second note
would be repeated, which only increases how audible the edit
is), blending the two notes together making it one smooth, longer note.

AUDIO EXAMPLES Electric guitar stutter, no fades

AUDIO EXAMPLES Electric guitar stutter, filled and crossfaded with fades adjusted
Audio Editing In/and Mixing 109

The second type of ‘fade artifact’ you can hear is a fade that is either
in phase or out of phase. Imagine again two notes that have been cut
and quantized and they move very little or exactly the length of half
or one of the wavelengths of the note being played. In the instance that
the two are moved only a very small amount when you make a fade,
particularly a longer fade, you will hear comb filtering. The best way
to avoid comb filtering is by making the fade as short as possible. If
the audio clips are moved over by either one full wavelength or half a
wavelength of the note played, you will have a fade that is either per-
fectly in phase (one wavelength), or out of phase (half a wavelength).
This will lead to a quick volume increase in the case of in-phase audio
or a volume decrease in the case of out-of-phase audio. To avoid these
changes in volume, you need to change the type of fade you’re using.
There are two basic shapes of fades, equal gain and equal
power. Equal gain is a linear fade, while equal
power is logarithmic. To avoid a volume
increase in the case of in-phase audio, you Download and Listen
would use an equal gain fade, and to avoid to tracks 6.8 through 6.14
a volume decrease you would use an equal
power fade. While the chances are small that
the two audio files will phase match perfectly in an
additive or subtractive way, it will happen from time to time. I suggest
starting always with an equal power fade that is short, around five to ten
milliseconds, and changing them as needed.

AUDIO EXAMPLES Out of phase, equal power

AUDIO EXAMPLES Out of phase, equal gain

AUDIO EXAMPLES In phase, equal power

AUDIO EXAMPLES In phase, equal gain

Audio Editing In/and Mixing 111

AUDIO EXAMPLES Bass, original

The third type of ‘fade artifact’ is when the sustain of a note is shortened
because you’ve moved two notes closer together. Imagine a piano with the
sustain pedal held down, allowing for notes to ring out under one another. If we
were to then cut up passages played on this piano and move them closer together
then fade them, you would have a quick decrease in
volume between the sustain of the first note to
Download and Listen
the now-moved forward second note, which has
to tracks 6.15, 6.16
a fixed amount of sustain bleeding over from and 6.17
the first note. This causes an interesting effect
on the source being edited; it makes for a disjointed
and jumpy sound. To fix this type of edit you adjust the length
of fade, making the fade longer, even to the point of it being most of the length
of the first note—the jump between different sustain levels is smoothed out
across the fade, making for a natural-sounding note transition.

AUDIO EXAMPLES Bass, out of phase, equal power

AUDIO EXAMPLES Acoustic, original

AUDIO EXAMPLES Acoustic, lumpy

AUDIO EXAMPLES Acoustic, edited and smoothed

Audio Editing In/and Mixing 113

While editing, these three types of fade happen all over the place and all
together. You might have an out-of-phase fade that has been pushed closer
together, so you’re also hearing a jump in sustain volume. This is just what
happens. You have to spend time adjusting the size, shape and location of
the fade. If that doesn’t work, find the note later in the take; if the note is
only played once, you can try adjusting the length of the note using time
expansion or compression tools, or if the problem is really that bad even
record another pass of the song.

What are some terms that editing engineers use?

Are there any that you hear a lot?
The hard thing with [terminology] when describing music is that the words
are descriptive, not objective, similar to trying to describe the taste of
food. You might say something like “That sounds froggy” or “That sounds
ducky” because of certain types of vocal editing. Or perhaps when you get
those short fades and sustains getting cut off, like I just described, you’d
say “It sounds choppy” or “It sounds lumpy”. These are terms I use often
when describing editing, because that’s what they sound like to me. A few
other terms I use frequently and throughout this article are tuning (using
pitch corrections), timing (quantizing audio), chopping or cutting (the act
of separating the notes in a performance to be quantized), and a big one
I didn’t mention are ‘triggers’. Triggers are used in drum editing; think
of them as placeholders for where the exact beginning of the drum hit is.
I use these to help time the drums properly, as well as properly put in drum
samples for mixing.

What do you think the future holds for audio editing?

Editing has been commonplace in music production for years, and has
started to be used even artistically within music now. I see editing becom-
ing even more integrated into the production workflow. It is used for its
unique and different sounds, to save more time and money in the studio,
and to help artists further their craft and allow them to create new sounds
and better their performances.

Note
1 Sims has worked as an editor on recent releases from Rush, The Tragically Hip, Barenaked
Ladies, Three Days Grace, and many more household names.
7

Pre-Production in Mixing
Mixing in Pre-Production
Dylan Lauzon

Delineating roles and rules in music creation isn’t something I often run
into in the field, working professionally in the music industry. While cer-
tain tasks are saved for certain phases of the recording process, there is
rarely as wide a gulf between phases like production and pre-production
as is often portrayed in music academia. Jay Hodgson discusses it further:

From a practical perspective, such divisions will always be artificial. Each time
recordists select a particular microphone to record a particular sound source,
for instance, they filter the frequency content of that sound source in particular
ways; in so doing, they equalize and mix their records, even at this very early
stage. Recording practice is an entirely holistic procedure, after all. Tracking,
signal processions, mixing and mastering cannot be separated—not in practice,
at least. They are easily excised in theory, though, because each procedure is
tailored to produce a different result. During the tracking phase, for example,
recordists capture raw audio singles which they later massage into final form
using a variety of signal processing, mixing and mastering techniques. During
the signal processing phase, recordists filter and refine the “raw audio signals”
they collect during tracking; and, moreover, we will see that many kinds of
signal processing are done during tracking. Mixing is done to spatially orga-
nize the component tracks in a multi-track production into well-proportioned
shapes, and during mastering recordists apply a finishing layer of audio to var-
nish their mixes, to ensure they sound at their optimal best on a variety of
playback machines and in a variety of different formats.

(Hodgson, 2010: xii)

Mixing isn’t a process that begins entirely in the formal mixing phase
of the recording process. In practice, mixing begins in pre-production—
when the first note is recorded. To reiterate Hodgson, every decision
throughout the creation process has a profound effect on the mixing pro-
cess. To further explore this phenomenon, I intend to thoroughly explore
my own personal pre-production process and attempt to describe how
mix decisions are occurring throughout. Further compounding the con-
fusion is modern recording technology. Recordists at all levels now have
access to sample libraries recorded in rooms like Abbey Road and digi-
tal emulations of synthesizers and guitar amplifiers that were historically
114
Pre-Production in Mixing 115

inaccessible to most users. These technologies allow us to add pre-mixed

content to a project at any stage of creation. The sheer quality and com-
plexity of these tools blur lines between the creative phases of recording
even further. While I will explore mix moves in pre-production, I am not
positing that mixing isn’t a discrete process unto itself within the mix
project, but rather that mix moves occur throughout pre-production and
into record production proper. What follows is my personal definition and
understanding of pre-production and a thorough outline of the process
taken by my writing team throughout the development of a song.

What Is Pre-Production?

Pre-production, in my experience, has become an overused buzzword

among producers, songwriters and audio engineers. One often hears it as
a meaningless platitude used to encourage hard work, or to scare a band
or songwriter into working hard. For example, “If you guys don’t do your
pre-production, this record won’t be half as good as it could be!” or “Do
your pre-pro! We’re going to have a great time if we’re prepared!”
What is it really, though? It can broadly be described as the fixing of
certain musical elements of a song into place prior to entering the actual
studio production process—in other words—writing the song and prepar-
ing the parts before recording. Colloquially, however, it often just means
that the band needs to get its act together prior to recording. Rehearse all
your parts so that they don’t eat up precious studio time and money, write
the song, come up with some production ideas, work out arrangements
and organize all of the administrative details of the whole recording pro-
cess, like lining up musicians, accommodations, etc. While often mini-
mized, I believe the pre-production stage of song development is arguably
the most important part of the whole process, as it encompasses both the
inception and the execution of the musical idea.
An issue with this chapter lies in defining terms and roles within
the recording process. Where is the line between songwriting and pre-
production, between pre-production and production, between production
and mixing? The answer is beyond the scope of this paper, but I believe it
can be argued that musicians are making production and mix decisions at
every phase of the creation process. For example, microphone selection on
some level is intrinsically a mix decision in that it’s an irreversible sonic
decision that profoundly affects how an element will behave in the final
mix. Even decisions as basic as the key in which the song is played have
far-reaching effects on the final production and mix of a song. The most
obvious example is the difference between a comfortably sung midrange
vocal and a belted vocal in the upper reaches of a vocalist’s range. A belted
vocal will have a major impact on how the whole mix and production
is presented to the end listener. While reading, you might note that what
I consider pre-production you may consider production, or that what I con-
sider pre-production you may even consider mixing. The hard line that
I draw while creating and producing material is drawn at the entrance of a
116 Dylan Lauzon

commercial studio. A track enters the production stage, in my professional

opinion, when it is vetted beyond the project studio stage and enters its
final stages in a commercial studio, or in the case of smaller acts, becomes
a formal song. That is, when the song is formally recorded for release,
rather than just a bedroom demo.
Pre-production can be a very personal process, and it doesn’t necessar-
ily have any rules. Some producers, like Max Martin in the pop world or
Devin Townsend in the rock and metal world, take pre-production to the
extreme. Tracks enter the studio almost 90% complete, really only com-
ing in for mix, final production tweaks only apparent on a tuned system,
and the recording of instruments that can’t be easily captured in a project
environment like drums, strings or horns. Other producers, with whom
I have personally worked, prefer to depend on ‘electricity’ in the studio,
so to speak. That is, to minimize pre-production, simply often write in the
studio and rely on luck and skill to get the song done on the fly rather than
do extensive preparations beforehand.
For the purposes of this chapter, I will outline the process I take in devel-
oping a track with a limited budget for proper recording and mixing. The
approach that I’ll outline is quite similar to that of Max Martin’s and Devin
Townsend’s processes: it takes the song as close to completion as possible in
the pre-production and project studio stages. The process focuses on creat-
ing tones at the project stage that translate into a mix-ready, and often pre-
mixed, product. It also develops a DAW (digital audio workstation) session
to the point where it can easily be transferred to a more professional listening
environment and taken to mixing with minimal changes and overdubbing.
I hope to prove that the mix process doesn’t have to be treated or con-
ceptualized as a self-contained stage of the music creation process. Steps
can, and need to, be taken throughout the entire development of a song in
order to expedite and simplify the production and mix processes.

The Process

The purpose of this section is not to provide an instruction manual on how to

write or produce a track, but rather to describe my process and how the final
mix factors into the process—writing a mix, if you like. While at moments
it will seem rather repetitive or basic, the mix implications and reasons for
steps are intended to be the focal point, rather than the steps themselves. It
should also be noted that this entire process typically takes place in the home
or project studio and encompasses the writing process as well as the record-
ing process. Writing is taking place as the parts are being recorded.

i) Idea Generation
It’s beyond the scope of this chapter to discuss the creative process and
how ideas are generated from scratch, but we can discuss how best to cap-
ture this stage. Everyone has their own method, but at this stage simple and
transparent is better. It’s about capturing the content, rather than capturing
Pre-Production in Mixing 117

tones and creating productions. The simplest in most cases is to use the
dictaphone built into most modern smart phones. The purpose here is to
capture the idea for later use in the pre-production studio.

ii) Session Setup

Though difficult at this early stage of recording, it’s still important to con-
sider mix decisions when deciding on tones for this stage of recording.
One shouldn’t hesitate to make mix-relevant choices while recording the
initial tracks, or initial ideas. When tracking acoustic guitar or vocals,
especially for more modern music, it can be common practice to compress
and equalize heavily going in. It’s also easy to be persuaded by the emp-
tiness of the track to capture a bass-heavy basic tone on acoustic guitar
or piano, despite the fact that at mix stage the instrument would probably
be aggressively high passed, removing excessive bass from the track. If
the decision is made at this stage to capture the tone in a mix-ready state,
we’ve already taken the first step toward mixing!

iii) Developing the Bulk of the Song

In order for this process to be successful, one must focus on creative
momentum rather than perfection at each stage of the process. I do posit
that it’s important to make mix decisions as one goes forward, but that in
no way means that one should labor over these concepts. Make decisions
with confidence and move on. Mistakes do occasionally happen that will
make certain tracks worthless, but the gains made via creative momentum
more than make up for the losses, in my experience.
Writing and capturing the bulk of the ideas is a hugely variable part
of pre-production. Everyone can and should have their own process for
developing the production of the track. It even varies genre to genre for
me personally. It’s a necessity, however, to reiterate that for our pur-
poses the pre-production process is aimed at a mix-ready or even mixed
process.
The foundation of most modern popular music is a powerful ‘back-
beat’. There are many drum and percussion libraries available com-
mercially that are close to mix ready out of the box. With intelligent
application of compression and processing, it’s simple to achieve a com-
mercially viable product in a project studio setting. Also, as a side note:
the importance of humanization (randomization of velocity and time
in MIDI) is often overstated. Popular songs are often fully edited to be
100% tempo accurate anyhow, so in many cases, especially in electronic
music, programmed drums are effective without using the humanizing
functions of DAWs.
This ties in closely with the process used by Canadian metal and pro-
gressive producer Devin Townsend of Strapping Young Lad and Steve Vai
and the WildHearts fame. In December 2015, ToonTrack (creators of the
Drumkit from Hell plugin) commissioned Townsend to create an entire
track from scratch live, forcing him to slam together the pre-production,
118 Dylan Lauzon

production and mixing stages of creation. The following video provides a

unique insight into this modern form of pre-production.
Townsend describes his process for developing drums for his track at
the beginning of development that often get used in full on the final ver-
sion of the record.

I pick presets, and I really make sure not to over analyze or second guess
myself. I often just pick loops that sound good in the context of things, and
move on not changing anything. It’s more about momentum than it is about
having the perfect or ideal part.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Bxzr9n_HK8

The insight here is that the focal point needs to be on the development of
the song rather than the tones or actual part played often. Mix issues can be
linked to structural and musical problems within the song as often as they
can be linked to actual technical and engineering issues.
The common next step is to develop the bulk of the musical elements of
a track; this often includes bass, guitar, synthesizers, banjo, kazoo. Really,
anything other than vocals and drums. As always, a huge amount of vari-
ety of processes exists at this part of the pre-production process. As in the
session set-up step, it’s very important here to capture a tone that’s easily
reproducible and can be used as an element in a mix. That’s not to say to
shy away from unique or interesting tones, but rather make sure to docu-
ment your processes, so that decisions can be recreated.
As an aside, this is a good moment to begin developing a collection of
production moves if it’s something you don’t have as a producer. A collec-
tion of presets can really facilitate flow and momentum in songwriting and
idea creation. That is, have sounds prepared ahead of time for particular
scenarios; a Mellotron pad patch for dramatic moments, a clean, dirty and
distorted guitar tone, a solid funky bass tone.
It’s important to make mix decisions as these ideas are developed. Com-
mitting equalization curves and compression settings not only allow one
to begin creating mix-ready tones early in the process, it sits elements
in their proper places, encouraging the inclusion of additional elements
that wouldn’t become relevant until the production and mixing phases of
recording.
While tracking in pre-production, it’s also important to track to the
same extent one would in studio. Specifically, things like guitar doubling
are important. Mix decisions based on a mono guitar will be very different
from those based on a wide and full stereo guitar, as will mix decisions
based on a simple single performance versus a powerful quad-tracked
heavy performance. Sometimes, underdeveloped elements can lead to an
overpopulation of elements that otherwise don’t need to be in a mix.
In the video linked above, you see Devin Townsend taking these steps
in creating his own production. Each step taken is with the final mix in
mind. As he captures even the least reliable instruments, he’s always con-
sidering the mix. For example, during the video he is seen recording an
acoustic guitar that has less than desirable intonation. Though the guitar
Pre-Production in Mixing 119

could never be used as a focal point in the performance, he realizes at this

early stage its value in the final mix—specifically, in this case, as a rhyth-
mic element rather than a harmonic one. Without a mix-forward perspec-
tive during this stage of pre-production, Townsend may have completely
foregone the acoustic guitar altogether, resulting in increased workload in
studio or a complete lack of the element in the final mix.

iv) Post-Tracking Song Analysis

One of the biggest advantages of using this pre-production method is the
efficacy with which you can analyze and critique a song prior to taking it to
the studio. It can be difficult to accurately judge whether the tempo or key
of a song is ideal at the dictaphone stage of the pre-production method. In
fact, for me, the song is almost universally ten or fifteen beats per minute
too slow, due to the quiet nature of recording it, and a tone or semitone too
high for the vocalist, since it’s often easier to sing high in a quiet falsetto
than it is to belt out the note.
Once the rhythmic elements and a rough vocal are in place, problems
with the basic structure of a song become apparent. An intro that may
have seemed excessive with just one instrument may become an interest-
ing musical element with some auxiliary instrumentation. A tempo that
may have seemed perfect may come off as dragging once all the rhythmic
elements are present. Many small problems become highly apparent at this
stage of recording, which is immensely valuable for any project heading
into studio.
When the mix is taken into account at all stages of the pre-production
process, creative moves often become much more obvious. Where a guitar
seems perfect without considering mix, we can often realize it needs synth
support, or when a simple acoustic and vocal arrangement can make a
song seem passable, a full arrangement may highlight boring or repetitive
moments. This all adds up to a savings in valuable studio time and creative
energy.

v) Vocal Capture
The message here isn’t to obtain the best equipment possible to capture the
vocal, but rather to make decisions. High pass where necessary, compress
and equalize to balance with the tracks captured in previous stages. The
tracking process shouldn’t be unlike one that would be taken in studio:
capture it part by part or line by line if necessary, and create a near-perfect
composite of all the takes. It’s even viable to automate the vocal as one
would during the mix stage. A vocal that is too full and too loud can make
necessary backing vocals and harmonies less obvious, while a mix-ready
vocal necessitates backing vocals at key moments.
Following lead vocal, backing vocals are fully fleshed out, almost beyond
true necessity at mix level. While I’ll dig into this more deeply in the next
phase of the process, the excess harmonies will be muted in the editing
portion of the process. The simplest method is to do blocks of harmony for
120 Dylan Lauzon

each part—thirds, perfect fifths, low and high octaves. This gives clarity as
to what more interesting and complex harmonies are necessary.

vi) Edit, Rough Mix and Hard Mix

The final phase of my process is to fully clean and edit this session. When
I say editing, I mean editing in full. That is, cut up and quantize all com-
ponents of the song (if such methods are right for the song), remove any
and all dead space with unwanted noise, and fully tune and comp all vocal
performances. Some would argue that doing this prior to recording is an
exercise in futility, since often the vocal is redone anyway, as is much of
the editing, and I would have defended that ideal two or three years ago.
With the methods described in this chapter, however, editing becomes a
very valuable component of the creative process. It allows us to take song
analysis to a level over and above that described in part iv. New flaws
become apparent as editing is completed, especially as room is being made
by removing noise and making interaction tighter between tracks. Often
one realizes that more tracks are necessary before proceeding to the mix
stage after the editing stage.
Once editing is complete, it’s time to do a rough mix—something
that sounds as close to what you’d hear on the radio as possible without
spending an excessive amount of time. This is going to be a process more
focused on sonics than on the musical placement of elements. In a typical
session, this would include adding basic reverb and delay sends and gener-
ally making every element of the song presentable.
At this point, the tracks would be sounding clean, but are likely to be
dense and busy, since across the process we focused on keeping creative
momentum in prior steps. To correct this, the next step is something I call
‘hard mixing’. It’s the process of selectively muting swathes of audio in
the interest of improving the song. In some sections, you’ll find yourself
removing guitar or vocal doubles, and sometimes you’ll even drop down
to just vocal and drums. This is a very aggressive form of mixing within
the pre-production process. It may lack the technical finesse of traditional
mixing, but the musical effects are profound. Hard mixing is important for
guiding the final mix of the song, especially in terms of dynamic range and
opening up space for production elements like delay trails and cavernous
reverbs.

vii) Pre-Studio, Pre-Mix and Final Processes

At this point, the song is nearly ready for the studio. Administrative tasks
such as preparing the inputs and outputs for the specific recording stu-
dio, preparing sessions for the studio’s DAW, and general simplification
and tidying of sessions needs to happen, but are outside the remit of this
chapter.
When this pre-production process is complete, the song should be
nearly complete. Many of the tones should be heard in the final process,
and the time in a commercial studio could be cut down to a bare minimum.
Pre-Production in Mixing 121

The goals of the studio should be to capture tones that are impossible in
a project’s setting stage, i.e., instrumentation that require immense input
lists like drums, or perhaps a more exciting vocal tone using rare and vin-
tage microphones. Even choirs, strings or horns if they are right for the
song are a great thing to capture in a commercial studio.
As outlined in the introduction, this process truly does gray the line
between traditional notions of production and pre-production. In many
cases the writing process never stops, even when the pre-production pro-
cess is arguably over and the song has entered the studio. Modernization
and availability of recording equipment has truly blurred the lines between
all roles within the recording process. It’s as difficult to pin down where
engineering begins and production ends as it is to pin down where pre-
production ends and mixing begins.
As you step into a studio or a mix environment following your pre-
production sessions, you really do come to realize how valuable it can be
to make conscious mix decisions in pre-production. Lacking components
become much more apparent, while conversely overproduction is easily
visible, saving valuable resources and, more importantly, time and creative
energy.
Academically, this needs to be explored further. I believe that it is
apparent that pre-production is, today, an integral part of mixing as a
whole. To put it simply, one needs material to mix in the first place, and
pre-production provides some of that material, thus informing the mix as
a whole. Even though pre-production processes are individual and varied
in nature, they will always affect the mix in that sense. In closing, I hope
that outlining my process has successfully illuminated my connections
that stretch between pre-production and mixing.

Bibliography
Hodgson, Jay. (2010). Understanding Records: A Field Guide to Recording Practice. New
York: Bloomsbury.
8

Between the Speakers

Discussions on Mixing
Dean Nelson

The recording community of today has the most superior equipment, stu-
dios and processing power. Almost everyone now has access to pieces that
were once only accessible to those who were lucky and talented enough to
work in the great rooms around the world such as Abbey Road, Olympic,
United Western or Sunset Sound, to name just a few. Anyone can load a
$20k Fairchild 660 to every single channel of the DAW. While I believe the
digital emulations are somewhat ‘apples and oranges’ compared to their
analog counterparts, I do somehow prefer the consistency and reliability
of digital plugins.
So, I ask myself, are we then creating, recording and mixing history’s
most epic records? We should be, and I think we are for the most part!
However, I believe other mixers can become sidetracked by the latest piece
of gear, plugin or update. They sometimes appear to be some holy carrot
hung before us. It’s so tempting to endlessly research all the facts and
figures, including the gear used on so many great records, and for me the
result is that I’m buried in a referential foundation. I too am a victim of
these distractions and they do frustrate me. I believe in a healthy embrace
of the past but with a strong ear towards the future. Depending on the proj-
ect, I value a blend of past and present. I’d rather be forging into the future
and not wasting energy.
There is no question about it, we have a bounty of resources, and
I believe in knowing recording history. However, that only gets one a
hair closer to completing a mix from beginning to end. Once we place
ourselves between the speakers, the ultimate goal is to make the speak-
ers move and elicit an emotional response. That’s where I want to be,
‘between speakers’. Ideally, the mix should be a journey that wraps
around each ear, through the eardrum to the inner ear and thus setting
off emotional neurons. I’d like to share a few tips to make this journey
from speaker to ear happen with speed and efficiency, and find the ceil-
ing while embracing the liberation of limitation in the areas of tones and
textures. I’ll share some of my mixing staples. I’ll explain my fondness
for the woolliness of my blue sweater, i.e., the classic Neve with loads of
iron-wrapped transformers, and how I establish a bold creative point of
view while serving the song and production.

122
Between the Speakers 123

Each of the aspects that will be examined include both the technical and
artistic side of mixing. Additionally, while keeping the practical in mind,
areas such as time and budgetary constraints in the realm of prepping,
working from presets and templates from the beginning to finishing a mix
will also be considered. The digital world provides the ability to work with
amazing speed and efficiency, thus allowing for stellar records to be made
for a budget that would have been considered a demo budget twenty years
ago. I began in the industry at the end of the 1990s/2000, during what
I would say was a sea change of the dominant analog recordings to the
digital world, with Pro Tools being the leader in DAWs. This allowed me
a great vantage point of the two worlds of analog and digital. There are
many positive workflow and efficiency aspects to DAWs, but I do encoun-
ter how easy it is to overdo it due to the unlimited ability of recalls, which
can jeopardize the end result by overprocessing sonically. I’ve learned the
beauty of chance and happy accidents provided by the analog world when
mixing. I have found further delaying decisions can be counterproductive.
The mixer oftentimes can wait for the next day and the mood has changed,
and a vicious cycle is entered of unlimited recalls and a never-ending mix.
The way I’ve learned to circumvent infinite possibilities is with limita-
tions. Limitations for me are a way to direct and harness my full potential
of creativity. In the coming pages, I will explore the virtues of narrowing
down the playing field in the area of workflow, which includes session
preparation of routing and layout, to the beginning and end of the mix.
While I’m not suggesting that new plugins shouldn’t be tried, I do find
boundaries are a helpful place to start. Just because we can eat food from
across the globe doesn’t mean we can throw together a mixture of ingre-
dients on a plate with a hodgepodge of spices. As a mixer, you’re trying
to obtain a balance of flavors. My spice cabinet is a blend of tubes, trans-
formers and transistors. A way to manage these choices and to reach for
the appropriate sound is to know to which group the EQ or compressor
belongs. As I stated, there is no shortage of gear and equipment choices
today, which means that knowing how and where to start can be daunting.
As with cooking, you become handy with certain methods, for example,
sautéing, frying and developing a competency and dexterity with certain
knives: paring, boning and chef’s knives. When mixing, we can use a com-
pressor for controlling dynamics and elevating and embellishing the feel,
but we can also establish the mood based on the type of compressor: tube,
transformer or transistor. Having these go-to staples creates a familiar
landscape for you to work within. These are the pigments of your palette,
your familiar tones, and the compass to use throughout your mix.
Before I start with pre-mixing details, let me give my thoughts on what
I think of the role of a mixer. First, I definitely never elevate my role as a
mixer above the producer, band or, most importantly, the song. My job is to
serve the song and the production. I believe I’m hired for the outsider per-
spective and as a second set of ears. I believe it can become even more of a
challenge if you also recorded the record. Sometimes it becomes apparent
that you can’t see the forest through the trees. The goal is taking what’s
there and highlighting and magnifying all of the beautiful moments. At
124 Dean Nelson

times, it can be the last 25% which may be felt and not heard. That’s what
I believe mixing to be in a nutshell.
I remember, when I was just starting out, how intrigued I was by how
people made their way into the mixing bowl, so I share my brief route.
My path came by way of a recording school called the Ontario Institute
of Audio Recording Technology in London, Ontario, Canada. After grad-
uation, I got an offer via a past grad at the school to be a tech at a studio
in Burbank, California. After a week-long cross-country drive from North
Carolina, I met with the studio owner and we quickly surmised that the
tech position was not for me. I was terrible at soldering. However, the
current assistant was looking to move on, which meant that there was
the chance at assisting, but I’d have to start out as a runner, learn the room
and get thrown into a couple sessions to see if I sank or swam. I definitely
swam, although the gracefulness can be questioned. The studio was Ocean
Recording, and when I started in June 2001, they had recently installed
and refurbished two old 80 series Neves. They essentially wired the two
together for a higher channel count. But, while the place was amazing for
tracking, there was no automation, which meant not too much mixing.
They did eventually install Flying Faders sometime after I left. The great
thing about starting off in a tracking studio with a healthy amount of clas-
sic mics, outboard gear and vintage Neves is that it allowed me to have a
strong reference point of understanding the most sonically bare state that
a record could be. Enter ear training 101. I think the biggest instruments
I got to know were the drums in their raw state. The industry was starting
to feel the early effects of file sharing and Napster, thus the loss of record
sales. In turn, the budgets were being cut, which meant the majority of
bands were coming in to track drums or beds and then moved on to cheaper
studios for overdubs. So, I got to hear some of the finest drummers and kits
(vintage and modern) in Los Angeles, as well as top-notch engineers and
their various approaches to miking. This was amazing ear training for me,
as drums typically play a large part in the mix foundation. After a couple
years, I felt I had a pretty good grasp on the foundational side of tracking,
for example, the placement of the musicians in the room and mic and com-
pressor choices, as well as basic EQ’ing approaches. After bands finished
up their sessions, I would often visit them when they moved onto other
studios for mixing. What I heard at the mixing point seemed miles beyond
the tracking stage. In the early 2000s, mixing in the box was still in its
infancy, mainly due to processing power and, more specific to Pro Tools,
the lack of delay compensation. Mixing as you go had not yet reached its
stride. I decided to move on from Ocean and ended up at a studio called
Chalice, where there was a decent amount of mixing going on. The cool
thing about Chalice was the mixture of various genres of music from rock,
urban, RnB and hip hop. It was great to see the different approaches based
on genre. I think the reason they catered to the variety was that they had an
SSL 9000J and a Neve 88R. My time there was a bit short-lived, as Chal-
ice was just getting going, and when the bookings slowed down around
Christmas, the owner freaked out and fired most of the staff. Eventually,
I ended up at Ocean Way, which has now been changed back to the original
Between the Speakers 125

name of United Recording Studios. I was assigned to Studio A where Jack

Joseph Puig had been in residence for over eight years. I started out as the
standard assistant and by the time I left, I was working more in the role as
engineer. When I was on the job hunt, my goal was to be in a place where
I could experience more mixing and possibly a mentor-type role.
Lastly, before moving on, I’d like to mention the importance of the
undervalued but incredibly beneficial role of mentoring. Mentoring pro-
vides the environment for some consistency, i.e., with the console, gear
and room. I believe when one is developing their ear, having constants
such as the same mixer’s method, gear and room allows the ear to be more
perceptive to changes in a particular area. Similarly, when one is A/B-
ing mics, you keep the position and distance, along with the mic pre the
same then substitute out the mic. Once you have a mic you like, then you
move on to various pre’s and then compressors. Essentially, you change
one element at a time. In the assistant role with Jack, there was a controlled
environment of the studio, console and gear, and the variables were the
incoming mixes by various bands/producers and engineers. What I’ve real-
ized is that seeing the record-making process from various vantage points
has provided particular valuable insights. From the tracking side of things,
I was able to see all of the mic choices, drum placement and instruments
in the tracking room. As a result, I felt I had a strong understanding of how
a well-tracked record should sound upon arrival to the final mixing stage.
When I get a session to mix now, for example, I can rate the quality of the
song from a mixing standpoint. I analyze it and determine if I have some
fixing or polishing to do, or a combination of both. When you are at the
mixing stage, one gets the vantage point of hearing all types of tracking
and production jobs/styles from solid to moderate to subpar. Once you
completely move out on your own, you don’t get as much of that special
window into all of the different tracking and production styles.
After five years with Jack, I moved on to work with Beck as his house
engineer and mixer for about two years. As with Jack, the consistency of
working with the same person was a fruitful environment for my cultiva-
tion as a mixer. Eventually, though, you move on and try to stand on your
own, and that’s where I’m at now.

Beginning of the Mix

It’s no secret that there is an inherent conflict between art and commerce,
and it is within that conflict that a challenging divide in record making
falls. A mixer’s goal is to excel and execute all that is needed creatively,
yet the end goal is also to produce an album that sells. Anyone can trim
extraneous time spent on a mix so that there will be money saved for you
and the band. One area that can burn time away unnecessarily is getting
started. For example, when you receive a session and can’t start imme-
diately, it can be a creative damper. In my time with Jack, I learned the
importance of sitting down and going from zero to sixty mph in a couple of
seconds. In other words, hitting the spacebar and unmuting and bypassing
126 Dean Nelson

some channels and plug-ins to see the tonal and sonic possibilities of the
mix come to life. This ability comes from one of the benefits of the DAW
world. Starting a mix again (prep work of routing, choosing plugins, figur-
ing out naming, etc.) can take from thirty minutes to a couple hours. That
extra time, however, adds up over the course of a couple weeks, months or
years. And one must ask, “who’s paying for that and how it will it affect
the ultimate course of the record?” Therefore, I offer some insight on how
to expedite and streamline this process to allow you to dive into what you
really want to be doing, which is the creative side of mixing.
During the first hour of any project, I like to find my bearings by starting
to address points noted: the main areas of timing and tuning to the spe-
cifics of tones along with any bad recording anomalies. These undesired
artifacts can be clipping, distortion, edits without fades or improper fades.
If there is an excess of timing or tuning issues, I’ll get in touch with the
band/producer. If it’s a small thing, I’ll make the edit and try to accommo-
date and work around the issue. It’s ideal for a mixer to receive sessions
in which all tracks are cleaned up with completed edits, fades applied and
consolidated clips, and that playlists are cleaned out unless there is need
for an alternate take. Markers should be located in the correct spot, and all
tracks should be labeled with the name of the instrument. The comments
section is a great spot for information such as the mic, pre and part that the
instrument is used in. I can’t stress that enough. Somebody’s name is not
an instrument, for example. Lastly, there should not be any unused audio
tracks, and if any virtual instrument tracks have been used those should
be printed as audio tracks. Sessions sent having the playlist and clip list
cleaned out helps with file size in that you are not sending any unused
parts, which allows for faster uploading and downloading time. Plus, it
allows for lower chances of confusion in regards to any unnecessary clips
or tracks which may be questioned for the intended use in the mix.
Other important considerations are needed when beginning a mix. If you
have the luxury, decide whether you will mix completely in the box or use
a console/summing mixer. My preference is a hybrid of the two: part in the
box and part on the desk. This allows some variation in the tone as well as
the tactile and ergonomic variety of not looking at a screen. This hybrid
approach is how I mixed Buck 65’s last record, Neverlove. I discuss this
record more at the end of the chapter. One reason that I like to mix on a
desk, and without total recall, is that when the day or session is finished, the
mixes were either right or not. I like that challenge—it forces me to make
decisions in the moment. Buck’s Neverlove was mixed on a desk without
recall, as was what I mixed for Beck. There’s a certain amount of fear that
pushes me in that type of situation by knowing that I’ll never have that time
again and I can’t just go home and open the session to make changes. Thus,
the safety net of recall creates sterility and mediocrity. There are times,
however, when I don’t have the luxury of mixing on a desk and will use an
old Yamaha summing mixer from the 1970s. It is a simple six-channel mixer
with mic/line selection and three band EQs. Usually, I’ll send the drums
and bass to channels 1 and 2, the remaining music to channels 3 and 4 and
all the vocals to channels 5 and 6. This is a basic type of stem processing;
Between the Speakers 127

it glues the major sections together. Next, I may use a compressor on the
output before I print back into Pro Tools. My go-to bus compressors are the
SSL, SmartC2 and the Neve 33609. With this setup, I like to have a solid
set of analog-to-digital convertors going back in, because if the convertors
are average, it seems to cancel out the benefits of summing through a mixer
altogether. The D/A A/D conversion process with poor electronics is far
more degrading than the benefits of analog summing.
Over time, I’ve created mix template sessions, which are sessions only
populated with various auxiliary tracks that contain plug-in chains on the
inserts. The use of template sessions is another concept that I picked up
and developed from my time with Jack. These not only save time but also
accelerate the mixing pace. These include dynamic manipulation: par-
allel compressors, gates for kicks, snares and bass; harmonic variance/
tone control: saturation to distortion; width: stereo image exaggeration; as
well as pitch, reverbs and delays. If starting the first song of a full record
or series of songs, I may import some auxiliary channels or these chains
directly from the template sessions to the tracks. When I import them, they
are already named and a bus is selected; thus, I may only have to add a
send to the channel. This allows me to simply unmute several possibilities
in a short amount of time and gain vast perspectives quickly, as a result.
This approach prevents me from having to change settings and go through
a bunch of pages of the plugin. Example compressor options in these tem-
plate sessions offer a variety of colors and ADSR shaping. The tones are
largely determined by their electronic design and range from various tubes,
transformers and transistors. These options will have various settings for
attack and release time along with ratios for the ability to increase attack
for punchiness or create a longer release for sustain, thus helping to bring
out the body of a snare. I’ll use high ratios to limiting (10–20–1000 to 1)
for putting a part front and center. In the reverb world, they vary in types
again based on personality and tone: from classic metallic and shimmering
plates and chambers to the odd irregularities of a spring. I continue these
options with delays (tape based to digital), harmonic effects (tape and tube
emulation to guitar amp simulators) and stereo image effects. I really love
the versatility of the Soundtoys EchoBoy.
Another time-saving strategy when moving between songs is an
approach I learned during my days working in a largely analog world.
The goal is to not to zero out the console, but to leave the outboard gear
patched in. Generally, a band or artist records an album in chunks or in
one fell swoop of tracking with a similar setup of instruments and mics,
thus creating the possibility for a very consistent sound for the record.
Chances are that you can leave all of the outboard gear patched in and,
similarly with DAWs, route or import all the of same plugin chains on top
of the corresponding tracks of the next song. Then you can simply toggle
between the insert points being engaged and out to hear EQ or dynamic
changes. These are presets in a sense, ones that you’ve created, and more
than a single effect but chains of processing. Now, you may have to do
some slight adjustments but you are not beginning from scratch, which
can save half an hour or so because it eliminates the need to redo all the
128 Dean Nelson

routing and plug-in selection. In the analog world, this patching can eat up
hours, along with valuable time in DAWs as well. In Pro Tools, you can do
this by setting up a mixing template or using import session data to copy
inserts from your previous session to the current session’s inserts of the
respective channels. Chances are the EQ and dynamic adjustment should
be close to what you attained on the previous song. When you import from
a template session, you bring in a few choices per key insert points on the
main instrument tracks. The result is easily toggling the bypass in and out
to offer a variety of sonic possibilities. Add to this a couple back buses
scenarios and you can go from zero to sixty in a few minutes. This allows
you to save time and to progress creatively in the mix exponentially. For
every record I mix, after I’m done with the mix I typically will make a
template session or export key plugin chains to these mix template ses-
sions. To clarify, I’ll have several back bused (parallel) chains for main
elements: kick, snare, overheads, toms, bass, guitars, vocals, etc. Then,
there a variety of reverbs and delays. This works in line with the concept
of using presets of plugins as a starting point. All of these chains usually
have some tonal commonalities: for example, an EMI compressor to an
EMI EQ. As I stated at the beginning of this section, the way I have these
organized falls basically into two categories: colorful to transparent. This
is usually determined by whether they have an origin ranging from tube to
transistor. Other specs considered are discrete, transformer coupled or not,
and the implementation on an integrated circuit. Possibly, the more metal
involved equals more color. Knowing these specs can help to eliminate the
guesswork when trying to capture the desired tonal shape and color. With
mixing, you are trying to capture a moment in time, and that requires the
ability to work with efficiency and effectiveness. One should work to know
which pencil, crayon or knife to grab while it does take time to exper-
iment. This will help in your speed and the ability to execute the sonic
landscape that you or the artist is searching for in the mix. Along with the
color aspect of the plug-in, I also consider how it allows me to detail and
control the ADSR of a signal. Broadly speaking, I decide whether I need
to retain the attack, add attack, truncate the sustain or exaggerate the body.
I may also consider whether I want to knock down and smooth out the
transients or add some punch. Knowing if the plugin is based on a tube
or transistor will offer insight into how fast the compressor will respond.
Generally speaking, the beauty of the transistors over time are their speed
of capturing transients, thus allowing for more attack. The downside to
them is the apparent loss of color. Let’s check out a couple of examples.
A typical chain for the kick could be a couple of different mics: in, out and
sub. I may give each a touch of individual EQ’ing and then sum down to
an auxiliary track for global control. For the most part, the strategy for this
setup is as follows: the inside kick captures the attack/beater for some nice
punch (the 120 Hz area) or sub depending on the mics used, the goal of
the outside mic on the resonant head is to complement the inside mic with
sub or punch, and the sub-mic like the converted NS-10 or the Yamaha
sub mic is just that sub, 20 Hz–50 Hz. What you have in this scenario
of the low-end world is the kick in segments with some overlaps, along
Between the Speakers 129

with what I call nesting qualities like 20 Hz–40 Hz from the sub mic, 40
Hz–100 Hz and then 100 Hz and above. This is very close to how the kick
was treated on Buck’s ‘Danger and Play’. This is a broad breakdown, but
provides one with many options for a kick sound. What to expect from
the mics is an important consideration. The mics are funneled down this
aux, which allows you to carve further to taste with respect to the song.
In regards to the kick chain, I may use some kick back busing options of
compressors broken down in this way: one for punch, one for sub and one
for attack. That’s it. I essentially imagine the ADSR chain for each signal,
which enables me to break it down and separate it. Basically, this is what
you can do with multiband compressors, but for my simple mind I like to
break it down into these planes or snapshots of time. Wrapping up using
templates, a pitfall may be that it pushes you to familiar territory, so if the
band, artist or song is requiring something fresh, don’t go that route.
Now that we’ve talked a bit about the prepping process, let’s move on to
the beginning stages of the mix.
As I mentioned earlier, my goal as a mixer is to serve the song. So,
where does one start after the prep stage? My strategy is to break down the
mix into two broad parts: production and engineering. Some things I’m
listening for from a production standpoint are the arrangement, the lead
and ancillary parts, instrumentation, fills and transitions (handshakes), the
execution of the performances in the areas of timing and tuning, phrasing
and the dramatic arc of song: the use of tension and release, how it ebbs
and flows, where the climax may be, the melodic and harmonic structure and
overall feel and mood. From a technical standpoint, I’m listening for clar-
ity, definition, the overall balance from low to high and possible holes
or frequencies that are missing or the buildup of frequencies. I consider
whether the overall balance is muddy or too bright. Other sonic consider-
ations are tone and timbre of the instruments: is there an overall warm and
fuzzy feel, or does it feel clinical and sterile? Also, I determine if there has
been any processing in the area of compression—too much, too little? In
the area of ambience, I consider if the mix is overall too dry, or is it more
of an established ambient setting? Is it too wet or too dry? Are there too
many effects, etc.? I’ll listen to the whole song from top to bottom in these
respective areas along with soloing certain elements to see how they sound
on their own to see if there are any anomalies or artifacts. Some things
can sound awful soloed, but in the mix is what matters with the relative
relationships. As you listen, take notes, not just mentally, but actually write
them down and make a checklist. Have a keen ear to the lyrics and note
key words or phrases that should have automation pushes (rides), as well
as effects, delays or reverb tails. What I hope to obtain by this approach
is a sense of any major concerns, pros and cons, whether I need to cover
up a poorly played part that cannot be fixed with editing or try to provide
clarity for the vocals. If the song sounds like it’s in a good spot regarding
production and engineering, I typically just take the approach of buffing,
highlighting all the beautiful moments and building off of what’s already
there. Mixing is this process of relationships and relativity. If you adjust
one element, you should consider the effect on the surrounding parts, not
130 Dean Nelson

just what is happening in the immediate vicinity (section), but down the
road in the following sections of the song. Analysis to me is what’s work-
ing within the mix and what seems unrealized or what’s not working to
its fullest potential. It all goes back to the song. As a mixer, I believe you
toggle the hat of a producer and engineer. On the production side, I ask,
“What does the song need?” Sometimes I believe that songs, while techni-
cally complete, may feel like something is missing, and that is something
you can provide during mixing. You may have to fly a part around, mute
something that is arranging, or rely on some bells and whistles of ‘tricks’,
weird delays, reverbs or effects. It can be like a sleight-of-hand card trick.
Mixing is guiding the listener through an aural landscape of a sonic story.
Some artists seem surprised or caught off-guard by this approach when
they realize that a mix is not just simply a process in sonics. It very much
has to do with a holistic understanding of the song and why it might then
be necessary to mute a part or fly something around. I can operate from
a strictly sonic/engineering angle and work with EQ, compression, pan-
ning, etc., but to me it’s the full picture from a production and engineering
standpoint.

Starting: Where the Artist Left Off or From Scratch

There are two places to start the mix: (1) where the band/artist left off or
(2) completely from scratch with the faders set to zero and without any
plugins. I believe that picking up where the artist left off, which could
possibly mean leaving all the plugins inserted and routing intact that was
used during the tracking and recording process, allows one to hear the mix
from the exact place that the tracking process was left off. Mixing from
this point of view allows for continuity in tone and shape. In this approach,
bypass plug-ins to see how the treatment is working. Does the EQ’ing
feel accurate? Do the compression times and ratios feel good? How about
muting effect returns? Ask yourself if this treatment is adding to or taking
away from the song. Continuing in this way, you can have the client print
a rough mix at the end of the tracking process before they pass it on to be
mixed. Then, begin by zeroing out the faders and throwing all the plugins
into bypass. Next, build the mix back up based on the rough mix and rein-
state the plugins as you go. The result may be that you ultimately tweak
parameters to your liking and substitute your own preferred plugins. In a
sense, this can be a hybrid of how the mix came in with your own magic
wand waving on top. Beginning the mix from scratch is another possibility
for starting a mix. In this process, you would not refer to any rough mix
and rebalance from zeroed-out faders. This allows for the most creative
freedom from a mixing standpoint. After deciding which of the above
ways to take, there are then a couple of places to start with the song itself,
instrumentally speaking. The two main ways I begin a mix are either with
the foundational—low-end world of drums and bass—to the lead melodic
element, which in most cases are the vocals. See Phil Harding’s chapter in
this book (chapter 4) for an expanded discussion on this.
Between the Speakers 131

I tend to think of mixing as starting from a broad 10,000-foot view and

moving towards a very minute microscopic view. It’s like beginning with
broad brushstrokes followed by touch-ups. This can be a cyclical process:
starting broad and moving into fine details and then zooming out to broad
again. I mix in phases, building up the mix with equalization and com-
pression in stages. I try to be mindful to not build the drums and bass up
too much in size and lose space to fit other main elements, such as guitars,
keys, and vocals in. It’s a gradual process of using broad sweeps on the
EQs, along with first cutting any undesirable desirable frequency. I’m a
big fan of the importance of low mids. To me that area is the ‘gut’ of the
mix with some muscle. This area is tricky from an equalization standpoint,
because it is intertwined with the mud range of 250 Hz. A common thing
I hear is the cutting of too much low mids with a bell and high-pass filter-
ing too far on instruments like vocals, acoustic guitar and electric guitar.
The result starts to lean towards more of a smiley-face mix, which is not
my style. In my arsenal or palette, I like to have my staple EQ and com-
pressors and the fun one-trick ponies. My current picks for EQs fluctuate
between the Neve 1073, API 550a and the REQ by Waves. The REQ has
a bit of color, so it is not totally transparent. A really cool thing about the
REQ is it makes use of the resonant shelf design that Pultecs incorporate.
The one limitation I find, however, is the Q, which sometimes doesn’t get
as narrow as I’d like. In that case, the QEQ can be a better choice. My
first move in the chain, if needed, is subtractive EQ to clean up any harsh,
muddy or excessive buildup of frequencies. Next, for any additive EQ
along with some tone color, I’ll go to the 1073 or 550. A common question
that arises is what should sit on the extreme very bottom of the mix. The
most common options are bass, eclectic or synth, or kick on the bottom.
One other way to frame it is to have the two elements work as one unified
thump. In the early stages of the mix, I do not mind starting with extra
fat on the bone. I build it up as large as possible, somewhat grand within
reason to the tune, like the Technicolor version. For example, there’s only
so far you can take an acoustic guitar and voice song. The framing of the
song can be larger than life, a grand holiday meal, or a bit more realistic,
like your average daily honest family meal. Therefore, I build it up as big
as possible and then scale it back. For me it’s very similar to tracking. I’ll
start with seeing what kind of extension I can get on the top and bottom
of the frequency spectrum. The analogy I like to think of is sculpting with
a blank piece of marble and chipping away. For example, in the low end
I like to imagine the song as having more of a defined sub/round shape
bottom around the area of 60 Hz–80 Hz. The other shape would be one that
is punchier, around the area of 120 Hz–130 Hz. These two shapes could
be used in one song, though in different sections. One way this can be
determined is by tempo—slower tempos have more time between the beats
to let the sustain ring out and more up-tempo pieces typically need a kick
with shorter decay. Other factors in defining the low end, of course, is the
key of the song and the fundamental frequencies involved. For different
shapes of the kick and bass elements, check out ‘Grey/Afro’, ‘Santorini’
and ‘Danger and Play’ from Buck 65. After addressing the kick, I’ll look
132 Dean Nelson

at the snare and overheads. My typical approach for overheads is a solid

composite picture of the entire drum kit. However, this is entirely reliant
upon the tracking engineer’s approach, because one belief of the purpose
of the overheads is more for the cymbals and some snare. Of course, the
kick might not be so represented, but there can be some frequencies pres-
ent in the area of 80 Hz and above, so I just won’t throw a high-pass filter
on up to 200 Hz. This type of equalizing ties in to the overall approach to
seeing how far or large I can build up the song. I may dial a touch out of the
mids in the overheads where the snare is prominent on this initial balance
of the drums. Next, I’ll go through the remaining drum mics and on to the
bass. Once I get the rhythm section feeling good, I’ll throw in the vocals or
the other supporting element and work from there.

Tone and Texture

Since I was a kid, one of the consistent draws to record making has been
my obsession with tone. Of course, I did not know that then, but as much as
the song stuck with me there were also the tones and textures. A large part
of my tonal education came from my time spent at Ocean Way with JJP
and the chief tech Bruce Marien. I knew the instrument choices played a
large role in the sound, but it wasn’t until I got into recording that I learned
that the other part of the equation were the mics, pre-amps, compressors,
tape machines and the studios themselves. Words I use to describe tone are
warm, woolly, fuzzy, dull, dusty, woody, vibrant, shrill, metallic, glassy
and crystal clear, just to name a few. From an educational and financial
standpoint, an awesome thing about working with virtual plugins is the
ability to a get a gist of the classic pieces. The cons are, however, the access
to so many immediately. I often struggle with narrowing down the max
choices. It can be difficult to match the piece of equipment to that specific
sound in your head. In a very broad way, I think of tone as ranging from
really transparent (very true to how an instrument sounds before going
through the signal chain) to extremely colorful and vibrant. In order to
capture the spectrum of equalizers and compressors, a very general way is
to narrow down tone control choices into the fields of tubes and transistors,
along with the inclusion of transformers or op-amps to the current use
of ICs. Again, this is a very general division in order to begin narrowing
down gear/plugin choices. What you are getting from these different types
of electronics is the ability to shape the ADSR plus apply a certain amount
of color or not. Transistors provide better transient response, as well as less
color with the removal of transformers. For example, with Neve 1073 you
get transformers with a healthy amount of iron on the input and output,
resulting in some nice warmth and thickness and with a transformerless
GML a very true and clear sound. On mixes, I occasionally try to chal-
lenge myself to sticking to one model for EQ and compression. Depending
upon the sound and style of the band, with this approach you get great
tonal consistency. An analogy I like to make uses the medium of visual
arts. In drawing, let’s say you choose to stick with only pencils, charcoal
Between the Speakers 133

or pastels. You may find that you can still do all the dimensional detail, but
because there is only one medium being used by default, there is tonal con-
tinuity. All the records that have come out of historic studios like Olympic
with Helios, Abbey Road with EMI, Motown with Quad 8/Electrodyne
and Trident with Trident have a particular sound, a distinctive sonic fin-
gerprint. I’m guessing this is because there were specific and unique desks
in each of those rooms. In these classic studios, they designed and built
their own consoles and gear. And if they did buy stock equipment, chances
are that the studio techs modified it in some way that aligned with their
aesthetic. Hot rodding of sorts. One great example would be the Altec
436 mod EMI, which resulted in the RS124. (By the way, there is no other
compressor that sounds and responds like the RS124.) Beck had two Altec
436s with a version of the EMI mod, and those can be heard on the over-
head for ‘Ramona’, ‘Threshold’ and ‘Summertime’ of the Scott Pilgrim
soundtrack. All these studios, for better or worse, have sonic fingerprints.
Having worked at Ocean Way, I can hear the fingerprint of the chambers
on records from Frank Sinatra to Beck.
On Buck 65’s last record, the songs I worked on were done in Studio C
at Revolution Recording in Toronto. The desk at that time was a custom
Ward Beck. Sonically, it was clean and punchy, and while it had a superb
balance top to bottom EQ-wise, it did not have the ultra-round bottom of
a Neve, leaving out the ‘darkness’ on top. One very appealing factor of
working in that room and on that desk is the fact that it’s one of a kind. No
one’s going to go to the software inserts and load that plug-in. It only exists
at that studio (or it used to—I’m elsewhere now). Maybe I’m selfish, but
for me this is really cool and ties to my values of record making. Please see
the Buck 65 examples.
A concept based on this method of tonal continuity is to limit my spe-
cific model choices to the same pre/line amp, EQs or compressors on all
the needed elements of the record. For example, the Waves NLS (Non-
Linear Summer) has three models of consoles, a Neve, EMI and SSL.
When starting a mix, I may put a Waves NLS on every channel. Or, for
a bit of a more modern angle, I may have all the drums routed through
the Neve setting and the guitars routed through EMI and across the ste-
reo bus the SSL. A little mixture of flavors distributed to the instruments,
which tend to be flattered by the inherent electronics design of each model.
A classic combo is that of tracking through a Neve and mixing on an SSL.
Or, as with the Record Club Skip Spence, INXS and Yanni, those were
tracked on the custom API at Sunset Sound and mixed back at Beck’s
studio on the Neve 5315. One can start by tracking all of the warm and
woolly color of the Neve and then try to whip out the punchiness and
aggression by mixing through an SSL desk or, at the very least, using
an SSL compressor strapped across the stereo bus. A ballpark setup for
bus compression for me is a low ratio of 2:1 or 4:1 with about 3 dB–4
dB of gain reduction. Attack and release are dependent upon the tempo.
A helpful starting point is to start off with the slowest attack and fastest
release. Start increasing the attack and once the transients of the snare, for
example, disappear, back off. I will insert the stereo bus compressor fairly
134 Dean Nelson

early on in the mix and get some rough settings. Adjust the settings on the
loudest section of the song. If you set the stereo compressor on a quiet
section, like a verse, when a louder section, like a chorus, comes in, the
compressor will jump on it and suffocate the mix. The gain reduction will
be too much. Keep in mind throughout the mix to frequently check the bus
compressor to see that it’s not working too hard, killing needed transients
or pumping and breathing erratically. All the examples listed have an SSL
comp on the 2 mix.
I haven’t really hit on tube pieces yet—they’re all about the harmonics!
In the world of classic tubes, I think of the Pultec EQP 1A, LA-2A or the
Fairchild. These are pieces I’ll insert onto just about anything, certainly
any element that I feel is lacking what I would call ‘vibe’. For example,
acoustic guitar, vocal, piano and overheads really shine going through one
of the above. Richness is a common word to describe the sound. I’m not
even looking to do much in the area of compression, but just to add some
harmonic color. The Pultec has an amazing roundness to the low end and
a super smooth top end. The unique feature of the Pultec is the use of a
resonant shelf, which has the ability to cut and boost the same frequency.
I used the PuigTec on the Kick for Buck’s ‘Superhero in My Heart’. I like
to use it on the stereo bus with a little bump on the top and bottom. I was
lucky enough to be working for Jack when he did the PuigTec and Puig-
Child plug-ins with Waves. Jack sent his Fairchild to the Waves in Tel-Aviv
and once they did all the electronic measurements and coded up the first
beta, they sent us a copy. When we first opened it up, it responded like
his 670, but it was missing that ‘x’ factor. There is a beautiful open and
silky sound in the high end that comes from just inserting the unit into the
signal path without even pushing it to compression. So they sent us a ver-
sion, essentially with the hood open with a variety of parameters to tweak.
Eventually the ‘shimmer’/x-factor sound got dialed into Jack’s liking—a
fascinating experience. I guess when you have fourteen transformers and
twenty tubes, something epic should occur. In the end, I think the plugs
have the essence of the analog counterpart.
So far I’ve been referring to the use of tone control from the standard
use point of view, meaning ‘the technical and user manual correct way’.
What happens when these units were used in a slightly ‘wrong’ way is
what’s fascinating to me. I grew up in the 1980s and ‘90s on hip hop, punk
rock and skateboarding, and none of those things was about following the
user manual. Mixing for me gets really interesting when you start pushing
gear past the comfort zone, like hitting the input hotter and bringing down
the output. This is when you can really start to hear the true personal-
ity of some gear. Pushing the sonic comfort zone goes hand-in-hand with
my ethos of finding the ceiling. Working with Beck on a mix once, he
said, “sometimes you just have to throw orange paint on it”. I believe that
was his way of saying the mix was too safe, boring or lame and it needed
something extreme and beyond textbook logic. One route to explore in this
way is the ability to overdrive various stages of gear from the aforemen-
tioned tubes, transistors and transformers. Thinking from opposite parts
of the spectrum from mild to extreme, a very mild palette change is tape
Between the Speakers 135

saturations or hitting the inputs of a mic/line amp that is transformer based,

thus overdriving the input transformer for more coziness and warmth. But
if you want something a bit more raw and ratty, overdriving the input of
the op-amp-based APIs is honing in on more edge. Many plug-ins have the
ability to do some type of overdrive. The guitars on the Scott Pilgrim tunes
‘Summertime’ and ‘Threshold’ are good examples in regards to overdriv-
ing op-amps. The Waves NLS have the drive parameter, which comes from
the ability to overdrive the line input of consoles coming from tape or Pro
Tools. Typically, overdriving the input requires you then to drop the output
as not to clip the bus or DA convertors. Throughout the recording process
to the end of mixing, there are several stages and places to attain distortion
and saturation. Some of my go-to plug-ins for tone control to extreme dis-
tortion come from Massey Tape Head, Waves Krammer Tape, SoundToys
Decapitator, Radiator, Devil Loc and iZotope’s Trash. All of these have
some nice mild settings to very extreme ones. There’s probably not one
instrument to which I haven’t tried to add some sort of saturation or distor-
tion. The classic for me would be SansAmp, which I still use quite often on
drums, bass, guitar, keys and vocals. The king of SansAmp, hands down,
is Tchad Blake. His recordings and mixes, to me, are always a benchmark
and have unique tonal qualities.
Moving on from the sheer edge of saturation and distortion in the vein
of finding the ceiling, I hold strong to the belief that you can’t inch your
way to it! From compression to the use of delay and reverbs, sometimes
you have to have some extremes of wet and dry to develop emotion. In the
world of compression, I approach dynamic control broadly, from knocking
down some transients and tightening the overall feel to extreme exaggerat-
ing of the attack or sustain. My signal chain for exaggerated compression
is usually placed on a parallel auxiliary. I find it easier to disguise exag-
gerated compression on a parallel channel. Hit the compressor with a high
ratio and substantial gain reduction, hear it work, and then peel back the
gain reduction and ratio a touch. With EQ’ing, don’t look at the knob and
turn until you hear it jump. There’s no magic number, so don’t be surprised
if you are adding 5 dB–12 dB in some places. One thing that took me
some time to figure out was how what’s on paper or in your head can be
completely different from what happens when the elements come together
out of the speakers. Theory versus reality. In the ambient world of reverb,
here’s a way to push for the ceiling. For example, I was mixing a folky tune
with pedal steel playing lead, and the main rhythm was electric guitar. It
was mid-tempo, and I added reverb to the pedal steel. Although I think that
it already had some reverb from pedals and I had added even more, the two
instruments still sounded too close together. So, I just basically turned off
or turned down about 80% of the direct sound of the pedal steel, turned
up the wet reverb signal and added a slight bit of top end. This adjustment
opened up the top end and added astonishing depth and space for both the
slide and electric. An effective approach to find the ceiling of reverb use is
to think of it in terms of explicitly wet or dry. As opposed to adding a blend
of wet and dry sound in parallel, take the processing and add it directly to
the instrument fully wet. Once you find the ceiling of what’s too much,
136 Dean Nelson

you can just reel it back. Keep in mind, however, that sometimes you only
need to push one element to the ceiling. If you push every element, you
lose the use of juxtaposition. It all comes back to the point of arrangement:
aim for a glaring effect of reverb or delay or a crunch of distortion to get
the attention of the listener and continue guiding the ear through the mix.
My approach to developing moods that have been established in the pro-
duction shall be discussed here. For example, if the song is leaning towards
the aggressive side, I might add distortion and extreme compression on
the drums, snare, bass or vocals. If there is something mysterious or unre-
solved, add some small pitch fluctuations in a reverb or delay. I try to play
off the moods of the song, whether they are happy, sad, ironic, pensive,
melancholic, dark or light. These are basically the same adjectives one uses
to describe the moods established by keys and chords of the song. As I have
already mentioned possible options for tonal development, another aspect
to consider is depth of space. In my head, I imagine something like the
textures and the painting technique of impasto, similar to impressionistic
paintings where you can see the ridges, valleys and blurred edges of the
brushstrokes. A way to develop depth and size is with the use of high and
low pass filters along with delays and reverbs. I start by trying to establish
the ambient setting of the piece, hopefully with any natural ambience from
the recording. For example, I’ll bring up the room mics, and use compres-
sion on the drums or any other element that I can extract some natural
ambience out of. I start by considering close and far, foreground or long
shots in composing the dimensional depth aspect. I like to see how close
I can pull elements forward in the mix. One way to do this is by adding top
end with a shelf, somewhere around 6 kHz and above along with a high
pass filter. To push elements towards the background, I’ll use a low pass fil-
ter and roll off the top end. Some basic settings I use to divide up my delays
are 10 ms–30 ms for building up size, 30 ms–250 ms for trailing highlights
of slap, 250 ms and above for the clear intention of delay. My general view
of reverbs are to develop the size and timbre of the ambient space. I’ll
set up a near (less than 1 s, nonlinear reverbs like the AMS-RMX), mid
(1 ms–4 ms) and far (4 ms and above) to divide up the distance from fore-
ground to background. I’m a big fan of plates and chambers. I find myself
using the Rverb by Waves and McDSP’s Revolver quite a bit, along with
Dverb by Avid. It has it has a nice grittiness to it; it works great on tambou-
rines. A mix doesn’t have to be this nice linear dissension into the horizon,
though. For dynamics and boldness you could have a couple of elements
in the foreground and just throw a glockenspiel, pads or tambourine way
in the back drenched in reverb. Treating vocals with a type of backlighting
effect is an interesting approach to developing mood. Think of the contrast
of a tree with the sun setting or rising behind it. The overall light balance is
dusk or dawn. For me, this fits into the mood of the song based on the lyrics
or the key: minor/major or something bittersweet with the use of sevenths
or sus chords. The tree from the front perspective is dark. It’s mostly a sil-
houette, while the sky could have some hues of pink, red, orange and blue.
By brightening the reverb up with a shelf, around 7 kHz, allows the mix to
open and shimmer and illuminates the vocals. To further contrast the bright
Between the Speakers 137

reverb, the vocals could have a bit of the top end rolled off. Another thought
is to take the reverb signal and add a high shelf.
One last way to avoid predictability and to establish ambiguity or unre-
solved type of moods in songs is with asymmetrical panning. When listen-
ing to music, it’s obviously happening over time, so we can thus include it
as a dimension that we are mixing in. For example, in a verse, the right side
could be totally empty, or possibly include some stereo overheads, toms or
hat. But the song only has one lead/rhythm guitar on the left, while in the
chorus the doubled guitar comes in on the right or a keyboard part. That
empty space creates some tension, and the resolve is the balance in left and
right attained as the doubled part comes in at the chorus. For the most, part
of what is going to musically happen in a chorus is to provide some sort of
harmonic resolve. I separate panning into two categories: left, center and
right (LCR) and internal. The idea of only using LCR has a bit to do with
the old Delcon Console that was in Studio B at Ocean Way. It did not have
variable panning, so you were forced to only use hard left, right or both.
I typically start off by panning LCR, so elements like piano and overheads
recorded in stereo will be panned hard left and right. The actual width is
determined by the stereo miking configuration. XYs will have a better cen-
ter image and spaced pairs will have better width. Sometimes I’ll pan the
piano hard left and center, as a piano would be stage left in a mental image.
One distinction you can make for the image or landscape you are trying
to create is to set it up as a band would be on stage at a performance. Or,
make it more free in the sense that things are floating in this ethereal ether
of space. For example, if you have a singer/songwriter with very simple
instrumentation of vocals, acoustic guitar and percussion, you could pan
the acoustic guitar hard right, separating it from the vocals, thus creating
distance and space. This distance could, possibly, be interpreted by the lis-
tener as a loss of intimacy. On the flip side, in line with how you would see
a live performance, the guitar should be panned down the center. For me,
separation between elements creates more of a surreal, bold, dream-like
feeling, and keeping things panned closer together can be more associated
with seeing a live performance. In keeping with the LCR concept, each
portion of left, center and right can be separated into foreground (near),
midground and background. I like to reserve the center part of the spec-
trum for very strong mono elements, such as vocals, bass, kick and snare.
On the left and right, things like a rhythm guitar playing an eighth-note
part can sit with a Rhodes playing chords. One thing to consider when pan-
ning is the rhythm being played. Be cautious of panning similar rhythmic
parts on top of each other, because if they are not dead nuts in the pocket
together it can sound messy. If there is a shaker playing eighth notes and
the hi-hat is doing the same, I would pan them off each other, situating
one on the left and one on the right. Internal panning for me is the space
between center and hard left or right. I’m hesitant to just use every empty
space, because I think it’s a bit like cheating in the sense of not EQ’ing
properly. Also, things can get messy with every spot filled. Watch the clut-
ter. Sometimes when you give the ear connection points from center all
the way out to the outer edges of the stereo spectrum, I believe you lose
138 Dean Nelson

some of the width illusion, because the ear has this straight line to connect.
When there’s information in the center and the next bit exists on the perim-
eter of the spectrum, you can have a better illusion of expansiveness and
width. Keep in mind that there will be information in that space if there
were stereo mic setups used. I try and keep that space for any part that
needs to jump or needs to have a little of the spotlight. For example, toms,
hats or a little lead keyboard part.
In the end, listen, listen, listen (if you are spending most of your time
twisting knobs you probably should take some time to listen and walk
around the mix/console). Sometimes I’ll just pace around the desk for
thirty to forty-five minutes just listening between the speakers in the next
room. Leave room for chance and error, use limitations to drive creativity.
Have your staples that you trust and know to move efficiently throughout
the mix process and grab the listener’s ears by finding the ceiling colored
‘orange’!

My Time Spent with Buck and Beck

As a whole, Beck and Buck 65 allowed for lots of creative experimentation

and exploration. I would say that is a common thread between Buck and
Beck. They both have such an incredible sonic intuition and desire for the
sonic tapestry to align with the story of the song. I spent about two years
with Beck as his in-house engineer and mixer. At this time, he was spend-
ing more time at home with his family and taking a bit of a breather from
touring. Up to that point, for twenty-plus years he had been immersed in
the cycle of making a record and touring, album after album. I was hired
on shortly after he had just finished up the touring cycle for the Modern
Guilt record and was nearing the end of producing the Charlotte Gains-
bourg record IRM. Most of our time together was actually spent work-
ing on other artists’ records: Charlotte Gainsbourg, Jamie Lidell, Stephen
Malkmus, Bat For Lashes and Thurston Moore. We also did some film
and TV projects along with the Record Club series, where I was lucky
enough to have a first go at serious mixing. The Record Club series was
amazing because Beck and various friends would go into the studio and
cover a record in a single day. We would then mix and release a song/video
every week for each song off of the record. The mixing setup was hybrid,
Pro Tools HD through a Neve 5315 w/ 33114 pre/EQs, which is class A/B
discrete. It’s a nice desk, but compared to the 1073’s, it’s just on the ‘ok’
side of things. The first tune I mixed was ‘Grey/Afro’ of the Skip Spence
record OAR. I think my approach was to further develop the effects Jamie
Lidell was doing live. He essentially had a live dub setup, which he was
tweaking with various delay, reverb and effect pedals. I remember using
some GRM plugins to tweak the vocals quite a bit. For the some of the
tunes that Beck did for the movie Scott Pilgrim, the approach was pretty
garagey/speaker ripping, mainly coming from the guitar tones. This con-
cept and sonic angle was developed during the recording phase. From what
I recall, a portion of those tunes were tracked to half-inch 8-track. The
Between the Speakers 139

mix approach was to take what came in from the tracking side and further
that vision. For this, I pushed the midrange of the guitars fairly extreme,
10 dB+ in the 2–3kHz range. It’s a delicate balance because you don’t
want the mix to be fatiguing while still remaining both forceful and edgy.
I recall Beck pushing me further and further with the tones and thinking
“really, I can EQ the guitars that far?!”
In regards to Buck 65, we met just before I moved to Canada from LA.
Once I got to Canada, we worked on a track called ‘Dolores’, and one
thing I remember doing that seemed adventurous was recording a marimba
through a Leslie cabinet. It was really spooky sounding and surely caught
Buck’s ear, as he next asked me to produce/record/mix some of the tunes
off the next record. One tune that comes to mind in particular is ‘Baby
Blanket’, a really dark and sad piece. This is one that was developed from
the recording process. At Revolution Studios in Toronto, they have a really
cool pump organ that we used; one thing we did was to make a loop of
the mechanical noise of the organ, which provides this really creaky and
dark vibe. In mixing this one, we transferred the multitracks to an 8-track
2-inch Studer. In this process, I summed the multitracks down to those 8
tracks and then printed them back into Pro Tools for some final mixing.
Going to tape helped further the warmth, depth and vibe of the final track.
At the of the day, having the opportunity to spend time growing and
evolving with such exceptional artists—and to have their trust with cre-
ative exploration—is both a huge honor and education. Throughout my
career, including my time with Jack Joseph, there are moments of extreme
tutelage and wood shopping. With Jack, I spent months simply listening
and watching, and slowly the trust formed and I moved into engineering
with more responsibilities. But it wasn’t until my time with Beck that I was
placed directly into the hands of the artist and left on my own to mix. You
must become the hands to the artist’s vision yet be guided by your own
intuition and solid foundation.

Discography
Buck 65 Neverlove 2–548156
Beck and Bat For Lashes “Let’s Get Lost” / Eclipse Original Motion Picture Soundtrack
523836-2
Scott Pilgrim 0343–2
Beck: Record Club
Skip Spence ‘Grey/Afro’ https://vimeo.com/9638358
INXS ‘Guns in the Sky’ https://vimeo.com/10245433
‘Never Tear Us Apart’ https://vimeo.com/11991409
‘New Sensation’ https://vimeo.com/10634950
‘Calling All Nations’ https://vimeo.com/12662870
Yanni ‘Santorini’ https://vimeo.com/12996440
‘Keys to Imagination’ https://vimeo.com/13184967
9

Mixing for Markets1

Alex Krotz with Jay Hodgson

Mixing is often discussed—and now taught—as though it were a singu-

lar and straightforwardly linear procedure, with a single definitive output,
namely, ‘the mix’, which is then sent off for client approval and, eventually,
for mastering. But mixing is a far more complicated procedure than this
linear narrative suggests. Mixes are often made, and remade, and remade
again, before they ever make market, and this is done to suit a host of
often competing interests. Moreover, to account for the specific musical
market(s) for which a record is intended, mix engineers will often alter
their approaches in a number of significant ways. A kick drum on a heavy
metal record sounds very different from the kick drum on a jazz record,
for instance; and with pop, rock, EDM and folk records, the vocals sit in
very different places in their respective mixes. Indeed, a galaxy of unique
sonic details marks a mix for one market over another, and every mix engi-
neer adjusts their technique in light of those details. Few sources provide
concrete information about the adjustments they make, however, beyond
simply suggesting that they do so to suit the demands of the various mar-
kets they address by their work.
What follows is based on a simple premise: that understanding the dif-
ferent approaches a mix engineer takes to the same sonic material, but
intended for different markets, will broaden our understanding of modern
mixing per se. Moreover, it is my contention that only a successful work-
ing mix engineer can provide us with the sort of concrete and authentic
detail that is needed to address this concern. As such, I contacted Alex
Chuck Krotz, an engineer who works at Toronto’s celebrated Noble Street
Studios. Krotz’s credits include work on tracks by some of music’s most
successful acts at present, including Drake, Three Days Grace, Walk Off
The Earth, Billy Talent, The Trews, Mother Mother and Shawn Mendes, to
name only a few. I interviewed him on his creative practice as a mix engi-
neer, his thoughts about mixing in general, and about some of the different
things he might do to mix the same sonic material, but if it were intended
for different markets. He was provided with the transcript, which he edited,
and he supplied me with numerous audio examples to help concretize some
of the points he makes along the way. These examples can be accessed
by following the appropriate links at http://www.hepworthhodgson.com,

140
Mixing for Markets 141

and they should be auditioned where mentioned in the text. In doing this,
I have done my very best to let the artist speak directly to an academic
readership about his craft. It is my sincere hope that what follows—which
I would call a methodological hybrid of ethnographic interview work and
straightforward musicological analysis—models a viable method for aca-
demics to draw successful artists directly into academic discussions about
their work.

How would you define ‘mixing’ for non-specialists?

Mixing is balancing all elements in a track, and giving each track its own
place. At the same time, it’s guiding listeners through a song, dictating
what they should hear, precisely when you want them to hear it, to help
bring out the emotion of the song.

How is mixing different from other tasks

in record production?

Mixing is different in that it is a lot more technical than many other tasks.
When you mix, you are trying to tease out the emotions in a track. The pro-
ducer makes decisions like, “Let’s play this chord here”, and “Let’s arrange
the song this way”. The editors edit it, and the mastering engineer masters
it, all to ensure the production sounds good as a final product. It is the
mixer, though, who takes all of the elements the producers and engineers
and musicians throw into the stew and makes it musically and technically
coherent and pleasing. It’s the mix engineer’s job to make a track ‘sound
good’, both from a technical and aesthetic standpoint. And you can’t make
a record without mixing, of course. So I’d say it’s one of the most essential
tasks in record production.

How do you learn to do it?

Engineers learn to mix by ‘playing’. You hear something, and you think,
“How can I change that? How can I make it better? How can I make it dif-
ferent?” You say, “What can I do with these sounds so they make sense as
a mix and as a song? And what tools do I need to make that happen?” Then
you just ‘play’ with the tracks until you get them to sound more or less
how you want. That’s the only way to learn, in my opinion—by playing,
and making a lot of mistakes, and doing a lot of things wrong, and learning
from it all. At the same time, you should be watching people who are good
at mixing and learning from what they do. When you watch people work,
you might hear some things you like and some things you don’t like. So
you’re watching and you think, “I kind of like this, and I don’t like that”,
and then you can adapt what you see to your own way of mixing things. In
the end, if I’m doing what I should be while I’m watching the pros work,
142 Alex Krotz with Jay Hodgson

which is ‘playing around’ with some mixes on my own, I’m going to learn
to mix tracks in my own unique way, even if I’m basing much of what I do
on the things I see and hear the pros do. And that’s what makes every mixer
different. It’s how every mix engineer eventually finds their own voice.

In your opinion, do any particular talents suggest

that an engineer might be good at mixing?

I don’t know if there’s any particular talents that might indicate someone
would be good at mixing. That said, you have to want to do it. You have to
want to mix to get good at it. And that’s not as common as you might think.
Mixing can be super hard, and it’s often long and drawn out as a process.
Unnecessarily so, in fact, given the wrong client! People might initially
think they’d like to be a mix engineer, but after their first few sessions, or
after they deal with their first difficult client, they’re not so interested in
becoming mix engineers anymore! You have to want to be a mix engineer
despite how grueling it is.

Is mixing usually considered its own unique phase

of record production? Or do most producers ‘mix
as you go’?

It’s a bit of both, to be honest. The way that I work, and the way of working
I’ve been around most in the last few years, is ‘mixing as you go’. It’s a
very popular way of working because you can keep throwing things at the
canvas—you can retain an experimental approach to arrangement, without
having to fully commit to anything—knowing that, if you change your
mind later, you can always just delete whatever you added to the arrange-
ment the day before. That said, you still have to make the production sound
good, you have to make it sound like something that gets the musicians
inspired to do more to it, so you mix as you go.
In a lot of ways, you actually have no choice but to mix as you go. If
you record a guitar too high a level, for example, and you don’t mix it into
the track a bit before moving on to the next track, then you won’t hear
anything but that blaring electric guitar when you listen. And so much of
production is listening back and making decisions. So you’ll have to mix
that guitar a bit, make it fit into the production, before you can move on.
Then the way you mix it may inspire you to go back and record the part
a little differently, or do different things here and there. But that’s part of
the production process. Things are a lot more open now, even if you know
precisely where you want to get to going into a project.
Another thing I’d add is that part of production in general is to figure out
where there are holes in the frequency spectrum. You have to ‘mix as you
go’ to hear that sort of thing.
Of course, this all said, once you’re done with the engineering phase,
and all that ‘mixing as you go’, then there is still the proper, standard
Mixing for Markets 143

‘mixing’ phase. In this case, you know you’re not adding any more ele-
ments. So you’re more interested in making all the elements you’ve got
fit together and make emotional sense in relation to the song. Sometimes
that’s done with the producer in the room, dictating what the mix engineer
should do. Other times, the producer just hands off the session file to a mix
engineer, with maybe a few words about where they’d like the production
to go, and leave everything else up to the mix engineer. In that case, the
mix engineer is expected to do a bit of subtractive arranging. They might
mute some tracks, move other tracks around, maybe add some delays and
phase effects here and there. They could say, “it would be cool with delays
here”, and they get creative with it on their end as another stage of the
production. At that point, it’s another phase, though. Generally the mixer
is provided with a ‘rough mix’ that the producer is happy with so he knows
the overall sound of the track, such as distorted vocals in the verses then
big clean reverb vocals on the chorus. This is guide for the mixer, but
doesn’t mean he has to or will do the same things. He can take some liber-
ties but at least has a starting point.

When mixing is its own phase, there’s usually an

expectation that producers and musicians will be able
to make ‘mix notes’ or request ‘revisions’. What is, or
has, this revision process been like for you?

The revision process is funny. Sometimes you get one note for revision,
and sometimes you get a hundred. It always varies. It just depends on who’s
on the project, and how good you are at capturing whatever it is they said
they wanted when they handed off the session file, and how much your
creative tastes match up with what they like.
Generally, there’s no set person, or agency in the process, who gives
mix engineers their notes. It really depends on the project. Sometimes the
producer has a bunch of notes. Sometimes it’s the band who has the notes.
And sometimes it’s the management team that’s got a million notes for
you. So many people hear the mixes you submit, and often a lot of different
people will get a say in approving mixes, so there’s lots of opportunity for
people to disagree with the decisions you make while you’re mixing. But
usually, over time, as you get to work with people on a more regular basis,
the revision process becomes less and less drawn out—your clients will
learn to trust you a bit more with every mix they approve. And if you’re
willing to listen to their notes, and really honestly try to deliver the mix
exactly as they want it, and you don’t force your vision of the song on
them, they will trust you even more in the end!
In my case, I usually mix a track and then the producer listens. They’ll
have some notes before anyone else involved in the project ever hears the
mix. When I get their notes, I say, “Great!” It’s their project, after all, so
what do I care if they think, say, the snare should be a dB up or down,
and maybe the drums could be a bit louder in the chorus? I just do the
revisions and send the track back to them. They usually approve, or maybe
144 Alex Krotz with Jay Hodgson

have another note or two, but then the mix goes off to the band for their
approval. The band will have some notes, usually, which are generally not
as useful as the producer’s notes. Usually band members just want to hear
more of themselves—that’s the honest truth! You might get a note from the
guitar player, saying something like, “I want my guitar louder.” Then the
keyboard player chimes in, saying, “I want my keyboard louder.” And then
the drummer says “I can’t hear my kick!” The revision process becomes a
bit of balancing act, at that point. Part of being a mixer is dealing with cli-
ents in these situations; there’s a client management aspect to the process.
In fact, here is where the mix engineer might actually ‘overrule’ a mix
note. But you have to be really careful how you do it. You have to over-
rule musicians, often, because it’s just not practical to raise the volume or
profile of tracks any more than you’ve already done, but they just don’t
understand that. Sometimes, and this is being honest, the way to ‘overrule’
a mix note is to tell a little lie, saying, “Yep! I did that. Great ears!” And
you literally did nothing to the mix, but all of a sudden they like it better.
This makes me wonder if, sometimes, mix notes aren’t just a way for musi-
cians to feel like they’re staying involved in the process, because a lot of
musicians can feel like the project is ‘out of their hands’ once it leaves the
tracking stage.
Also, if there are just too many revisions to deal with, you have to ask,
“Was I the right guy to mix this? Maybe I shouldn’t be the guy to mix.
Maybe you should try another engineer.” That does happen quite a bit,
actually. Engineers have to say, “Maybe I’m not the right person for this”,
a fair bit. It doesn’t happen on lower budget projects as much, because
most projects blow their budget on the bare minimum. But it happens on
projects with larger budgets as well. It’s not always the mixer who says
that either. On other occasions, the producer or band realize after a few
rounds of mix revisions that “this guy just isn’t getting our vision”, and
they kindly say thank you and move on to another mixer.

In your experience, how many revisions will a track

typically undergo before it’s finished?

That really depends on the production. A project I just did, for example,
was recorded in one day. And we did a ‘rough mix’ as we were recording
it. At the end of the day, we had a rough mix, and everything was edited.
Then we did a ‘mix session’ on a later day. The band then had a couple
notes—they wanted to try harmonies in a couple different spots, mute the
guitar here and there, and that was it—and then the track was off for mas-
tering. But that’s an exceptionally quick turnaround. And it’s rare that a
project gets done like that without having some corners cut as a result of
everything being so rushed.
On the flip side, I’m working on a project right now where I’ve submit-
ted four different mixes, each of which was supposed to be a final mix.
Two other engineers mixed it, before I got the gig, plus there were ‘rough
mixes’ made along the way before it even reached mix stage. And now it’s
Mixing for Markets 145

being sent off to another mix engineer, who will produce separate mixes
for the single releases. Once we get those mixes back, I’ll have to remix
the rest of the album to match balances with them! These tracks have been
mixed so often, now, that you just know there has to be a very sizeable
budget involved! And if you can afford to do it, why wouldn’t you? Why
not labor over your tracks until everyone involved feels like they sound as
good as possible? Once a track’s been released, especially when a band’s
operating at the very upper echelon of the industry, you can’t just turn
around and say, “Thanks for buying our album but we’ve decided we don’t
like the mixes anymore, so we’re going to have the album remixed and
then we’ll re-release it!” Once it’s released, you have to live with it. And
your reputation depends on what you release. So I understand why produc-
ers and bands are very, very careful about what they put out there, and why
the mix process is sometimes very, very drawn out as a result.

The Mixing Process

How do you usually start a mix?

It depends on the song, really. But let’s just say, for this example, that
it’s a rock mix. There’ll be drums, bass, guitars, vocals, a few ‘arrange-
ment’ layers, some rhythm tracks and guitar leads . . . that kind of a setup.
Given this, I would start with the drums. They’re always the loudest thing
in the mix—aside from the vocal, of course—and, from personal experi-
ence, I just know where they should sit. In fact, drums are really important
for me. I like big kick drums, and big snare sounds, and tom sounds, for
the most part. Because of that, I always want to make those tracks sound
really, really good. Once I do that, then I’ll fit the bass in with the kick, so
they go together. Then I’ll work on the guitars, and work on fitting them
around the drums and the bass.
In general, I start and solo the drums. Then I add the bass in, not lis-
tening to anything else for the most part. Then I’ll add rhythm guitars.
I’ll work on those a little bit. Then I’ll add the vocals in, and how they fit
with everything else. It’s worth noting, too, that each time you add another
track, you’ll have to go back and change your treatments on everything
else. It’s a balancing act: add a bit over here, you need to take away a bit
over there.

So you start by soloing particular mix elements, then?

Generally, yes. If you try to mix with everything going at once, at least to
start with, you’ll find there’s just too much to listen to. The process gets
overwhelming really quickly then. I recommend starting with whatever is
the focus of the track, and working outward from there. Get the important
or core tracks out of the way first. Then you can fine-tune the details.
I’m privileged enough that I mostly work on an analog console. I know
generally where on my meters my kick drums should sit, so I can fit
146 Alex Krotz with Jay Hodgson

everything around it without eating up all of my headroom. The key here is

gain structuring, and making sure you’re not going to blow up everything
when you add the vocal on top. I worked hard to know where I want things
to sit, in fact. It took a lot of practice. But now I can dial my kick drum into
a particular level and tone, and I know everything will hang more or less
fine around it. It’s like a foundation stone, and I build around it.
Once I have a basic balance in place, and I feel like the track is really
grooving, then I can get creative and worry about aesthetics and emotional
content. This may mean I throw things slightly out balance here and there,
for effect. But that’s the emotional part I was talking about, where you’re
directing the listener’s attention and feelings to help convey the underlying
meaning of a song.

Let’s say it’s a jazz session, though. Are you still going to
start the process the same way? Are you going to start with
a kick and get your balance?
Not necessarily. Sometimes, if it’s a jazz record or in a similar genre, I’ll
still work on the drums first and work outwards from there. However, in
that case, I’m not worried so much about where the kick drum is sitting
dynamically. In fact, on a jazz record, you often barely hear the kick drum;
you hear the snare and the cymbals more than you hear the kick, because
the overheads and room mics are doing most of the work. In that way, mix-
ing is a bit ‘looser’. With rock, you have to be so careful about levels and
headroom because you know, at the end of the day, the mix is going to be
squeezed for every last bit of dynamic space the mastering engineer can
manage. So with jazz you know you have room to maybe sacrifice some
level in favor of a deeper tone or feel. But you still need to balance things,
and the kick is a solid place to start.
In fact, with genres like jazz, mixing entails a lot more trial and error
for me. That’s nothing inherent in the genre, though. I just don’t mix a lot
of jazz records, so I don’t really have any common practice techniques that
I rely on. I’m sure if I mixed jazz a lot, I would have a fairly rigid method
worked out for it. Given how important I just said the ride cymbals are in
jazz, I might start there.
In general, regardless of what genre I’m mixing for, I want to figure
out what’s important in the mix. If it’s a solo instrument that is going to
be really loud, then I hang all the mix elements around it, both in terms of
their level and tone.
For a pop mix, on the other hand, there’s a bit of a formula at work.
Certain obvious things need to be where they need to be. In this case, I’ll
start with a big bass-heavy kick drum. The bass is really important for me,
so I tend to start mixing there, whatever the music I’m working on. This
is partially preference, but it’s also a technical thing. Mixes get messy and
overwhelming, really fast, in the bass region. Bass pushes a lot of energy,
and often you don’t even consciously hear it doing so. Bass frequencies are
really big waveforms, and take a lot of energy to propagate, and take up
Mixing for Markets 147

a huge part of the speaker load. If you take a massive kick drum and then
add a bass guitar on top of that, and then a bass synth, or any other bass
element you might add, your bottom end will quickly blow up and get out
of hand. A mix where the engineer hasn’t filtered the bass can easily make
your 2-Bus compression really go insane, and that’s going to compromise
some level and your mix will sound all the quieter and muffled because of
it. So that’s why I like to start with the bass, regardless of genre. Almost
on reflex, I’ll start by rolling some bottom end off a bass, because I want
the kick drum to push the absolute bottom frequencies of a mix, and then
I will fit the bass guitar around that. It depends on the mix of course, but
that’s where I like to start. It is all about organizing the frequency spectrum
and giving each element a place.

Have you ever hung a mix around the vocal rather

than the kick?
Not so much. I have done it in the past, though. And I have seen other
mixers do it. And I’ve met and interacted with a lot of engineers who say
that’s their way of doing things.

It seems like that process would be similar, but also very

different, from what you just described. Can you take us
through your impression of a ‘vocals first’ mix process?
I don’t think it’s necessarily a conscious decision. It’s just one of those
things where that’s what that particular mixer does, probably because that’s
just how they learned to do it. They may have come up being trained that
way, being around people who did it that way. They consider the vocals the
most important part of the mix right from the start, and they work in a way
that, in their opinion, best serves that notion.
Also, it’s worth noting that a lot of ‘vocals first’ mix methods aren’t
necessarily ‘vocals first’. Often, they will treat the vocals relative to some
other important mix element, so they can get levels that work. Especially
with pop material, for instance, you’ll see a lot of mix engineers start that
process by focusing on the vocals in relation to the kick drum. Once they
get those tracks balanced, they fit everything else around them. And that’s
because the vocals and the kick drum are both the most important ele-
ments of a pop mix. If you listen to the pop mixes, that’s most likely what
you’re going to hear being emphasized.
I can see how that works, and I agree with it. It’s just not how I do
things personally. There’s nothing wrong with that sort of diversity, in fact.
There’s no single correct way to mix a record. It’s only the results that
matter. Some people might say that my method is ‘backwards’, because
once I drop in my vocals I have to go back and tweak all the tracks to
accommodate the vocals. The problem is that if I were to start with a vocal
track, I wouldn’t personally know where it should sit. I need to hear the rest
of the track to decide where the vocals should go. Is it going to be a really
 148 Alex Krotz with Jay Hodgson

loud mix? Is it going to be really bright, as a whole? I need to answer these

sorts of questions before I start on my vocals. But, again, that’s just my
personal way of doing things. And I do things that way not for any meta-
physical reasons. I just ‘came up’ around engineers who mixed that way.

Part Three: Mixing for Markets

When you talk about how mixing reinforces the emotional

content of a song, it reminds me a bit of the way that some
cinematographers explain their craft. Would it be fair to say
that what you do, when you’re mixing, is similar to what
a cinematographer does when they decide how to shoot a
scene?
I do think mixing is similar to cinematography. Mixing is directing the
audio image, making the track flow. The arrangement is largely determined
during production, before a track ever gets to the mixing stage, but as a
mixer you still have to work on how the track flows, so listeners feel dif-
ferent things in different parts of the song. Mixing is subtle in that regard.
If you want a verse to feel very intimate, for instance, you will probably
want the vocal to be very clean, then, and maybe add some subtle reverb
and delay to enhance it a bit. When the chorus comes, and the song needs
to feel very aggressive all of a sudden, you might distort the vocal slightly,
and even double it. Maybe you’ll add a lot of reverb, too, because you want
it to feel less ‘up close and intimate’ than in the verse. Those are the kind of
‘cinematography’ things I was talking about, which can add support for the
emotional content of a song, and which subconsciously guide the listener
through the song in the process.
Another obvious example that I can think of, right off the top of my
head, has to do with the way you treat screamed
vocals in a mix. If a screaming vocal is mixed
Download and Listen to sound really present and right in your face,
to track 9.1 that’s going to produce a very different emo-
tion than if those same vocals are mixed back in
the mix. The mix with the present vocals is going
to feel much more aggressive than the one that’s mixed, so
there’s a bit of distance between the listener and the vocalist. You’re going
to have a different emotional connection with the song, given each mix.
At the same time that you’re supporting the emotional content of a song
through your mixing, you might also generate some emotional content of
your own—use mixers to make listeners feel tension, relief, excitement
or any other emotion that’s available and you want listeners to feel. The
guitar part in a particular section of a song might sound really interesting,
for instance, so you try to make sure listeners hear it through your mixing.
The guitar part could be going the whole time, in fact, and it’s only in a
particular place in the arrangement where you want to make it the main
focus of the mix. So you bring it forward dynamically, maybe brighten it
Mixing for Markets 149

a bit, and then it sticks out of the mix all of a sudden at that point. Then
the vocals are back in, so you bring the guitar part back down in the mix.

Do you do different things when you’re preparing a mix

for different markets? If so, can you give some specific
examples? How might you treat the kick drum differently if
it’s metal vs. pop vs. rock? What different things might you
do to the vocals given the same genres?
There are definitely things that you do differently when you’re mixing
records for different markets. I’ve already talked about how I would mix a
rock versus a jazz record. The jazz market doesn’t want to hear a ‘thump,
thump’ underneath everything, like the rock market does. Jazz fans want
to hear the intricacies of the recorded performances. Let’s face it, jazz
musicians are often amazing at what they do. So their fans don’t want to
hear a four-on-the-floor kick drum pattern the whole time. That would be
totally distracting. So I don’t emphasize the bottom of the kick drum the
way I would in other genres. Sometimes, in fact,
jazz drummers don’t even play the kick.
Definitely, there are lots of things I do dif- Download and Listen
ferently when I’m working on different genres. to tracks 9.2 and 9.3
Let’s start with rock. Rock bands and rock
mixes have ‘big’ kick drums. The kick drum is
usually prominent in a rock mix. The snare is big and ‘snappy’,
the guitars are a wall of sound around the kick and snare, and the vocal is
in the center, too, but it’s not stupidly loud like it might be in pop. The vocal
track is there, and you can understand it. But it’s not EQ’d overly bright. In
fact, it can be dull, or can have a megaphone effect on it, or it can even be
distorted in rock. The market is fine with each of those different treatments,
whereas in jazz those effects are often out of the question.
Of course, pop is often the ‘flip side’ of the rock coin. The kick drum in
pop mixes doesn’t usually have a ‘tick’ to it, like it does in rock, but it’s still
very prominent and what we engineers sometimes call ‘woofy’. The kick
drum kind of drives the pop arrangement, in fact; the whole track is often
based on the sound of the kick drum. Sometimes there isn’t even a bass guitar
or bass synth in a pop mix, because the kick drum fills out all the low frequen-
cies, and this is especially true when the kick is just
an 808 with a very drawn-out decay.
So the kick is really prominent in pop. Download and Listen
There’s often not so many guitars these days, to track 9.4
but there are a lot of synths that you need to
fit around the mix. The vocal is stupidly loud and
really bright, with lots of reverb and lush effects. Finally,
the vocal is the center point of any pop mix, whereas in rock it’s not.
With metal, on the other hand, you still want ‘big’ guitars. Mixing in that
genre is even less about the vocal, often because the singers are scream-
ing and you can’t understand what they’re saying half of the time anyway.
The vocal track is not really loud in metal, though because of the screaming
150 Alex Krotz with Jay Hodgson

and shouting it can often seem like it’s loud. It’s present, of course, and you
can hear it in the mix, but it’s not the same level of loudness as in a pop mix,
for instance. The kick drum in metal is not as big as a rock kick drum, but
it’s very ‘ticky’. Half the time the metal performers are playing very fast and
intricate kick drum parts, so the drum has to be ‘ticky’ or else you aren’t
going to hear those intricacies. You can’t have a big kick drum going on when
the arrangement calls for thirty-second notes—it just isn’t going to translate.
Then you go to jazz or blues, and mixing decisions become more about
balancing all the parts in the track together, as a whole. There’s no big kick
drum as a center point, and there’s no big vocal as a center point, in those
genres. Instead you have to feature everything, in a way, and bring individ-
ual tracks forward only during solo sections.

Are there any other things you might do differently when

you’re mixing tracks for different markets?
Actually, I’ll probably choose different samples to swap out or pad the
drums. I have ‘rock’ samples that are very ‘big’ and that sound like the quint-
essential rock kick drum and snare. For metal, I have very different samples,
though. Those are very ‘ticky’ and ‘attacky’, and they have less ‘body’ than
the rock samples, because the metal samples need to cut through the wall
of guitar shredding that tends to characterize metal. And for pop, I have yet
another set of samples. With pop, in fact, you can use electronic or totally
sequenced kits. So the samples you use for a pop record often vary from
track to track. But in general, my pop samples tend to be a bit more ‘boomy’
than the rock and metal samples, and less ‘ticky’ or ‘attacky’ overall.

What about vocal treatments? You mentioned vocals and

level before, but what about how you process vocal tracks?
The way you approach mixing vocals, and the default vocal chains you
use, will be different for different markets. The pop ideal is very bright,
very compressed and very ‘in your face’ throughout the entire track. The
rock ideal is slightly less compressed, less ‘in your face’, and isn’t quite
as bright as in pop and has more grit to it and can be dirtier. The modern
country ideal is very bright, very ‘in your face’ like in pop, so it’s kind of
a mixture of the pop and rock ideals.

Part Four: The Future of Mixing

How long do you think the current model of mixing can

survive in the present market?
I think mixing is going to suffer a very slow death, if at all. The big engi-
neers that people actually hear about, I mean, for the most part, the most
famous engineers are mix engineers. When people talk about record pro-
duction, you only really hear about important producers and mix engineers
Mixing for Markets 151

these days. There just aren’t that many tracking engineers making head-
lines lately. They exist, don’t get me wrong. But for the most part, mix
engineers are more of a going concern in the industry.
Take a look at the back of a record in your collection. It will probably say,
‘Produced by so-and-so’ and ‘Mixed by so-and-so’. But who knows who
engineered it? A record’s cover doesn’t usually advertise who engineered
it. The fact that it often advertises the person, or persons, who mixed it tells
you all you need to know about the status of mix engineers in today’s market.
So, yeah, I think mixing is going to survive for a long while still, even
as money gets tighter and tighter. Sure, a lot of people record in their bed-
rooms nowadays. But they still want what they record to sound good. And
they’ll pay to have their records mixed by someone to make sure that it
does! That’s where ‘bedroom producers’ seem to spend their money now.
Then they try to get it mastered by whomever they can find, or they’ll pay
the mix engineer they hired a little extra money to have them slap a few
things on the stereo bus and ‘master’ it. With mixing, almost everyone
understands that it’s something they have to get done, and that it can make
a major difference in the way their record sounds. So ‘bedroom producers’
these days usually won’t pay money to rent a studio—and the cost of rent-
ing a studio for a day, even, can easily, and quickly, quadruple what it costs
to hire a mix engineer to see a track through to completion!—but they will
put their money into mixing. And that seems to be consistent.
Anybody can buy Logic or Pro Tools, and sequence and track some
sounds. But they probably don’t know how to make those sounds sit well
together, sound optimal as a group. And they almost certainly won’t have
the experience to know how to make the mix decisions they make best
serve the emotional content of a song. They’re usually too fixated on just
ensuring that their mix is commercially viable to worry about aesthetics,
since so much expertise goes into producing even just a basic balance.
They need a mix engineer, and they know it. And because of that, I think
the current model of mixing, where you have a separate mix engineer and
a separate phase of the production process dedicated to mixing, will con-
tinue on strong for at least the next little while.

What, if any, general changes have happened in

mixing since you started?
There’s two different facets of this question that I could address. The first
one has to do with sonics in general. Has anything changed about mixing
sonically since I started? The answer is of course yes . . . the sonics are
always changing and evolving in mixing!
You hardly notice it while you’re doing it, to be honest. Sonics just
slowly evolve, as everything does. For a while, you’re doing things one
way, but then you get sick of doing things that way, or you hear a better
way when you’re listening to the radio, coming home from a session at
some ungodly early hour of the morning. So you slowly start to make your
kick drum, say, ‘tickier’ when you’re mixing. You get positive feedback on
those mixes, and the next thing you know, that’s how you treat your kicks.
152 Alex Krotz with Jay Hodgson

The same thing will happen with how you treat your vocals, your guitars,
your bass. It’s really just a question of developing as an artist. You can’t
just deliver the same balances over and over again, or pretty soon your
mixes sound like they were in a different era. But it’s a slow process. And
engineers tend not to be particularly conscious of the changes they’re mak-
ing to their craft as they’re happening. They just know that they want to
keep growing as artists, so they continually fine-tune their craft. And this
happens at an industry level. So the sound of mixes is constantly evolving
as individual mix engineers evolve the sound of the mixes they produce. It
goes hand in hand with artists developing their sound as well.
Then there’s the technical aspect of mixing. Things have changed tech-
nically, almost to a point where the way you mix now is entirely different
from how you mixed even just five years ago. Or it can be, depending on
which technology you decide to use. Plug-ins have gotten better at doing
the things they’re supposed to do, for example. That’s a big one in the last
ten years. In fact, some of the emulation plug-ins have gotten so good
that even the most stubbornly out-of-the-box engineers have gone almost
entirely in the box in the last few years. That’s definitely a game changer.

And, then, those changes in tools and techniques change

the way mixes sound in turn?
Of course. Engineers check out new plug-ins all the time. Sometimes
they’re impressed. It can be like a ‘Eureka!’ moment, in fact, stumbling
on a plug-in that does something exactly the way you’d always hoped a
plug-in would. You play around with this new thing for a few minutes,
immediately realize its potential, and then they you start using it on every-
thing for a while. And the process goes on and on and on. . . . The process
of discovery never ends, really, so long as there are mix engineers who
believe they can improve their craft.
That said, people do still like mixing in traditional ways. People still like
mixing on consoles. Consoles aren’t really going anywhere anytime soon,
even if you need a bigger budget to work on one. But the older model isn’t
as popular as it used to be. People realize, now, that whether you work out
of the box or in the box is mostly a question of personal preference, and
even though each way of working has its pros and cons, they’ll both get
you equally professional results. There’s no need to work on a console, is
what I’m trying to say. But a lot of producers and engineers definitely still
want to work on a console, and they see the benefit of doing so. In general,
though, I think that a large-scale move to in-the-box workflows is a big
part of what’s changed, or is changing, in mixing these days, even if the
out of the box remains strong. And you can hear this change in the way that
mixes generally sound.

Note
1 In this chapter, the word ‘market’ could be interchanged with the word ‘genre’.
10

Mixing In/and Modern Electronic

Music Production
Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

Historically, the production of electronic music has tended to be viewed

through the lens of traditional pop/rock production techniques. While this
may be fine in certain circumstances, upon closer inspection it becomes
clear that many traditional practices employed by producers working in
a pop/rock paradigm can take on very different definitions when used in
the context of modern electronic music production. These potential dif-
ferences in approach have, for many years, been underrepresented in aca-
demic research exploring concepts in audio engineering. In turn, this trend
has resulted in a pedagogical gap in the design of teaching and learning
programs where electronic music production is concerned.
The similarities and differences between the disciplines of traditional
audio production and that of modern electronic music production are
beginning to garner more attention academically. However, for the pur-
poses of this book, we wished to focus on one area in particular, namely,
mixing audio. Moreover, we felt strongly that it was of great importance to
invite artists working in the area to join the academic discussion directly.
As such, what follows comprises an ethnography of sorts, specifically
focused on mixing approaches as discussed by electronic music producers.
Our sample included numerous nationally and internationally recognized
DJs and producers, whose work as musicians and composers we’ve long
admired. We asked each participant in the study to supply biographies,
which can be found at the beginning of the book under ‘Chapter 10: Inter-
viewee Biographies’. Our ultimate hope is that the following conversation
will highlight which aspects of mixing electronic music are shared with
traditional instrumental production and which aspects seem unique. We
leave it to future researchers to follow up on these leads.

How would you define ‘mixing’?

Rick Bull Mixing involves finding the unifying elements (har-

 (Deepchild/Acharné/ monic, melodic, dynamic) within a piece of sound/
  Concubine): music, and ensuring an internal coherence and synergy
between these elements, to produce a finished work
ready for mastering. Mixing is an essentially intentional

153
154 Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

yet artificial process of engineering a physical ‘space’,

power, dynamic, and ebb and flow, within any given
work. It’s a process of trimming some of the errant,
or distracting, or undesirable elements in a recording,
while referencing others, to reflect the intention of the
author. Mixing is a great and powerful sonic fiction,
placing a listener or dancer within an imagined sonic
terrain, in such a way that the recording process might
become more or less transparent, thereby allowing the
listener to best inhabit the desired sonic imagination of
the author. The goal of a successful mix is generally to
transmute musical elements into a seemingly effortless
musical narrative, and to use tools such as EQ, com-
pression, panorama and relative volume to best support
many multiple voices within an evolving audio nar-
rative. Mixing seeks to create the illusion (generally)
of transparency, when often it is far from transparent.
Smoke, mirrors, voodoo, silence, tension and release . . .

Adam Marshall I’d define it in two ways, depending on the context. First,
  (Graze/New Kanada): mixing in a production sense, I’d define it in the tradi-
tional way: of arranging and recording certain settings
during production or final mix down. Second, I’d also see
mixing in a DJ-specific sense, where it’s a live perfor-
mance of in-the-moment matching, cutting, fading and
riding two (or more) records during a DJ performance.
The main difference between the two would be that mix-
ing in traditional production practice is usually a tightly
controlled and planned operation, with a specific desired
outcome, whereas mixing in a DJ sense is more of an
in-the-moment experience where a lot of the magic (or
chaos) happens (or occurs) when taking chances.

Pierre Belliveau Mixing is finding the middle ground for all tracks to
  (Gone Deville): live together without stepping on each other too much.
Mixing is about giving each layer its own space within
the spectrum.

Noah Pred Mixing is the process of balancing, blending and merging

  (Noah Pred/False multiple sonic elements into a coherent whole that
  Image/Concubine): fits the desired character of the producer—be it crys-
talline, murky or anything in between.

Phil France Mixing is the stage of the process that you come to
  (Phil France/ when you’ve got a track sounding as good as you can,
  Cinematic Orchestra): before mastering.

Ryan Chynces (Rion C): Mixing is the art of combining distinct layers of sound,
or sound recordings, to produce a unified whole.

TJ Train (Room 303 I’d say it’s blending different instruments and sounds
  /Night Visions): together to allow the space for each instrument to be
heard both independently and together.
Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music 155

Andy Cole (LuvJam): Mixing is balancing audio elements to create the per-
fect output, where everything is clear—an audible
balance of sounds created purposely for your desired
audience or media output.

How did you learn to mix?

Rick Bull: In my case, I’m still learning to mix. At first, my tech-

nique was rather robust, apologetic and compensatory,
or additive. After years of trial and error, my approach
has become rather more robust, reductive (cutting the
fat, trimming the errant frequencies, keeping things
simple, direct and confident) and physical. Initially,
most of my mixes with were ‘out of the box’ (through
analog consoles and mixers), but over the years I’ve
learned a more varied series of approaches. Assets
I’ve found along the way include mixing on a vari-
ety of monitors—a combination of high-end monitors,
ear buds, computer speakers and in different rooms to
compensate for less-than-ideal studio situations. Ulti-
mately, a mix is about placing a work in a given con-
text (e.g., a nightclub or for home listening) and, with
this in mind, it’s been really useful to ‘test and trial’
my mixes in many different physical spaces. For exam-
ple, as I learned early on, a radio mix might sound
awful compared to a club mix in a certain genre. I’ve
learned a lot through mixing in compromised situa-
tions—e.g., mixing a club-track in a small flat at low
volume versus in a studio situation at higher levels.
I’ve mixed some of my best bottom-heavy records
using my fingers, physically resting on a monitor cone,
at super-low volume. Ultimately, I’ve been best served
realizing that sound is fundamentally a physical expe-
rience, and one best approached playfully, boldly and
intuitively, rather than academically.

Pierre Belliveau: I learned through personal research, investing time

and numerous discussions with other professionals.
Mostly, though, the most important thing you can do is
train your ears and learn to trust them.

Noah Pred: As with most of my technical expertise, I’m primarily

self-taught. Most of this learning occurred before the
advent of online tutorial videos, so I was truly on my
own. I learned through a great deal of trial and error,
assisted only by the occasional industry magazine or
instruction manual.

Adam Marshall: Everything I’ve learned is self-taught. When I was

growing up, there was not a lot of direct education to
be had in producing electronic music—but as a DJ,
I knew what I was aiming for and tried to learn the
156 Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

skills to allow myself to create tracks that I, as a DJ,

would want to play out in the clubs. I’d say in the early
stages I learned the most from my peers.

Ryan Chynces: I came to music production from being a DJ, and there-
fore my mixing sensibility was informed by combining
records in a live setting. I taught myself to mix in soft-
ware such as Ableton and Adobe Audition, with the help
of books on the topic, and lots of trial and error.

Phil France: I picked up as much as I could from studio time spent

working on various albums and projects with the Cine-
matic Orchestra and working on various other albums
and projects. I’ve still got a lot to learn about engineer-
ing, production and mixing. However, instead of trying to
know it all before you start, a couple of people I respect a
great deal mentioned to me that it is okay to figure things
out as you’re going along. So that’s what I do.

TJ Train: I’m self-taught. When I was starting out, there was

a ton of information out there on spectrum analysis,
EQ’ing, compression, etc., including online books and
videos. I used those and other resources.

Andy Cole: From an early age, I have always been aware of the
balance of sound. Actually, my first experiences with
mixing developed through learning to DJ mix—sim-
ple fades, panning and balancing bass/treble/high
layers. I then further developed my mixing through
my television work, where I would layer sound-FX
onto my motion graphics. I learned not to ‘peak’ any
sounds, thereby creating a good, clear balance. Then
I have developed my skills further by using Pro Tools,
Logic Pro and Adobe After FX.

Craig Bratley: I learned to mix through a lot of trial and error. I also
read a lot of books on the subject, which led me to
study for a BSc in Music Technology. I still read a lot
on mixing today, as there is always something to learn.
There are also some great tutorials online, such as Pen-
sado’s Place ‘Into The Lair’.

How do you approach mixing in general? That is, what

(if anything) are the things you do each time you mix
a track? Or do you prefer to remain open about your
production processes?
Rick Bull Generally speaking, my mix approach is very simple.
  (Deepchild/Acharné): I try to minimize sonic variables—basic EQ’ing, com-
pression and panning are my primary concerns when
Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music 157

mixing. I don’t feel that I’m sophisticated enough as a

mix engineer to create much of the nuance I’d like in a
high-end mix down, so I tend to prefer creating mixes
with a fingerprint character and with a sound I find per-
sonally pleasing. I don’t think I have the sonic agility
to be ‘all things to all men’, so I shoot from the gut—I
shoot for ‘simple’, ‘direct’ and ‘easily identifiable’ (usu-
ally) as the sonic fingerprints of a Deepchild mix. In my
case, this means a direct, warm and perhaps a little more
bottom-heavy approach than is usual. My approach is
hardly refined, but I do hope it is distinctive. I feel that
many mix engineers end up producing under-par pro-
ductions by overworking a mix, rather than allowing it
to breathe. Ultimately, I tend to try to remind myself
that less is more. It’s been useful to ask, ‘what can I edit
out?’ rather than, ‘what can I add?’ when mixing a track

Pierre Belliveau Panning is pretty standard no matter what the track

  (Gone Deville): —it gives each element its own space in a mix. Also,
finding which frequencies I want to prioritize for each
layer is common for me. I also try not to compress any-
thing unless I absolutely need to. Often, sounds can fit
into a mix with nothing other than the right volume and
panning applied. I’ll still EQ most tracks, but not too
destructively. To be honest, I’m looking forward to the
day when I don’t mix my own songs anymore, so that
I can let someone else bring a new life and flavor to my
tracks.

Phil France: When I’m happy that a track is finished, I’ve generally
got a pretty good idea of how I want it to sound, and I will
do all the stem bounces, and make sure all my levels are
fine, and balanced, before I go into the studio for the
mixing session. Music that an artist(s) is working on can
really benefit from having a fresh pair of ears working on
it for the mix, as the artist(s) is generally pretty close to
it and may miss better ways of doing things, or ways of
making it sound better. At the moment, largely due to the
fact that my major financial investment is renting a studio
space, but also because I’m a bit of a control freak, I do
as much work as I can myself. I have a clear idea of how
I want it to sound, usually, but also understand the impor-
tance of having another pair of professional ears listen, to
potentially improve things and also to do a double-check.
If there isn’t the budget or time for working with another
producer or engineer for the mix, I’ll get it sounding
as good as I can on my own, check the levels and then
run it through some plug-ins I have. Basically, I want to
achieve a full, warm, defined and fat sound across all the
frequency ranges in the track. I’ll run a track through a
(stereo-bus) compressor, which helps to glue all the track
together. I’ll also try to remove any frequencies from the
individual tracks that I don’t like through equalization,
158 Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

before the mixing session. I’ll usually remain open

during mixing, and I’m happy to try new things. In fact,
my approach to the mixing process is to try all the ideas
that enter my head, to see if they work or not. It’s trial and
error, but trial and error within the parameters and guide-
lines of what technically works.

Noah Pred: My mixing technique has changed a lot over the years
and will surely continue to evolve and adapt, along with
technology and my knowledge of it. Currently, most
individual tracks in my projects have a UAD Neve 88RS
emulation on them for gentle compression, gating and
EQ, along with optional dx-160 and saturation units,
which I can activate as needed. Importantly, all of my
track volume faders are attenuated to −7 dB by default,
so there’s always plenty of headroom, and I try to be vig-
ilant about maintaining ‘green levels’ throughout every
gain stage. Once an arrangement has taken shape, I’ll
group my tracks into sensible instrument or frequency-
spectrum buses, at which point I’ll apply further EQ,
bus compression, and vintage excitation (often with a
combination of UAD plug-ins and iZotope’s Alloy 2).
I’ve also got all of my effect returns collected onto their
own group bus, with some basic EQ and excitation to
keep my reverbs and delays from getting muddy.

Ryan Chynces Each time I mix a track, I pick one of the multitracks
  (Rion C): to be dominant. I set it to zero, and then adjust the levels
of all the other tracks relative to it. I keep the volume
of that dominant track constant throughout the entire
mixing process, but am constantly adjusting the volume
(and track delay) of the other supporting multitracks in
relation to it. I’m open about what multitrack will be the
dominant (the standard of course is the primary ‘four on
the floor’ kick beat), but if I have a great harmony or mel-
ody track, sometimes I’ll build everything around that.

Andy Cole: I tend to listen over and over to each layer of sound in
a mix, to be sure it’s working individually over time,
before I listen with all of my layers combined. I have
learned by mistakes not to master my own files, not to
use stereo-bus compression tools, and just to let my
mastering engineers work their magic there! However,
referring to your ‘open’ production process, I quite
often throw in a selection of sounds, and just see if
they sit well. Some do, some don’t—I’m quite exper-
imental in that sense. Over time, I have developed
further programming skills that enable me to almost
weave certain sounds in and out with fine attention to
detail to the sound levels of the individual layers (i.e.,
when a sound should be added or removed, can be
added or taken out, when a sound might sound better
alone, to enhance the impact, and so on).
Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music 159

TJ Train: I prefer to remain open. In general, I now like to focus

90% of my energies towards the creative process and
10% towards mixing. I feel that mixing is an entirely
different art form from actually making music, and
takes years of dedication and experience to do it right.

Craig Bratley: I’m very open about the way I mix, as electronic music
lends itself to trying different things. There are one or
two things I always do, like having a low cut filter on
every track except the bass and kick, but I never follow
100% the same approach.

Rick Bull: I feel like I have so much to learn. My ears tend toward
a specific sonic palette (and an interesting aversion to
certain frequencies), but my grasp over some tools can
also be a little heavy-handed, perhaps. I find it easy to
get attached to a certain way of doing things, which may
occasionally blind-side me to solutions to sonic prob-
lems which might be obvious to those less attached. For
example, I remember (about ten years ago) working with
a vocal in a track which was around a quarter-tone out of
tune. After struggling to disguise this fact and making a
mess of the vocal, I settled on a combination of some-
times apologetically auto-tuning the vocal and at other
times letting it sound in its own de-tuned glory. I feel
that within the mixing environment, there is no single
‘best’ way of approaching a sonic challenge, and that
listeners will generally re-cast an errant element with
repeated listens to become part of the desired fabric of a
tune. Trying too hard to ‘sterilize’ or ‘perfect’ an imper-
fect mix can often lead to a very two-dimensional listen-
ing experience and a profound sense of distrust from the
listener. Writers like David Toop and Brian Eno address
this very astutely and point out how much mixing
conventions also change over time. To use an extreme
example, many of the mixes of Contemporary Chris-
tian music in the ‘80s sought to remove the sibilance,
hum and physical ‘detritus’ in a recording to create one
illusion of sonic ‘transcendence’ and ‘perfection’. These
mix conventions within that tradition are very different
now, particularly as we have come to associate tropes
like sonic ‘authenticity’ with certain heavily nostalgic
processing techniques like tape saturation and compres-
sion. We hear through a haze of nostalgia, and we take
comfort in the memory of certain technology. Creativity
involves acknowledging these sonic assumptions and
knowing when they might be worth subverting.

Pierre Belliveau: I guess that, in some ways, I do prefer to remain open
about the mixing process. In some ways, I guess.
Boundaries and limitations don’t always have to be a
bad thing, especially when creating—it’s good to not
always draw lines around where you can and can’t go.
160 Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

Noah Pred: Some degree of openness in the mixing process is

important creatively. There should always be room
to try new things, to test new tools and to experiment
with alternate techniques, particularly when your
go-to approach isn’t working. However, I think there’s
something to be said for having familiar guidelines,
tools and signal flows configured for easy usage, if
for no other reason than to streamline the process, and
possibly help to give you your own ‘sound’.

Adam Marshall: I don’t tend to share my production processes because

I am not convinced that they are ‘correct’. I just know
that they work for me, and have sort of become part of
my ‘style’. However, I think it’s important for people
to share their production processes if they want, as it’s
an invaluable source of learning for people that are just
getting started.

Phil France: Being open means that you may find something that
sounds better, but I’ve found that it helps to have a clear
overall focus about what you want in mind as well. If
something doesn’t work quickly, I’ll disregard it and
then move on to the next idea. One of the things I’ve
learned is that it takes me time to listen to something,
so I’ll review and double-check it on different speakers
away from the studio during all stages of producing the
work. I’ve learned that if I’m involved in a session with
other professionals, and I’m in charge, it helps to have
a clear idea about what I want and to be prepared and
decisive. For me, in this context, the decision is always
about you and your work, and how you feel and think
about it. I’ll always address the things that come to mind
when I’m mixing, then articulate them and figure out
how to try the change them, so I can ‘A/B’ the results.
All my pieces have to ‘settle’, so there are no niggles or
regrets about the mix in my mind.

Ryan Chynces: Changing up the mixing and production process opens

up numerous possibilities. For example, mixing an
entire track around a dominant melody opens up a dif-
ferent garden of forking paths, as compared to laying
everything onto the kick drum.

TJ Train: Remaining open allows you to try new things and

move in new and experimental directions. I believe
that having a regimented production process restricts
you as an artist and prevents growth.

Andy Cole: To be open is a good thing. I prefer trial and error—

just throw it in the mix and see if it works. What’s
also helped me are my DJ skills, where over time (and
through trial and error) you learn to mix/dissolve one
sound into the next, which is also learned by trial and
Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music 161

error. I treat my mixing as I would my sketch pad or

notepad: try it, record it, test it. If it works, then great,
and if it doesn’t work, delete it or amend accordingly.

Craig Bratley: If you remain open, there are no parameters to stick

to and you can have the odd, happy accident along the
way.

Do you think mixing is done differently in what I’ll

call, for lack of a better term, ‘electronic dance’ genres
than in more traditional markets (like rock and folk)?
Rick Bull: The joy and trappings of electronic dance mixing
have traditionally been that it’s far more immediate
and physically functional than a lot of rock ‘n’ roll,
by virtue of the medium in which it is experienced.
There are certain conventions which are difficult to
break within the form of a disco/house track, with-
out compromising the physical power of a recording.
Due to the fact that dance music has traditionally
been listened to at high volume, in a club, the broad
brushstrokes of mixing a kick, bass, snare and hi-hats
together are relatively concrete, with mix creativity
being explored through placement and dynamics
of more subtle sub-mixed elements. I like the chal-
lenge of mixing dance music because it’s generally
so highly artificial to begin with; once the fundamen-
tals are in place, it’s exciting to work out how best to
exploit what’s left over. I’ve seen how some younger
rock mixers can overcomplicate their process and end
up with a mix down which sounds too bitty or overly
complex. Dance music has a way of bringing things
back to basic principles and grounding a listening
experience in the body. I’ve found that these kind
of lessons have helped me produce better mixes for
non-electronic music. Dance music mixes have often
felt like ‘visual’ experiences for me—broad sonic
blocks to be placed in a clear space. Once the funda-
mentals (and in dance music, these fundamentals are
fairly obvious) are in place, there’s creative room to
play with what remains.

Adam Marshall: Yes, I think so. With electronic dance music, it’s
assumed that the track will be played in a certain envi-
ronment (a club system) as the pinnacle, so a lot of the
mixing and production decisions are geared towards
this certainty. For more ‘listening’ types of music,
I think things need to sound good in a much wider
variety of environments, and this must be taken into
account when recording, mixing and mastering.
162 Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

Pierre Belliveau: I think mixing in electronic dance has the same con-
cepts as mixing for other markets, but the priorities
are not in the same areas. For example, in electronic
dance music, a kick will take a much more central
place in the mix than indie music, and indie may not be
as comparatively ‘hard’ in the low end. At the end of
the day, it’s still the same science, no matter what. But
genres also encompass different mixing and mastering
techniques.

Ryan Chynces It certainly is. For one thing, most of the multitracks
  (Rion C): that are used will be MIDI based, as opposed to audio
based, and working with MIDI has its own unique
challenges and opportunities. Another difference
is that electronic producers aren’t concerned with
reproducing a live aesthetic. A rock band, for exam-
ple, might want to mix their song so that it’s more
of a faithful reproduction of a live performance,
whereas a dance music song is produced to be the
live performance.

TJ Train: Absolutely! In electronic music there are dominant

elements such as the kick drum, bass line and perhaps
a lead or two. In most other genres, it’s more cohesive
where all instruments play an equal role. Now, this
perhaps isn’t true for all electronic music but it cer-
tainly it is for a good majority.

Andy Cole: Yes, possibly, but good sound is good sound! I have
mixed folk elements with electronic styles, and the ethic
is the same. I have not really mixed rock as such, but I can
imagine it could possibly be more difficult due to its ‘live’
nature. That said, the same principles apply.

What, in your opinion, is the same about electronic

and other mixing processes? What is different?

Phil France: I would think that the basic principles are still the
same—sound source, signal chain, levels, phase, equal-
ization, compression, balance, etc. I think it boils down
to whether you are recording a machine or a human
being playing an instrument. I noticed from my time
in the Cinematic Orchestra that electronic instruments,
compared to traditional instruments, have a hell of a lot
more level. I’d also suggest that certain bits of gear are
more readily associated with particular instruments,
genres and sounds.

Rick Bull: Dance/electronic music tends to be defined by a certain

physical functionality or literal sound system. Folk/rock
Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music 163

music can often get a little more hijacked by a perceived

need for ‘sound-authenticity’, which I’ve seen throw
some overly analytical engineers into a spin. I think that
increasingly, as genres collide, this is less of an exis-
tential issue. However, I do feel that dance music has
reminded me that it’s all just a glorious fiction we are
creating, and that independently of genre, we can have
fun acknowledging this fiction without getting too hung
up over it. Ultimately, a mix that ‘gets things done’ with-
out regressing into contrivance is an enduring mix.

Noah Pred: While many fundamental techniques are shared across

genres, mixing electronic music tends to have a unique
set of priorities. There’s generally less emphasis on the
midrange, though 1k–5k should still be approached
with care and precision. More attention needs to be
paid to the low end, with good reason. A lack of low
end can be a serious impediment for any club play,
whereas too much low end can seriously muffle the
rest of the track when compressed through a club
system. As a result, extreme side-chain compression
seems to be used considerably more often in electronic
music to address these imbalances. Also, typical club
systems tend not to translate extreme stereo activity
very well, so electronic music has a strong focus on
mono and stereo mid signals.

Ryan Chynces: A similarity would be trying to fill up the available

sonic space, and aiming for a sense of proportionality
between all the elements.

Is it common for artists working in ‘electronic dance’

genres to mix their own material, even while they
sequence and compose it, etc.? That is, is it common
for artists specializing in ‘electronic dance’ music
to oversee every aspect of record production, save
mastering? Why do you think this is, and how does it
impact creativity in the genre?
Phil France: I think that most electronic producers are capable of
getting a decent mix on their own. However, depend-
ing on what they think is right for the track or record,
they or their record company may ask a specialist mix
engineer to do the work. I’m thinking about Caribou
and FKA Twigs (among many others) and mixing
engineer/producer David Wrench, for example. I think
dance music has its own DNA in how quick it was on
the uptake to what music you could make with elec-
tronic instruments and computers. If you’re putting
things into a sequencer then you are learning about
164 Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

mixing and production by default, as opposed to, say,

writing a song and singing it on your guitar. It has
enabled the genre to blossom creatively because it was
all being figured out as it went along. It was new and
so there weren’t any traditional generic templates—
before it became commercially successful, that is. The
means of production using computers can be relatively
cheap compared to traditional recording studios, but
the integrity and quality of the musical ideas is always
the thing that will shine through.

TJ Train: I think that as they become busier with touring, etc., it

becomes more common for artists to seek out a mixing
and/or mastering engineer so they can focus on their
creative process. When starting out, the learning curve
usually involves trying to do their own mixing and mas-
tering, because funds usually do not allow otherwise.

Rick Bull: As a basic function of economics, and admonishing

the ‘DIY’ mythology of dance music history, I think
that the great majority of electronic music artists pride
themselves on being both composers and engineers.
I’ve seen something of the opposite in a lot of rock/
folk artists, who tend to feel that their role is primarily
as composers. It’s an artificial divide, which I do think
is closing. The folk and rock tradition was, until more
recent decades, very much beholden to the power
structures of major labels and studios, which have been
invested in divesting many artists of their own sense of
volition of power in producing finished records. The
traditional industry model relies on the mythologies of
stratified labor models in a production process (i.e.,
writers, mixers, engineers, pressing plants, distribu-
tors, etc.). As this traditional model collapses, and mix
technology becomes democratized, I think that art-
ists in general are realizing that they have the ability
to grasp all of the aspects of music production from
composition to finished product. There is no longer
so much artistic stigma attached to ‘doing it all’, and
extra assistance tends to be employed now more as a
matter of utility than principally as a matter of pride.

Adam Marshall: Yes, this is common. This happens because, on the

‘underground’ levels that I usually work within, there
is not the infrastructure to bring in outside experts for
certain parts of the production process. This is due to
the fact that (‘underground’) labels are usually self-
funded, and therefore it’s just not financially possible to
bring in outside experts. It’s DIY, but out of necessity.

Noah Pred: Empowered by technology, it seems the majority of elec-

tronic producers take pride in mixing their own material.
Not only does it give them more control over the sonic
Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music 165

character of their work (something that gets a lot of atten-

tion in their field), but it can also be an integral part of
the creative process. Personally, I tend not to focus too
much on mixing until the final stage of production, since
mix balance can be significantly altered by changes to an
arrangement. However, I know a lot of producers who
front-load a good deal of mixing at the beginning of a
project, ensuring every sound is honed into place before
proceeding with further composing or arranging duties.
For those who can work effectively in this way, it can lead
to an impressive degree of sound design. On the other
end of the spectrum, I’ve seen this approach prevent other
producers from getting anything done at all.

Ryan Chynces: Since an electronic music artist generally hasn’t invested

the time into mastering an instrument and then perform-
ing it professionally on a track (like a guitarist would),
that time and energy is instead invested into developing
expertise in the entire production process.

Craig Bratley: It can vary. Mixing and writing are often part of the
same process with regards to electronic music. It’s quite
common for an artist to mix their material as they are
writing. Sometimes you need to have the right drum
sound, or get the bottom end working together, before
you can make a start. Even the sounds you choose can
have an important impact on the final balance—select-
ing the right sounds in the writing process saves you
work trying to find a space for everything when you’re
mixing. Other times, you might just write a track really
quickly, and mix it later. And there are a lot of people
who write tracks and get a mix engineer to polish them
up later, as they might not have the production chops to
get the track sounding exactly how they want it to.

Andy Cole: I can only speak for myself. I develop ‘layers’, then go
back to add more ‘layers’. Perhaps, over time, I may
compose another layer, or add a vocal that comes up
after listening to the piece. However, perhaps at the start
of my production processes, I wouldn’t ‘compose’ as
such, but simply ‘try’, ‘experiment’ and ‘see what hap-
pens’, much like a visual artist would (i.e., put something
onto paper, add to it, take things out and so on). I guess
you may start with an initial idea in your head, but the
outcome may be completely different from where you
started. I guess that is the beauty of the electronic/dig-
ital mixing processes—you can cut, copy, paste, save,
delete and so on. In terms of mastering, though, I prefer
for a mastering engineer to create final masters. If my
mix elements are clear and balanced, then it lets a more
experienced person complete the project. That’s not to
say that I always work with a mastering engineer. I have
created my own internal masters, for personal use, and
166 Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

they do sound good, but it’s also always good to have

another set of ears hear something before you finish.

Noah Pred: Particularly with electronic producers’ near-universal

embrace of creative platforms such as Ableton Live,
Reason, and Bitwig (as opposed to more traditional
tracking-oriented platforms such as Pro Tools, Logic
or Digital Performer), composition and production
are so inherently intertwined as to be in most cases
indistinguishable.

Phil France: Yes, I work on a piece right until the end of the mix
session. You might notice something during the mix that
shouldn’t be there (for example, an audible click on an
audio edit), for example, which needs fixing. If you’re
happy with the mix, you also need to take it away from
the coalface, so to speak, and listen on different speak-
ers until you are entirely happy that it’s good enough.

Ryan Chynces: Absolutely—100%! I’d also say that ‘producing’ is part

of the composition process in electronic dance music,
since new sounds, combinations, etc., emerge during
the production process depending on how heavily (and
creatively) various effects are applied. While rock art-
ists may ‘go lighter’ on processing effects during the
production process (to maintain that ‘live performance
believability’), electronic music artists are under no
such constraints.

What tools do you use to mix your music?

Rick Bull: I’ve moved from various outboard solutions, to mixing

entirely ‘in the box’ these days. This has primarily been
born of a desire to work simply, quickly and in a variety
of environments—from cafes to airplanes, studios to in
bed, in a way that a simple domestic laptop can support.
I work with minimal third-party plug-ins, entirely from
within the Ableton Live environment. I travel so much
and frequently that it’s been in my interest to tailor my
process accordingly, and so I try to work with and mas-
ter whatever tools are ‘at hand’. Where necessary, I’ll
solicit third-party help and studios. I use minimal con-
trol surfaces (even when they are ‘on hand’), as I prefer
to really try to ‘learn’ the most basic of tools efficiently.

Pierre Belliveau: Headphones, monitors, spectrum analyzer . . . that’s

pretty much it, I guess. And the good old car test.
That’s a must—no joke!

Noah Pred: I do all my mixing in Ableton Live 9.5, with a com-
bination of Ableton’s audio devices, UAD-powered
plug-ins, and plug-ins from Eventide, iZotope, Wave
Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music 167

Arts and Waves. At this point, the UAD emulations

probably feel the most indispensable, due to their
faithful harmonic saturation characteristics and signal
path modelling. That said, I think an important part
of mixing is knowing the principles to make do with
whatever tools you have available.

Adam Marshall: I alternate, depending on what equipment I have

access to. For initial mix downs, I usually use Ableton.
But for final mix downs, I enjoy summing my mixes
through outboard hardware mixers (when I can).

Phil France: Logic X, Soundtoys, Lexicon and UAD plug-ins.

Ryan Chynces: Ableton Live, headphones and studio monitors.

TJ Train: When I do any sort of mixing on my own, I use the

Fabfilter plug-in suite, and UA plug-ins for stuff like
compression and EQ.

Andy Cole: Logic Pro for production. Allen & Heath Xone 62/92
mixers for DJing.

Craig Bratley: I use the same tools as everyone else. I have a hybrid
studio so I use the best of both worlds—a bit of EQ,
compression, reverbs, delays and so on. Nothing eso-
teric, really. I also use a summing mixer.

Which (if any) of the tools you use for mixing would
you say are indispensable to your process? Why?
Craig Bratley: EQ, as it allows me to make space for the individual
elements.

Pierre Belliveau: Headphones. They provide a direct reference, irre-

spective of whether you have good room acoustics.
The acoustics in my room are not good, so headphones
are a must.

Rick Bull: A solid set of monitors are vital. I use a combination of

Genelec 2020As, Yamaha HS80Ms, cheap Sennheiser
earbuds and Sennheiser HD25 headphones. I’ve learned
to hear through these fairly readily available tools, to
produce a passable mix. Ultimately, I feel that if you
can learn to mix on really simple tools, then having
access to more ‘high end’ tools feels more effective. I’m
personally really a ‘nuts and bolts’ guy. I have a small
handful of third-party plug-ins which I find indispens-
able, primarily the PSP Vintage Warmer compressor
and Xenon limiter. These are tools I’ve just stuck with
over the years, and ones that I understand the sound and
168 Andy Devine and Jay Hodgson

functionality of. They are robust, not particularly subtle

and intuitive tools. There are some gorgeous multiband
compressor and EQ suites I’d love to get my hands on,
when finances avail themselves. But for now, the bun-
dled tools within Ableton Live, and a few third-party
utilities, have helped me to forge my signature sound—
and it’s one, in general, that I’m happy with.

Adam Marshall: When I perform live, my analog drum machine is

invaluable because it produces bass tones that could not
be (easily) replicated from my laptop. In fact, in most
productions I do, I find adding an analog element to the
mix really fills things out sonically. I am not married
to any specific tools, but I do find it works well for me
to set limitations and just get to work with what I have,
instead of always waiting until I get the ultimate setup.
Wait for that, and you’ll never do anything!

Ryan Chynces: Headphones and studio monitors working in tandem are

important for achieving optimal sound on a maximum
number of playback devices. A program like Ableton
Live is, of course, essential, since that’s how the mixing
is done. However, within Ableton, I’d say that the essen-
tial effects are the limiter and track delay. Track delay
is very important when you’re pushing effects like the
limiter hard, since a heavily applied limiter on a given
multitrack can make it seem to lag behind the other
multitracks. Therefore, being able to nudge it forward a
few milliseconds to compensate is vital.

TJ Train: Fabfilter. I use the filter/EQ on just about all of my

music because of the smooth nature of their plugins.
They have a very transparent and ‘non-computer’
sound to them, which I love.

Andy Cole: Logic. It allows me to record elements, live instru-

ments, live mixes and samples, and then to work on
each layer directly to create the best balance of sounds.

Summary and Conclusion

In the conversation transcribed and arranged above, a number of themes

regularly surface, and a general consensus on approaches to mixing audio
in electronic dance music contexts becomes readily apparent. Indeed, it
seems clear that the artists above approach mixing in a manner largely
peculiar to electronic music production. Mixing seems interwoven with
the production process at large in our sample’s workflow, while in other
genres it remains largely a discrete activity carried out at a time and place
removed from the compositional, recording and editing activities involved
in a record’s production. This seems to have led, in turn, to an equally
unique conception of mixing’s general function in record production.
Mixing In/and Modern Electronic Music 169

According to the artists above, mixing emerges in electronic dance music

genres as a ‘creative’ more than ‘corrective’ process. In some cases, in fact,
artists seem to treat mixing as a creative process wholly indistinguishable
from—that is, holistically ingrained within—all of the broader composi-
tion and production processes that go into making a record.
‘Liveness’, albeit a ‘liveness’ peculiar to electronic dance music genres,
also seems to have played a crucial role in the way our sample developed
their mixing practices. Initial experiences of mixing audio in a live DJ/per-
formance context seems to be an almost universal early experience here. This
‘live’, ‘on the fly performance’ approach to mixing audio lends itself to an
open approach to the process, leading to an openness not just with the prod-
ucts of mixing but with regards to the process itself. The artists we spoke to
seemed willing to experiment not just with how a mix should sound, in other
words, but also with what techniques and tools belong to the ‘mixing stage’
proper. Moreover, the fact that electronic music productions are created with
the dance floor and DJ performance in mind also seems to play a guiding
role in mix practices. Traditional rock/pop productions often aim to convey
the spirit of performance, while the artists we spoke to seemed to suggest
that electronic music productions are performances in and of themselves.
Another point to consider is that the majority of electronic music
productions discussed above took place exclusively ‘in the box’, that is,
within a DAW environment. Even when artists ‘came up’ in analog envi-
ronments, they claim to now almost always work in primarily digital con-
texts. This has a number of crucial implications for mixing. As Rick Bull
noted, the technical democratization of production tools has promoted a
similar democratization of production roles, as artists previously cut out
of production and engineering processes now find themselves equipped
to participate and oversee those processes completely (if they so desire).
At one time, songwriting was the preserve of the artist, after which the
production process would then be relinquished to professional recording
engineers, producers and mix and mastering engineers, all playing discreet
roles in often-discreet specialist facilities. With advancements in comput-
ing power over the last two decades, coupled with the relatively affordable
prices of most computer recording software, the means of production is
now freely available to artists willing to make a moderate initial invest-
ment. In turn, this has led to a situation where artists also have the tools to
‘teach themselves’ previously esoteric aspects of the production process,
leading to a further willingness to experiment with aspects of production
once considered the exclusive purview of specialists.
Obviously, much more could be made of the conversation above than we
have room to do here. Our goal in compiling this conversation was simply to
begin the process of examining the unique position of mixing in electronic
dance music genres and to allow the artists doing that mixing a voice in
broader academic considerations of their crafts. We would simply conclude
by expressing our sincere gratitude to the artists who participated for allow-
ing us this glimpse into their artistic practices and considerations. Clearly
much more scholarly work needs to be done to fully grasp the various
nuances of electronic dance music production practices, and it is our sincere
hope that this chapter provides readers with a useful entry into that process.
11

Groove and the Grid

Mixing Contemporary Hip Hop
Matt Shelvock

In hip hop, a complicated relationship exists between production and mix-

ing practices. Celebrated producer/mix engineers including MixedByAli,
Noah ‘40’, JustBlaze and Dr. Dre, among others, for example, demonstrate
that the lines between mixing and production are often blurred within this
genre. According to Derek Ali, aka MixedByAli:

The guys at TDE [Kendrick Lamar, Ab Soul and Jay Rock] do things on
records sometimes because they know I’m going to come behind them and do
something that’s gonna make it better. Over the years I’ve been so experimental
with my mixes that they’d come in and try new things with their voice just to
see what I could do with it. They use their voice as an instrument that can be
added to.
(Ahmed, 2014)

Here Ali demonstrates that his mixing style is so thoroughly experimental

that it may resemble the production process at times. Indeed, his sonic
thumbprint is particularly audible on the vocals of songs such as ‘Car-
toons and Cereal’ (2012) and throughout Good Kid, M.A.A.D City (2012).
Additionally, Jay Z’s in-house producer JustBlaze demonstrates his own
complicated relationship with production and engineering practices by
describing his creative process:

As far as how my process works, sometimes what I’ll do, for example when
I’m working with Saigon, is we’ll start in the B room then we’ll start to mix
completely in the box. Once we get it to a point where it sounds good, or it
sounds good to a certain point but we want to run it through the analog gear,
we’ll make stems of everything. Then we can bring those stems to the A room
and finish the mix from there. That’s pretty much what we did with the Jay-Z
record. We started in the B room, all in Pro Tools, and did as much of the mix
as we could in there because we weren’t sure which record was going to be the
single.
(quoted in iZotope, 2016: https://www.iZotope.com/)

JustBlaze uses a multistage approach for crafting records by separating

pre-production, production and mixing processes. He continues to say,

170
Groove and the Grid 171

“I think hip hop for so long has been producer-driven—not that other
music isn’t—but in hip hop the producers are stars” (quoted in iZotope,
2016: https://www.iZotope.com/). Indeed, the producer is a central figure
within hip hop music, but so much of what constitutes production and
pre-production within hip hop requires fluency in audio mixing and its
constituent techniques. As such, this article will consider several tech-
niques occasionally associated with the arrangement and production of
recorded music within the purview of mix practice. This attitude—as
demonstrated through the above anecdotes and examples throughout this
chapter—reflects the current culture surrounding hip hop production.

Generic Overview

The sonic characteristics of hip hop are distinct in comparison to other

genres. Of these characteristics, perhaps the most notable is the presence
of a rapper or emcee (or MC). Rapping is a type of spoken-word vocalism
that is ubiquitous within the genre. Phrases within a rap verse adhere to
a recurring rhythmic structure, or flow, from which the emcee will vary
for the sake of maintaining compositional interest. Phrases within a verse
also tend to end with a terminal rhyme—although internal rhyme is also
possible. The general originality and cleverness with which emcees deliver
these rhymes defines a large part of a performer’s identity.
Emcees A$AP Rocky and Eminem demonstrate that there exists a tra-
dition of appreciation among practitioners for the sonic history of hip
hop. On artists such as himself, Kendrick Lamar and J Cole, A$AP Rocky
explains, “We’re hybrid children, we grew up students of hip hop. I really
enjoy every element of hip hop. Everyday I’m learning about old school
cats that have the same kind of flavor that we do . . . I’m just a student.
I grew up on all that stuff ” (Sencio, 2013: http://hot937.cbslocal.com).
Eminem echoes this sentiment by stating,

being a student of hip-hop in general, you take technical aspects from places.
You may take a rhyme pattern or flow from Big Daddy Kane or Kool G Rap.
But then you go to Tupac, and he made songs . . . Biggie told stories. I wanted
to do all that shit.
(Rolling Stone, 2013)

Appreciation for the sonic history of hip hop extends beyond lyrical
homage, however, as practitioners often pay tribute to both past hip hop
instrumentals and other foundational elements of the genre. The hip hop
producer’s primary means of engaging with previously recorded material
this way is through the act of sampling. Sampling dates back to the for-
mation of dub music in Jamaica in the 1960s. The music of Osbourne
‘King Tubby’ Ruddock, Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry and Errol Thompson, for
example, would sample so-called instrumental breaks from B-sides of 45
RPM records and compose around them by further emphasizing drums,
adding signal processing (especially reverb) and sound effects, and other
172 Matt Shelvock

instruments. By the 1970s in America, DJs such as Kool Herc, Grand Wiz-
ard Theodore, Grandmaster Flash and Jazzy Jay had adopted the practice
of sampling breaks. These DJs formed the backbone of hip hop music
through this quasi-compositional method, and expanded upon the tech-
nique of sampling breaks by adding vinyl scratching to the available sonic
repertory (Hager, 1984; Fricke and Ahearn, 2002; Chang, 2005).
Another distinctive characteristic of hip hop, in addition to the presence
of a rapper and sampled audio, is the general emphasis placed on drums
and low-end frequencies within the culture of listening. The kick drum
and bass tend to sound extremely prominent in hip hop mixes. Clarity of
low-end frequency content is of the utmost importance to hip hop fans,
who famously, for example, popularized the use of subwoofers within car
speaker systems. Additionally, in 2012, Dre Beats held a market share of
64% for headphones valued over $100, and was valued at $1 billion as
a company (Dorris, 2013; Neate, 2013). I clarify this fact because mix
engineers routinely consider the best possible sonic representation for the
audio they are working on. In order for this best fit approach to work, the
playback systems of music fans must be considered.

Crafting the Instrumental

As stated, creative workflow within hip hop often blurs lines between pro-
duction and mixing activities. This primarily owes to the fact that con-
temporary hip hop is built through the digital audio workstation (DAW).
Even producers who originally worked primarily within the analog domain
or on hardware, such as DJ Premier, currently rely on a DAW from pre-
production through post-production. Premier explains his admiration for
the DAW by stating:

I think Pro Tools is a great gift for all of us who have dealt with tape. It can
do a lot of things that I couldn’t do in analogue; it allows you to mess up, and
re-mess up and redo and undo, and so on. I am just in a whole different world
and frame of mind these days and Pro Tools just enhances me as a producer
and a person.
(Tingen, 2007)

Here, the ability of the DAW to quickly perform edits, retake passages and
mix on the fly clearly aids Premier’s creative process. DAWs, when used in
this way, can act both as a sketch pad for rough ideas and as a program for
finalizing production, mix and mastering decisions.
This section discusses mixing hip hop with the assumption that DAWs
remain an integral part of the beatmaking, production and mixing processes
for contemporary hip hop music. ‘Crafting the Instrumental’ describes
methods for mixing hip hop instrumentals by first discussing a number of
standard generic components including samples, percussion and bass. This
information is accompanied by suggestions for implementation within a
mix composite. After discussing a process for mixing an instrumental track,
the proceeding section (‘Mixing Vocals’) will cover strategies for mixing
Groove and the Grid 173

vocals. In hip hop, often vocalists work from a pre-composed instrumental

while recording. As such, this article will first describe a generic workflow
for finalizing an instrumental before adding in vocals for a final mixdown.

Sampling
To sample refers to the act of incorporating pre-recorded material into a
new musical instantiation of some type. Producers can sample from any
number of musical elements including (but not limited) to basslines, drum
breaks, fills, background vocals, strings, gospel choirs, entire songs and
any other conceivable audio source. Production duo Christian Rich, for
example, sampled a yelling sound on Earl Sweatshirt’s ‘Chum’ at 00:16
(2013). The pair recount the following story regarding their search for this
sample in an interview with LRG clothing company:

We were fascinated with this song from the 90s—this Wutang hip hop song. It
took us 10 years to find the song [they sampled originally], and when we finally
found the song we liked this scream in there. We were like, “Yo, we gotta find
that album, or that song, and get that scream.” We found the scream, and that’s
the scream in the beginning.
(quoted in LRG Clothing, 2013)

This anecdote demonstrates the importance of sampling to past and pres-

ent hip hop, and also makes evident the aesthetic significance assigned to
short peripheral sounds within the genre’s sonic landscape. Additionally,
here Christian Rich also exemplifies the fact that sampling is so entrenched
within the sound of hip hop that producers intentionally incorporate sam-
ples used by celebrated producers of past eras.
There are several approaches taken by mixers, beatmakers and produc-
ers who sample previously recorded music, and these approaches can be
classified according to the compositional purpose of a given sample. The
sample discussed above from ‘Chum’ (2013), for instance, occurs only
in the introduction. This type of approach is common in hip hop, where
a sample may be used intermittently as a sound effect or percussive ele-
ment. Samples can also, however, provide a track with recurring harmonic
and melodic content. This is exemplified by the piano sample that plays
throughout ‘Chum’, where this repeated segment forms the song’s har-
monic structure and content.
It is perhaps this tendency for sampled material to account for the
rhythmic, harmonic or melodic content of a song that is most controver-
sial for some people. For copyright owners, the issue is clear: they desire
monetary compensation for their intellectual property. For musicians and
critics, on the other hand, there seems to be a complicated quasi-moral
issue surrounding the authenticity of incorporated sampled audio within
a piece. For some music fans and critics, sampling is castigated as a
non-legitimate form of creativity. Noah ‘40’ Shebib (OVO Sound, Drake,
Lil’ Wayne, Action Bronson, Beyoncé) comments on his own use of sam-
ples by stating:
174 Matt Shelvock

I use em sort of as a tool I guess, you know? I’m a fan of publishing, so I try not
to sample too much, but it’s a tool in your arsenal. There is something to be said
about not sampling, and if you say “I’m not going to take that from someone
else,” I say “great, congratulations—I’m happy for you.” But, you can sample,
and what if a sample makes the song better? What I try to do is grab something,
take a loop out of it, then flip it, reverse it, distort it, or chop it up. Then I ask
myself “Did I create something?”
(quoted in Pensado’s Place, 2014)

Here Noah demonstrates that he views sampling as one potential vehicle

for achieving a desired aesthetic goal. Additionally, he explains some of
the techniques producers use to craft and manipulate sampled music: cut-
ting, reversing, processing and re-arranging. These tasks are accomplished
through either loading vinyl, tape, CD or mp3 audio onto an MPC-style
hardware sampler, or the DAW. With a hardware sampler, slices, or small
sections of audio data, can be assigned to discrete channels and triggers
for automatic playback and processing. Through utilizing this machin-
ery, producers can easily mix and match slices of a pre-recorded piece.1
Within a DAW, producers can utilize audio editing tools in order to accom-
plish the same tasks. For instance, most DAWs feature editing tools that
resemble the control panel for Microsoft Paint or Adobe Photoshop. With
these tools, audio can be selected, deleted, moved, time-stretched or pitch-
shifted, among other similar operations.

Time Stretching and Pitch

There are, however, drawbacks to standard sampling tools. Time stretch-
ing can be particularly problematic when stretching audio beyond approx-
imately 5% (faster or slower), for instance. Beyond this amount, noisy
transients and harmonically rich segments from the source material pro-
duce wavery artifacts (Senior, 2011). Beat slicing is a potential solution for
instances where a given time-stretch algorithm causes too many audible
artifacts to occur. The technique of beat slicing refers to the act of cutting
pre-recorded audio at rhythmically significant moments and reposition-
ing these slices within a DAW time grid.2 If moving to a faster tempo,
individual slices must be shortened in order to provide ample time for
the next slice to occur. When moving to a slower tempo, slices must be
stretched in order to accommodate the extra silence that occurs as a result
of the expanded time grid. Automatic beat-slicing tools also exist. iZo-
tope’s Phatmatik Pro and Propellerhead’s Recycle constitute two examples
of such software.
Once a sample has been time-stretched or beat-sliced to fit a track’s
tempo, recordists must consider the pitch of the sample. Pitch tends to
be more easily altered than rhythm, but remains an important consider-
ation nonetheless. Many DAWs have built-in pitch alteration capabilities,
wherein users can alter the overall pitch of a sample in cents. Other tools
such as Celemony’s Melodyne are quite commonly used, for example,
which allows both manual and automatic pitch correction.
Groove and the Grid 175

Noise Removal
Sampling originally employed the use of vinyl discs, and although the
practice of so-called crate digging for inspiring recordings is alive and
well today, producers and artists may also choose to sample from tape, CD
or mp3. While digital media tends to sound full and clean, other types of
media may be bandwidth-limited or contain audible hiss and crackle. Hip
hop tracks may sample from either of these sources and can thus suffer
from a multitude of noise issues. Some hiss and crackle can be consid-
ered acceptable, and may even be masked by the other instrumentation in
a full mix. Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Rigamortis’ (2011), for example, features
this type of vinyl crackle throughout the song. The presence of this type
of noise is not appropriate, however, for every situation, and occasion-
ally noise-removal operations will have to be performed on the sample in
question.
For hiss and crackle, simply filtering out high-end frequency content can
fix issues at times. This solution, however, will also cause the sample to
sound dull in comparison with the original source. As such, simple filtering
may also be a poor choice for removing undesirable high-frequency noise.
In cases where filtering causes the sample to sound overly dull, instead opt
for multiband dynamics processing. Users should target the offending fre-
quency region only (e.g., above 3 kHz–5 kHz) with a fast-acting expansion
tool. Ratio and threshold can be tweaked to reduce any offending noise
contained within the region, but should only be increased insofar as the
source material requires. The advantage to using multiband expansion in
this way is that the end result should be much more transparent sounding
than simple filtering.
Another type of noise that occurs during the sampling process is the
accumulation of ground hum at 50/60 Hz. Noise removal via comb filter-
ing works well here, and can be performed through Tone Boosters’ TB_
HumRemover, for instance. This approach necessitates caution, however,
if musical pitches match the hum frequency (50/60 Hz). In this case, musi-
cal pitches will be attenuated along with the undesirable noise.

Groove and the Grid: Blending Samples with Percussion

Percussion instruments are integral to the hip hop aesthetic. Both the tim-
bre and the rhythmic composition of these instruments must be considered
by those who mix hip hop beats. Additionally, temporal alignment between
key transients in a track’s main sample and any added percussion must
be established. Editing and sample delays can be used to align the rhyth-
mic events of sampled material with additional percussion this way. These
tools, however, can also be used to humanize grooves by creating small
rhythmic irregularities.3
When rhythmic conflicts occur between different types of samples, or
samples and MIDI instruments, editing is likely the best solution. For easy
comparison, users should place conflicting tracks side by side within a
sequencer. Zoom in on the waveform visual so that transient information
176 Matt Shelvock

is visible on both tracks, and proceed to nudge the tracks forward or back-
ward on the time grid until the transients are aligned. Once alignment is
achieved, it may be desirable to emphasize the transient of either instru-
ment. To do this, simply use a sample delay to cause the desired transient
to occur first. If one wants to mask the snare drum present in a given
sample, then an additional snare instrument could be added and given a
negative delay setting (i.e., −3 m/s). This would cause the additional snare
to sound first, thus masking the transient of the snare within the sampled
source material. While spectral treatment may still be necessary, this type
of masking presents one starting point.
Hip hop features a strong focus on rhythmic events and groove. Groove
can be altered—as in real-world drumming—by causing instruments to
occur behind the beat by small (but varying) time intervals. This routinely
happens in hip hop via manipulating swing on Akai MPC style samplers.
The swing parameter determines how far behind a given sonic even occurs
from its original rhythmic value. MPC designer Roger Linn describes his
approach to the swing algorithm by stating:

My implementation of swing has always been very simple: I merely delay

the second 16th note within each 8th note. In other words, I delay all the
even-numbered 16th notes within the beat (2, 4, 6, 8, etc.) In my products
I describe the swing amount in terms of the ratio of time duration between
the first and second 16th notes within each 8th note. For example, 50% is no
swing, meaning that both 16th notes within each 8th note are given equal tim-
ing. And 66% means perfect triplet swing, meaning that the first 16th note of
each pair gets 2/3 of the time, and the second 16th note gets 1/3, so the second
16th note falls on a perfect 8th note triplet. The fun comes in the in-between
settings. For example, a 90 BPM swing groove will feel looser at 62% than at
a perfect swing setting of 66%. And for straight 16th-note beats (no swing), a
swing setting of 54% will loosen up the feel without it sounding like swing.
Between 50% and around 70% are lots of wonderful little settings that, for a
particular beat and tempo, can change a rigid beat into something that makes
people move.
(quoted in Scarth, 2013: 1)

The swing algorithm described by Linn has been employed within hip hop
beatmaking since the 1980s, and continues to be relevant within the DAW.
Ableton, for example, allows users to apply humanization from the so-called
groove pool to both audio and MIDI tracks. Additionally, the software offers
a large collection of MPC style grooves, which are intended to emulate
the MPC swing algorithm. If groove quantization does not provide enough
humanization, or perhaps where a different type of rhythmic approach is
desired, beatmakers can simply key in percussive events manually.

Low-End Theory: Drums and Bass

Low frequencies are extremely prominent in hip hop mixes. In fact, the
listening culture of hip hop demonstrates its fascination with bass through
the adoption of its preferred playback technology: subwoofers, boomboxes
Groove and the Grid 177

and large headphones. Drum machines—particularly the Roland TR-808,

but also samplers by Akai, E-mu and Alesis—comprise a large portion of
hip hop’s low frequency content via the kick drum. In contemporary hip
hop production, samples of drums may be loaded into a DAW rather than
a drum machine, but both approaches are common. Producers, beatmakers
and mixers often sample classic drum machine sounds through DAW tools,
but also sample live drums. In addition to methods for creating and mixing
kick instruments, the following section will also discuss both methods for
generating bass and mixing bass lines.

808s and Heartbreak: Mixing Sine Wave–Based Kicks

The sound of the 808 is ubiquitous within hip hop. The classic drum
machine can be heard on Afrika Bambaata and the Soulsonic Force’s
‘Planet Rock’ (1982), for an early example. More recently, Kanye West’s
affinity for the 808 is made clear by both the sonic characteristics and the
name of his 2008 album 808s and Heartbreak. West’s production style
also relies on the classic machine: the percussion in Lil’ Wayne’s ‘Let the
Beat Build’ (2008), for instance, was built using only 808 percussion and
a single sample in addition to the vocals.
Samples of 808 drums are ubiquitous within the production world.
MIDI synths, as well as hardware and software samplers, often come pre-
packaged with a set of 808-inspired sounds. Additionally, producers may
opt to design their own sounds that resemble the 808. This can be achieved
with any synthesizer that contains an isolated sine wave oscillator. In
Native Instrument’s Massive, for example, users can create a simple 808
kick using the following settings:

Oscillator 1: ‘Sin- Square’; ‘Spectrum’; Pitch: −24; WT Position: 0%;

Intensity: 100%; Amplitude: 100%
Oscillator 2: Off
Oscillator 3: Off
Filter 1: Filter type: Lowpass 4; cut-off: 100%
Envelope 1: modulates ‘pitch’ parameter of oscillator 1 +24 (2 octaves);
attack: 0%; decay: 0%
Envelope 4 (universal envelope): attack: 0%; decay: 35%

The above patch will produce a classic 808-style kick from a simple sine
wave oscillation.4 The resultant sound, however, despite sounding clean,
lacks harmonics and may be difficult to hear through a dense mix.
Sine-based kick drums, like those produced in the above patch, can
be treated to sound more prominent through boosting or adding addi-
tional overtone content. A number of strategies may be used to enhance
the overtone content of the 808. Saturation, bit-crushing and harmonic
enhancers constitute three methods for achieving this goal. The most
common of these, perhaps, is saturation. Subtle saturation can provide
slight compression and enhance the harmonic content of the 808 kick
in order to cause it to appear perceptually forward within the mix. In
178 Matt Shelvock

order to accomplish this task, a distortion plugin such as Sound Toys’

Decapitator may be used. Decapitator features a thump setting that works
in conjunction with the hi-pass filter to add an amplitude boost at the
desired setting. For example, if the hi-pass filter is set to 60 Hz, Decap-
itator will boost 60 Hz in addition to providing a filter here. Users can
implement this technique in conjunction with multiband compression in
order to extend the decay of the harmonics produced. A sonically related
technique to saturating and compressing a signal is to generate distortion
via bit-crushing. Bit-crusher plugins emulate the distortion produced
when reducing the word length of a given audio file, and can be heard
within the production style of !llmind on Human (2015), for example.
Another method for increasing harmonic content within an 808 kick is to
use methods for enhancement. For example, Waves’ MaxxBass works by
analyzing the low-end fundamental content of an audio source, and then
creating new harmonics above that fundamental which can be mixed
back into the original signal. One might consider running two instances
of Waves’ MaxxBass on a sine kick. The first instance will generate har-
monics related to the fundamental of the kick, and the second instance
will generate additional overtones from the harmonics generated in the
first instance.

Other Kicks
808-style kicks are often blended with other synthesized or sampled
drums. 909 and 808 sounds are often layered, for example, and can be seen
within the free sample library released by hip hop producer Just Blaze in
2015. His sample library contains, for instance, two kick drums used on
Jay Z’s The Blueprint (2001), each consisting of a blend of synthesized
and sampled layers. In addition to synthesized 808 and 909 drum sounds,
kick drums can be sampled from other recordings or taken from sample
libraries. Just Blaze’s sample library, for example, contains such sampled
material. The ‘KICK_EASY.wav’ sample contains an audible vocal sound
left over from the source material (Camp, 2015).

Bass
Bass, while a prominent feature of both classic and contemporary hip
hop, most typically remains secondary to the kick drum. A number of
bass-producing methods may be used in hip hop production such as sam-
pling, live tracking and synthesis. In cases where samples feature prom-
inent bass lines, producers and beatmakers occasionally opt to use the
recycled bass line in the new arrangement. Often, as a consequence of
splicing and re-ordering samples, a new bass line forms from the edits
made to the original source material.
For songs where the sample does not already contain a bass line, or
where a song does not already contain a foundational sample as discussed
in section 2.1, a sampled bass line may be used. In this case, a bass line
from a sample library or previously recorded song is implemented within
Groove and the Grid 179

a given session and often receives treatment in the form of editing and
repositioning in order to establish a more original feel.
Perhaps the most common method for implementing bass within hip
hop, however, is synthesis. Sine-based bass instruments are quite com-
mon and—as with the kick drum—evolved from widespread TR 808
usage within the genre’s earlier stages. A simple sine bass can be created
in Native Instruments’ Massive, for example, by inputting the following
settings:

Oscillator 1: ‘Sin- Square’; ‘Spectrum’; Pitch: −24; WT Position: 0%;

Intensity: 100%; Amplitude: 100%
Oscillator 2: Off
Oscillator 3: Off
Envelope 4 (universal envelope): decay: 65%; level: 0%
Voicing menu: Max: 1
Insert 1: S shaper; Dry/Wet: 20%; Drive 50%
FX 1: C-tube; Dry/Wet: 20%; Drive: 50%

The above settings will produce a deep sine wave bass texture that is suit-
able for sub bass, with added distortion to generate harmonics.5 Addition-
ally, any of the mixing strategies discussed in section ‘808s and Heartbreak’
for enhancing the overtone content of the 808 kick drum may be replicated
on 808 bass tracks. Mixers and producers should be careful, however, that
the two powerful sounds do not compete for sonic territory.

Finalizing Kick and Bass

As mentioned, kick and bass drums often compete with one another for
sonic territory. Within hip hop and related genres, the generalization can
be made that the kick drum often occupies a higher frequency territory
than the bass. Depending on subgenre, different approaches for blending
the two instruments may be used. Trap, for example, features exagger-
ated sub bass frequencies as typified within Travis Scott’s Rodeo (2015).
A more tame approach to sub bass is heard on Dr. Dre’s 2001 (1999), on
the other hand. As sub bass (20 Hz–60 Hz) tends to occupy much of the
available energy within a mix composite when exaggerated, kick drums
can have a hard time competing for audibility in trap music such as Scott’s.
In order to aid the kick drum in cutting through in this instance, typically
high-pass filtering will be applied to attenuate sub bass frequencies for
this instrument, and in so doing removes frequency information that may
compete with the bass.
In addition to filtering, the bass can be treated through lateral dynamic
reduction (Hodgson, 2011). This method attenuates overall volume of the
bass by reducing its dynamic range through compressing via an external
input. This method makes use of the side-chain feature available on many
hardware and software compressors. Here the kick drum is used to pro-
vide such an input, and a compressor on the bass channel will react to the
incoming kick signal.
180 Matt Shelvock

Export/Bounce
The previous sections have focused on methods for mixing and selecting
samples, drums and bass. Other peripheral instrumentation of any type can
be added as well, but these sources are diverse and often play a more triv-
ial part in hip hop mixes than the sonic aspects discussed above. Once an
instrumental is completed, it is sent to an emcee for the addition of vocal
tracks. Before the file is exported, engineers may consider applying light
compression or limiting and EQ to the stereo bus to aid in delivering an
energetic sounding background track to the artist. This step is not neces-
sary, but may be appreciated by the vocalist.

Mixing Vocals

As mentioned earlier, a sonically distinct feature of hip hop music is the

presence of rap vocals. It is crucial that engineers craft rap vocals to sound
intelligible within the mix—often a difficult task—as the vocals may clash
with the rich midrange and upper midrange exhibited within funk and
soul vinyl samples, snare drums, gospel organs, pianos, strings and other
idiomatic textures. On achieving an acceptable balance between these
sounds, Grammy-nominated mix engineer Matthew Weiss (9th Wonder,
!llmind, Snoop, Sonny Digital) explains:

Quintessentially, hip hop is all about the relationship between the vocals and
the drums. The number one contestant with the voice is the snare. Finding a
way to make both the vocals and the snare prominent without stepping on each
other will make the rest of the mix fall nicely into place.
(Weiss, 2011)

Here, Weiss provides a concise characterization of hip hop as a genre that

favors drums and vocals. As such, mix engineers direct attention towards
the sonic impact of these two instruments during playback. The impor-
tance of an artist’s vocal sound is demonstrated through artist–engineer
pairs such as Kendrick Lamar and MixedbyAli, as well as Jay Z and Young
Guru, among others. Young Guru remarks on his relationship with rapper
Jay Z by stating:

Even when Jay’s working with another producer who has his own go-to engi-
neer, Jay takes me along to engineer his vocals. This is to do with my knowl-
edge of his way of working and the comfort and trust factor between us. We do
more than just recording: he also bounces off ideas with me, so there’s a kind
of synergy about the records we create together.
(quoted in Tingen, 2009)

This anecdote demonstrates that emcees may even employ the same engi-
neer repeatedly once an artist develops a level of trust in such an individ-
ual. Given the importance of vocal sound to both mix engineers and the
overall aesthetic of hip hop music, the following section will discuss strat-
egies for maintaining vocal intelligibility within hip hop mixes.
Groove and the Grid 181

Types of Vocal Tracks

There are five classes of hip hop vocal tracks, each defined by its aesthetic
function. These include (i) the lead vocal, (ii) answer tracks, (iii) ad lib
tracks, (iv) emphasis dubs and sometimes (v) a supporting vocal in the
form of a hook or background singing. As in other genres, a lead vocal
acts as the primary compositional vehicle for delivering lyrics and textual
meaning. In hip hop, this lead vocal is almost always delivered within
the paradigm of so-called rapping. The lead vocal (i) may rap continuous
verse sections, or may separate sequential verses with a hook. Hooks (v)
may be rapped or sung by the emcee or another individual in a more tradi-
tional pop or R&B fashion. Emcee Action Bronson’s ‘Baby Blue’ (2015),
for instance, features several verses separated by a sung vocal hook. In
this case, the rapper opted to sing the hook himself, but it is equally com-
mon for another singer or sample to fulfill this role. Hip hop also com-
monly features a variety of background vocal tracks, such as an answer
track (ii). These tracks can support the lead vocal in any number of ways.
Most often, these answer tracks will offer some type of agreeing senti-
ment with the lead vocal. For example, in Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Swimming
Pools’ (2012), the repeated phrase ‘drank’ supports the lead vocal as fol-
lows (00:13–00:26):

Pour up (Drank), head shot (Drank);

Sit down (Drank), stand up (Drank);
Pass out (Drank), wake up (Drank);
Faded (Drank), faded (Drank).

In addition to answer tracks, another type of common supporting vocal in

hip hop are ad lib tracks (iii). These tracks establish a quasi-improvisatory
feeling within the music through the provision of seemingly off-the-cuff
lyrics and vocables. In both classic and contemporary hip hop, often the
intros and outros of songs contain such ad libbed material. An example
of this type of vocal can be heard in Statik Selektah’s ‘Carry On’ (2014)
(00:13–00:24). Here emcee Joey Bada$$ delivers introductory ad lib
material while Statik Selektah provides instrumental support and scratch-
ing. The least audible, but certainly not the least significant, type of vocal
track featured in hip hop recordings are emphasis dubs (iv). These tracks
simply reinforce rhymes contained within the lead vocal.

Lead Vocal
When mixing lead vocals, there are few (if any) universally constant meth-
ods used by engineers. A variety of approaches for mixing vocals exist for
reasons such as physiological differences in human voices, differences in
tracking methods and differences in aesthetic goals from project to proj-
ect. Difficulty arises when one attempts to prescribe a best fit approach
for mixing vocals, particularly where specific numeric descriptions are
involved. There are, however, a number of general aesthetic tendencies of
hip hop vocals that can be described. The following sections will proceed
182 Matt Shelvock

this way by discussing the characteristics of exemplary hip hop vocals

within the scope of a mix composite. A number of general provisional sig-
nal processing maneuvers will be described in the following section, but
these examples merely provide starting points for readers.

Consistency
A key factor in maintaining vocal intelligibility throughout a given vocal
track is the overall consistency of amplitude. While skilled vocalists may
be conscientious of dynamic range throughout the tracking process, addi-
tional processing is often required to achieve a more consistent amplitude
level for the duration of a vocal track. Engineers can automate volume
manually or use a plugin such as Waves’ Vocal Rider in order to tame over-
all amplitude, or macrodynamic, issues within the vocal. Where slightly
more invasive peak taming is required, compression may also present a
good choice. A compressor with medium attack and release times, and a
light ratio and threshold, should address such peaks without providing an
abundance of timbral coloration.
In addition to macrodynamic shaping, a compressor can be used with
a microdynamic strategy in mind. Where the macrodynamics of a track
refers to its overall amplitude scheme throughout its duration, micrody-
namics refers to the dynamic characteristics of individual events within
the track. For instance, hard consonants at the beginning of words can
establish small amplitude spikes within individual words or phrases, and
in so doing create a microdynamic imbalance between the initial spike and
any proceeding lyrics. If problems such as this arise, a potential solution is
to apply compression with a light ratio and fast attack-and-release settings.

Balance with Instrumental

Once dynamic consistency has been established within a vocal, mix engi-
neers should begin to consider the dynamic and spectral balance between
the vocal and the instrumental tracks. As the human voice is a diverse instru-
ment, there is no one-size-fits-all description of how to achieve this balance;
however, a number of sonic considerations will be suggested in this section.

Lead Vocal and Instrumental: Low End

A common suggestion made to beginner mix engineers is to high pass
nearly every non-bass instrument around 100 Hz. Indeed, this type of strat-
egy aids in clearing up muddiness in a mix by removing extraneous low
end from non-bass instruments. Spoken male voices, however, range in
fundamental frequency from 85 Hz to 155 Hz (Titze, 1994); ergo, a high-
pass filter set to 100 Hz may attenuate some important spectral informa-
tion. Additionally, in rap music there is a tendency to provide down-tuned
vocals at times. This trend was heavily popularized by Houston-based
chop and screw artists and can be heard on Z-RO’s ‘25 Lighters’, for
example. Brooklyn-based A$AP Rocky has re-popularized this trend in
Groove and the Grid 183

a more mainstream way as heard on ‘Purple Swag’(2011), ‘Bass’ (2013)

and ‘Goldie’ (2012).
Rather than using a predetermined high-pass filter setting, mixers
should instead rely on their ears by sweeping through the low range from
50 Hz–150 Hz. The vocals should remain full sounding in order to fulfill
the aesthetic goals of hip hop, however. If both a full-sounding vocal and a
clean-sounding mix cannot be achieved, recordists must revisit instrumen-
tal tracks in order to remove competing low end.

Lead Vocal and Instrumental: Mids

Human hearing is attuned quite well to midrange frequencies, and as a
result mixes often contain a number of voices within this region. Common
examples of these sounds in hip hop include snare drums, guitars, organs,
pianos, strings and choir vocals. Given both our acuity in hearing frequen-
cies in this range and the availability of instruments with fundamental
frequencies contained within the midrange, there is a high likelihood for
instruments to mask one another within this range. For example, snare
drums often must sacrifice some midrange content or overall level in order
to make room for the vocal. In hip hop, this is perhaps the most common
mix issue within the midrange that must be addressed.
Additionally, different strategies for mixing midrange are necessitated
by different approaches to instrumentation. A Tribe Called Quest’s ‘1nce
Again’ (1996), for example, features a snare that is slightly louder than the
vocal. In order for the vocal to remain intelligible within the mix compos-
ite, some low frequencies are removed and the higher midrange frequen-
cies are emphasized and perhaps lightly saturated. This allows for a higher
frequency territory to be emphasized in the vocal than the snare, and aids
in maintaining listener separation between the two tracks.

Lead Vocal and Instrumental: High End

Vinyl samples often sound fairly saturated, and may contain lush strings
and loud percussion. Ab Soul’s ‘Mixed Emotions’, for example, sam-
ples ‘Merv’s Theme (Theme from ‘The Merv Griffin Television Show’)’
(1965).6 Upon inspecting the original sampled material, one hears loud
percussion and strings. Both sounds elicit a high-end shimmer, and sound
quite saturated—perhaps owing to the analog recording processes used
in 1965. In order to fit within Ab Soul’s track, the original sample has
been processed to remove some of the high-end frequency information,
and in so doing causes the instrumental sample to sound noticeably less
exciting. The end result is that Ab Soul’s voice can cut through the mix
and remain both intelligible and more exciting for the listener, because
the corresponding frequency information associated with these charac-
teristics is no longer masked by the sample. If vinyl samples, or other
instrumentation, maintain too much high-end harshness or excitement,
listeners may ultimately have difficulty focusing on the lead vocal and
instead may shift listener attention to the harsher or more exciting sound.
184 Matt Shelvock

Lead Vocals: Notes on Ambience and Air

Air often refers to frequency information above 10 kHz. This region can be
boosted quite simply via EQ, but this may yield artificial results depending
on the amount of additional gain required and the amount of processing
applied to the vocal already. Another, less invasive strategy in many genres
might be to add reverb, but hip hop features a conspicuous absence of reverb
on vocal tracks. As mix engineer Jaycen Joshua explains, “everyone knows
that reverb is the kiss of death on rap vocals. Reverb and rap don’t mix”
(Tingen, 2010). This primarily owes to the vocal delivery of rap, which
is often faster than other styles and more rhythmically intricate than pop
vocals. Additionally, reverb causes vocals to sound as though they are occur-
ring from a distance. Rap, however, often places an emphasis on aggressive
delivery and in-your-face attitudes. As such, standard reverb settings should
be avoided when trying to enhance air within a track. Where reverb is used,
however, a short, quiet reverb with a wide stereo image is often best. Another
viable technique may be to apply a small amount of multiband compression
to frequencies above 10 kHz, or perhaps a combination of a slight treble
boost and compression with a slow attack and fast release.

Background Vocals: Answers and Emphasis Dubs

In rap music, background vocals either answer the lead the vocal or provide
emphasis for rhyming, or quasi-rhyming, words. Busta Rhymes demonstrates
the vocal answer technique, for example, in ‘Woo hah!! Got You All in Check’
(1996 [00:20–00:26]). The hook of this track features Busta Rhymes stating,
“when I step up into the place aye oh step correct”, which is answered by a
separate vocal that exclaims, “woo hah (woo hah!)!” This additional vocal
is also heavily layered for emphasis. Vocal answers are not always so promi-
nent, however. For instance, in the Beatnuts’ ‘Watch Out Now’ (1999 [01:18–
01:20]), JuJu and Psycho Les state, “It doesn’t take much for us to let the
metal holler”, for which an overdubbed vocal repeats the word “holler”. The
overdubbed repetition of “holler” is quieter than the first, and has been treated
to exhibit less presence overall. Depending on the lyrical and compositional
function of an answer track, it may be more subdued, as with the Beatnuts’
example, or more of a focal point, as with Busta Rhymes.
Emphasis dubs provide an additional type of background vocal in hip hop.
These overdubs reinforce important rhymes and phrases rapped by the main
vocal. An example of the technique of emphasis dubbing may be found in
Dr. Dre’s ‘Still Dre’ (2001 [01:30–01:38]), where he states “And even when
I was close to defeat, I rose to my feet. My life’s like a soundtrack I wrote to the
beat”. The italicized sections are doubled with an additional voice. This voice
is quieter than the lead, with less harmonic complexity and dynamic range.
Background vocals such as answers and emphasis dubs demonstrate
a few sonically consistent tendencies within hip hop. With the exception
of songs where an answer lyric may be integral to the hook, background
vocals are processed to sound both smaller and less exciting than the lead
hook. In order to obfuscate these vocals slightly, a combination of filtering
Groove and the Grid 185

and reverb may be used. While reverb is the so-called ‘kiss of death’ for
rap lead vocals according to Jaycen Joshua, subtle amounts of reverb on
background vocals can be acceptable and will cause them to sound more
distant (Tingen, 2010). Both low- and high-pass filtering may also be used:
high-pass filtering will excise redundant low-end frequencies that already
exist in the lead vocal, and low-pass filtering will remove some excitement
and air from the background vocals. By removing high-end frequency
content and adding gentle reverb, engineers can effectively dull the back-
ground vocals, and will thus allow the lead vocal to maintain prominence.
Additionally, panning is used to remove these peripheral vocals away from
the center of the stereo image. Upon listening to ‘Still Dre’, for instance,
listeners will hear that emphasis dubs tend to be panned towards the left
perhaps 25% to 40%.

Conclusion

Mixing, production and beat construction may officially occur at different

stages within hip hop music making, but each stage tends to employ sev-
eral methodologies typically associated with traditional mixing. In fact,
as a music genre, hip hop is inseparable from the recording studio as a
by-product of the genre’s evolution from an underground phenomenon
based on sampling breaks. The DIY attitude present during the genesis of
the genre persists to this day, as evidenced by the popularity of samplers,
triggers and non-professional studios on shows such as MassAppeal’s
Rhythm Roulette, where celebrated hip hop producers construct beats from
music discovered while crate digging.
Core techniques associated with hip hop beatmaking, pre-production
and production are discussed throughout this chapter insofar as each
engages with the practicing of mixing recordings. The practice of mix-
ing hip hop, of course, is complicated by the fact that the exemplary mix
engineers discussed throughout this article, such as MixedByAli, may
add samples, synthesis or other compositionally significant material to a
project as a matter of course. While a number of crucial techniques and
processes are covered throughout this article, hip hop strongly favors indi-
vidualism and creativity as core aesthetic tenets. As such, those involved
in making hip hop music should feel free to experiment with, and expand
upon, the techniques provided throughout this chapter.

Notes
1 Demonstrations of this process can be seen on many episodes of Mass Appeal’s Rhythm
Roulette—a YouTube series that features celebrated producers and beatmakers such as 9th
Wonder, El-P and Kirk Knight. The show can be found at https://www.youtube.com/user/
massappeal (Accessed January 2016).
2 Different strategies may be used depending on both personal taste and the envelope of a
given sound. Beatmakers may deem it more appropriate to edit samples at the zero cross-
ing, or closer to the peak of the transient.
186 Matt Shelvock

3 Such irregularities are too precise to represent with standard notation. For example, occa-
sionally drummers may offset a snare drum intended to occur on beats two and four by a
few milliseconds. The drum in this case is still notated to occur on beats two and four, even
though the resultant groove has been effectively altered. This type of drumming can be
heard on Stax records and is a key feature of music played by Booker T and the M.G.’s, for
instance.
4 This patch can be replicated on other synthesizers. To aid with this process, an explanation
of a few Massive-specific options may be helpful. The “sin-square” wavetable option pro-
vides both sine and square wave input to oscillator one, and the “WT Position” set to 0%
ensures that only the sine wave can be heard. Additionally, Massive features four envelope
filters. Envelope filters 1–3 can be assigned to modulate other parameters within Massive
(but remain otherwise inactive), and Envelope 4 is a universal filter that all oscillators are
connected to by default. The 808 patch provided contains a discrete fundamental pitch that
can be altered by keying in different notes. If users want to hear more of the fundamental,
simply turn up the decay on envelope filter 4.
5 Where more punch is required, a duplicate version of this track can be added. This dupli-
cate should alter incoming MIDI data to sound an octave higher than the original, and
should also be filtered to eliminate spectral conflicts or masking with the initial bass track.
6 From A Tinkling Piano in the Next Apartment (1965) by Merv Griffin.

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F5LM2sCC_nncdjk7jCK7G [Accessed: 18 January 2016].
Rolling Stone. (2013). Eminem Reborn: Inside the New Issue of Rolling Stone. [online].
Available at: http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/eminem-reborn-inside-the-new-
issue-of-rolling-stone-20131120 [Accessed: 18 January 2016].
Scarth, G. (2013). Roger Linn on Swing, Groove & the Magic of the MPC’s Timing—Attack
Magazine. Attack Magazine. [online]. Available at: https://www.attackmagazine.com/fea
tures/interview/roger-linn-swing-groove-magic-mpc-timing/ [Accessed: 18 January 2016].
Groove and the Grid 187

Sencio, B. (2013). “Student of Hip-Hop” A$AP Rocky Talks His Unique Musical Style.
Hot937.cbslocal.com. [online] Available at: http://hot937.cbslocal.com/2013/03/18/stu
dent-of-hip-hop-asap-rocky-talks-his-unique-musical-style/ [Accessed: 18 January 2016].
Senior, M. (2010). Mix Rescue: Preslin Davis. Soundonsound.com. [online]. Available at:
http://www.soundonsound.com/sos/feb10/articles/mixrescue_0210.htm [Accessed: 18
January 2016].
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12

The Mix Is. The Mix Is Not.

Robert Wilsmore and Christopher Johnson

[E]stablish a logic of the AND, overthrow ontology, do away with founda-

tions, nullify endings and beginnings.
—Deleuze and Guattari (1987: 25)

Upon presentation of the mix, the one-is-not is made apparent. In our con-
tinuing exploration, as producers and academics, we will expand our dis-
course of the conceptual group The And and their singular composition
‘The Song of a Thousand Songs’. We will take a new line of flight in
discussion of the mix, which suffers similar ontological and existential
concerns, but we will also keep our feet on the ground and explore a song
that we have been involved in at a gritty level. Our aim, if we have one, is
to show how different perspectives on the mix as multiple reveal differ-
ent authenticities, different values and how these are constructed. Most of
all, we just want to play between one and many, between idea and audio,
between heaven and earth.
As our starting points we use Alain Badiou’s exploration of ‘the one-is-
not’ as it is discussed in the opening meditations of Being and Event ([1988]
2007, hereafter abbreviated BE), although we will leave aside the mathe-
matical set theory used to establish his arguments and borrow instead some
approaches to considering the multiple that will be of use to us. Second, we
make reference to the multiplicity, the one and the many, as it is thought
conceptually in Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus:
Capitalism and Schizophrenia ([1980] 1987, hereafter abbreviated ATP).
We can, if it helps, take a step back and simplify our concern for a moment
in order to make our starting point clear, while asking that the simplification
not be taken as a fitting reduction that expresses all our discussion.
The simplification is this: the is singular, mix is multiple, the mix then is
singular multiple. The definite and totalizing ‘the’ performs the act of sin-
gularizing (the making of the singularity) upon a concept that is multiple
(mix), for mix designates the former presence, the constitution, of more
than one. The mix refers to a past, a history, a former state (its multiplicity,
its state of being multiple) when the mixing was being done. At some point
the verb thickened, set and became the noun (did we allow the verb to set
or did we just run out of time and let it congeal?).

188
The Mix Is. The Mix Is Not. 189

Mix differs to one. Mix already concedes to a whole, a sum of its parts,
which is not the same as one. Its not-oneness is a predicate as how can it
be a mix of just one thing? To be pedantic, we would simply refer to that
operation as being ‘more of one thing’ rather than a mix. We might stop
there and say that our investigation is over; the one might be fought over
with regards to the existence of a constitution, but the mix never claimed
to be anything other than a result of plurality of some type, but we wish to
consider the mix through its coexistent one-and-many multiplicity and its
apparently paradoxical singular-multiple. The Deleuzian multiplicity, the
rhizome, is one and many, the binary one or many is not in operation here
and we have plumped (for function and as well out of pretentiousness)
for the word ‘themix’ to capture this. For Badiou, that one is multiple is
a starting point taken from Plato’s Parmenides (1931, hereafter abbrevi-
ated P) that includes a dialogue on ‘the one is not’ but then this one-is-
not is explored as different types of multiple, the inconsistent multiple
(pure multiple) and the consistent multiple (the composition of ones). On
discussion of Plato’s Parmenides, Badiou writes in the second meditation
“that in the absence of any being of the one, the multiple in-consists in the
presentation of a multiple of multiples without any foundational stopping
point” (BE 33). While the consistent multiple is the “composition of ones”
(BE 35), “the multiplicity of composition which is that of number and the
effect of structure” (BE 25). With these concepts in mind, we will speak
of these modes:

1. themix as the-one-and-the-many,
2. inconsistent mix as pure mix (the multiple without ones, pure multiple),
3. consistent mix as mix that is composed of ones.

This gives us three ways to view the mix: as one-and-many, as multiple

only, and as many ones. To keep some affinity to Badiou, we will often tie
that last two together in sequence, as if they formed through this opera-
tion a single multiple, a “situation” in Badiou’s terms. From these we can
identify the conflicting authenticities that concern us with regards to the
mix, particularly as our approach chooses to recognize that all modes can
co-exist, although at times in our thoughts (and the listener’s experience)
one mode will dominate over the others, and often observers will place
their truth according to what mode they favor.
We are not in a battle for the metaphysical high ground here (we’d lose
anyway), and we can but say sorry to the philosophers whose terms we
have remixed for our own purposes. We think we are probably closer in
our use of rhizomatics to that set out by Deleuze and Guattari than we are
to how the multiple “splits apart” (BE 25) in Badiou, but it is the splitting
apart of the multiple that interests us, in particular the differing results
that are seen in the split. We are aware that Deleuze and Guattari would
probably not be that keen on how we apply their concepts to pop music
(too striated and not smooth enough), even though they did shout at us
that ‘RHIZOMATICS = POP ANALYSIS’ (ATP 24), but we need ways in
which we can view the mix that help us to see what operations occur that
190 Robert Wilsmore and Christopher Johnson

produce the event, and these various points of recognition and observation
allow that analysis to take place to reveal the authenticities and inauthen-
ticities that dwell within mixes. No further apologies then; we have adopted
and adapted these ideas for functional reasons regardless of how far they
may have been shifted from their philosophical homes. Besides, we’re not
claiming to be in total control of what we are trying out here, but try we
will. We are about to dive from the stage unsure of whether we’ll be heroes
carried aloft by the crowd or zeros with broken legs as we hit the ground.
So far we have spoken only in general terms with regards to the mix
and to singular-multiple, and much of this might also hold true for the
crowd, the grass, the band (The And), the many, the “pigs, stars, gods . . .”
(BE 30), etc. In order to offer something more than a simple hypothetical
substitution of one with mix, we will engage at ground level among the
“mud, hair, dirt” (P 49) with the musician in the studio and their recorded
product and the relinquishing of their produced thing to the control of the
musician who will mix it (with other things) so that we keep on connecting
“and . . . and . . . and” (ATP 25). Producer number 1 (she who produces
the sound—the musician in the studio) to producer number 2 (she that
will mix) to producer number 3 (the listener that turns the treble up on the
radio). These entities are as real and as tangible as we may be able to draw
upon in order to tie the abstraction to the world of the music producer, and
we have to escape the philosophical abstractions at times and come down to
earth where abstracts can sometimes look rather awkward, like a fish out of
water. We cannot take the unveiling of the onion skin layers of the one (that
is not) down to an un-further-able Planck length, we cannot zoom in all the
way to a quark that is not a mix of anything but a true one (if indeed it is, we
don’t know, we’re not quantum physicists). But we can speak of connecting
the velocity of striking an instrument to the distance to the microphone to
the line between breakpoints on the volume automation on the computer
screen as contenders for ones or multiples that may constitute the count-as-
ones of the mix. We can speak of being lost in the music that gives inertia
to presentation which delays the count-as-ones. We can speak of the collab-
oration of the player, the mix engineer, the listener. We can speak of mixing
that thickens, sets and becomes the mix (noun = verb stasis).
Besides, the Socrates of Plato’s Parmenides is concerned to ask if the
Idea is one or many, the discussion of the one and the many of real things
is tossed aside as being so obvious as to be hardly worth considering:

If a person wanted to prove of me that I was one and many . . . he would say
that I have a right and a left side, and a front and a back, and an upper and a
lower half, for I cannot deny that I partake of the multitude. When, on the other
hand, he wants to prove that I am one, he will say, that we who are assembled
here are seven, and that I am one, and partake of the one. In both instances he
proves his case.
(P 48)

But we will indulge ourselves at ground level and talk about real things as
well as playing around with ideas up in metaphysical hyperspace, and we
The Mix Is. The Mix Is Not. 191

will consider a mix we have been involved in, and if we “cannot go beyond
the trivial statement that differences exist” (BE xii) then so be it, we are
content to dwell in the differences and see what they may reveal.

A Conceit

It is perhaps the right thing to do at this point to put forward our agenda,
our clash of interests, our conceit, in this discussion of the mix. We pro-
pose our version of the discourse of the one and the many in the form
of the conceptual song ‘The Song of a Thousand Songs’. We see all of
popular music, all songs, as being one song, we have removed all the (non-
musical) borders (composers, song titles, etc.) that force songs to separate
so that we can enjoy the ongoing symphony of the thematic development
that is popular music. All contributors to this song are part of one band, The
And, any internal differentiations such as The Rolling Stones or The The
are merely localized calibrations within the multiplicity. We are only retell-
ing an old story, one that simply agrees that rock n roll will never die. But
it had not occurred to us to consider the mix of ‘The Song of a Thousand
Songs’ or indeed the mixing engineers or the mixing of it as it is not yet,
and may never, set, although it has congealed in some places and has rather
overhardened in others. It might best be described as ‘lumpy’. It is always
becoming, it never becomes. It is always mixing; it is never the mix. The
mix is not.
We will consider our conceit later but for now we will explore our
approaches to the mix and offer observations of studio practice though a
song that the world might recognize as a song rather than the disputable
singularity of ‘The Song of a Thousand Songs’.

The Ukulele at the Start of ‘The Bins’

Just as Plato makes plain the obviousness of a person partaking in the one
and the many and quickly discards it, so we will throw away some of the
multiples that could be considered here and focus on particular arguments
to the exclusion of others. ‘The Bins’1 (Johnson, 2016) starts with a sin-
gle ukulele playing chords, a repeating pattern that makes up the phrase.
We can break this down to the chords, then each chord to the notes of the
chord, then each note to its fundamental and harmonics and its timbres,
durations, etc., that are parts of its count-as-one, but we will focus on par-
ticular events as we see fit and discard others so that we can at least shed
light on something rather than keep digging and become lost in the hole.
The ukulele in ‘The Bins’ was indeed one ukulele, and its sound to us
as listeners is of one instrument being strummed to produce the chord.
The means of producing this oneness, though, is different. When strum-
ming and recording the chords in the studio, it was evident to us that the
tuning was outside what was acceptable to us with regards to signifying
a solitary ukulele being played somewhere on a beach (‘The Bins’ is a
192 Robert Wilsmore and Christopher Johnson

song about the summer). In this case, a slight out-of-tune-ness was accept-
able, even desirable, in signifying some authenticity around the boy-on-
the-beach normality of the event, but this was not captured in our first
recordings (one ukulele strumming the chords); it was too out of tune for
our liking. In the end, we recorded each individual line on each string on
separate channels. Each channel had a pitch correction auxiliary attached
with a relatively slow response setting to allow the individual quality of
the ukulele’s character to come out before being moved to a standard pitch
set. That is, the notes have a charming out-of-tune character on the attack
but then soon become ‘in tune’. The four channels (one string recorded
on each) were then mixed together to produce the one strummed ukulele.
A number of these mixes were done with the intention of sounding as two
ukuleles being played and presenting one in the left and one in the right of
the audio spectrum. In the studio, we decided against having two ukuleles
and plumped for one in the final version.
So what of this entity, of its ontology (if it has being), of its multiplicity?
We are reduced to earthly perception at this point, to the phenomenology
of the event. Upon perceiving the event, the chord, we can say ‘there is
one’ (we can hear one chord, one ukulele), we perceive (or simultaneously
perceive) that this is multiple ‘there are pitches’ (plural). It carries the one
and the many of themix. Upon presentation, the chord is pure multiple,
nothing but mix to infinity, inconsistent mix. Upon presentation within the
count-as-one of the chord, the chord presents the notes; the count-as-one
has ones (consistent mix). What perhaps makes the mix of interest is that it
presents both its history and its present (at least with regard to its tuning, if
not to the performance of the chord which was played one note at a time).
We have written of the construction of the chord and its tuning and
have implicated ourselves in the acts of authenticity and inauthenticity
in the doing of it, so let us expose the semiotic of this further. Within the
consideration of the consistent mix of a chord, the chord is made of indi-
vidual notes (composed of ones). In this mode, we reveal the tempered
authenticity of the mix. Its authentic attack has the notes at the pitches
as they are played at the moment of striking the strings, but we are not
keen to maintain those pitches, so our pitch correction auxiliary quickly
moves them to a familiar tempered scale, which is clearly inauthentic with
regards to it no longer being true to the pitch of the instrument. Even then,
the notes are short lived; ukulele notes do not sustain for long anyway, so
the now-tempered remainder of the note has a very short existence, but it
is long enough to make a difference that can be registered by the listener.
This is the very thing of Western cultural appropriation—we have taken a
‘native’ instrument (as we might describe it in colonialist terms), the uku-
lele, full of quirk and charm, and allowed it at its surface, its instant pre-
sentation, to exhibit this beauty. But of course it is but a split second before
we drag each pitch into the straightjacket of Western pitch constraints (just
as supermarkets quickly dispose of any vegetables that are too crooked
and simply not straight enough to be sold to a public that apparently can’t
cope with wonky veg). This is, however, ‘The Bins’, a summer character-
ized by melted Tarmac, fly-ridden bins and de-icer drunk drunks, its social
The Mix Is. The Mix Is Not. 193

realism charmingly nostalgic in its depiction of a summer in an England

several thousand miles from the tropical beaches that might be inhabited
by flower-clad ukulele players. Subtle as it may be, the authentic–inau-
thentic co-existence within a single chord is also that of the representation
of summer itself within the song. Our British trappings of summer might
normally include Hawaiian shirts and Bermuda shorts, just as our national
dish seems to be the chicken korma (and we are not sure if we have shed
our colonialism and allowed our cultural multiplicity to exhibit the equal-
ity it deserves or whether this is a way of trying to maintain some kind of
ownership).
We have now hit the ethics of the mix. To have the notes bang on their
tempered scale from the attack would rid it of charm, dehumanize it, but to
keep it on its actual pitch from start to end would make us cringe (rightly
or wrongly). Neither singular approach would produce a result that we
would consider acceptable, so does this make the producer inauthentic or
even unethical? Should we accept the pitch as it is and proclaim ourselves
authentic? Let us go for another option that says that the producer’s tools
are as much the instruments of sound production as the musical instru-
ments are and not prioritize one over the other. Hence in this case we have
captured a bit of each, a new hybrid, a mix that is a one (or a count-as-one),
not a ukulele-and-Logic-software instrument but rather a ukeLogic, an
instrument that plays charming notes on the attack that then smooths out
the pitches into mathematically exquisite proportions that resonate with
the physics of our version of the universe. We are happily one and many,
confidently rhizomatic in removing the imposition of the authenticity bar-
riers that so concerned us ethically only a paragraph ago.
So what do our modes show us? They result in nothing more than what
we already knew, that we are already many, that we are authentic and inau-
thentic, but what it does show us is how this is achieved, and how different
values may be drawn from the same mix. From the point of view of the-
mix, we are comfortable in acknowledging the many influences that make
the whole. The pure, inconsistent mix is happy with its presentation for it
seeks no further analysis. The consistent mix draws our attention to the
chords, the ones of the count-as-one, only at this point when we consider
the consistent mix do we look into the ethics of divided notes within the
chords. Not surprisingly, there exists conflicting states in the presentation
of the mix. The inconsistent mix is happy, the mix is knowingly content,
but the consistent mix has issues. With this exposing of the complexities
of the multiplicity, it is no wonder that different opinions of the mix exist;
we merely choose, knowingly or otherwise, which mode or combination of
modes we favor when we put forward our judgment.

Comp and Circumstance

Even within our times as producers, we have noticed a significant shift

in the point at which contingency is at its greatest in the production pro-
cess. In the times of tape, we worked with the performers to get one good
194 Robert Wilsmore and Christopher Johnson

take, or maybe two or three that we knew would be what we would be

working with at the mix stage. This has changed considerably; we might
now have many many takes, multiple takes of fragments, and keep going
until we feel we have enough to the point where we have it covered more
than plenty so that we (or whoever is comping and mixing) will be able to
select from the great riches of the takes. What a pain this has turned out
to be—we have stored up for the producer the unenviable task of sifting
through the many ones (takes) to find the best pieces in order to construct
the best count-as-one. The job has become that of the forensic detective
carefully sorting through all the material evidence that has been collected
until they find a truth (or at least something that will hold up in court). The
truths we orbit are those of the three modes described and our intuitions
based on the varying weightings of these. At this point, we can observe
this moment of contingency through these modes, bearing in mind that the
presented multiple at the end of this process is designed to erase all the evi-
dence of the existence of the multiple takes. The very reason for the many
takes is to produce the one perfect performance; without the multiples,
the perfect multiple (an ideal pure mix) would not be possible. The final
count-as-one, a track in this case, be it vocal line, guitar solo or (Pythago-
ric) snare, should leave no sign of its former multiplicity (if the producer
is slick enough). This has a different analysis of the phenomenology of the
mix when compared to the multiplicity of the ukulele case study. In the
ukulele example, the decisions lead to an audible compound of authentic
and inauthentic tunings, but here nearly all of the takes have been rendered
inaudible, having been erased from the final version. In terms of percep-
tion, the many takes do not form part of the multiplicity because they
are not presented, having been erased before the event of presentation. If
we are not able upon hearing the line (the vocal, the guitar, the snare) to
realize its Frankenstein-like construction, then the takes are absent from
both inconsistent and consistent mixes. We will be aware of the makeup
of the line as notes (ones joined together), etc., but not the multiple takes
that have vanished in the comping process. Rhizomatically, this leaves an
abhorrent trace. This comped line has as its history multiple lines of flight
that have now been reduced and fixed by a trace. If we had kept all the
takes, we could show on the screen visually how the trace, the audible line,
jumps from one take to the next, muting out the track it has just left so that
the operation of the count-as-one is exposed as the muting and unmuting
journey across the tracks to create the final trace. The map from which the
trace came has been destroyed.
But that is the producer’s job, isn’t it? We have just made the art of mix-
ing the comp look like a criminal act, a fascist act, a Frankenstein’s mon-
ster that erases those parts that we do not wish to participate in the event,
only to leave the one (that is not one) for presentation. And isn’t that one
of the well-established criticisms of our art anyway? It suggests that there
is a true one, however flawed it might be, in the singular performance of
a line (one of the takes) that we have now technologized out of existence,
that we have obliterated the authenticity of the singular line of flight. This
argument prioritizes the performer above the producer as artist, but if we
The Mix Is. The Mix Is Not. 195

take the performer as the instrument and the producer as the player (she
that produces the sound from the instrument), then the criticism cannot
stand with regard to performance. We still have to deal with the erasing of
the histories, though. With regards to themix, this is problematic, because
we have disconnected from the map to produce the trace, and this trace,
the final mix of the line, asks us to accept it as a count-as-one devoid of
its ‘true’ composition (the multiplicity from which it is drawn) and thus to
recognize this presentation as pure multiple without history (inconsistent)
and as being composed by count-as-ones (consistent), but that this count is
made of ‘what is there’ and that ‘what is not there’ (i.e., the takes that are
left on the virtual cutting room floor) never existed. In real-world terms,
the line can be analyzed with regards to its notes, its phrases, it syntax, etc.,
without taking into account the map from which the trace is made. Again
this seems inauthentic, the idea that we are hiding the truth, the operation
of the presentation relies on the muting (which is the erasure) of the parts
of the takes that are not used. What then if we try to undo this monster?
In real terms, we could leave all takes to sound together, at the moment of
greatest contingency (available choices) we could reveal all lines of flight
by playing all takes together. The result would be an audible map, though
we may not be able to comprehend it as such if our brains cannot cope
with that amount of material. This result might be pleasing to the modern-
ist (and it is no surprise that A Thousand Plateaus begins with a musical
quote from a complex score by Sylvano Bussoti. Let us not be mistaken
into thinking that the postmodernist Deleuze was anything other than a
modernist when it came to music), but it makes no sense in the world of
pop in which we are producing. It would immediately be inauthentic pop
music because it does not hold true to our beliefs (the rules of our game).
The Beatles might have been proud to show off their engagement with
modernism and Stockhausen in particular at times, but that is OK, the pop
world includes the avant-garde in small doses. We might do the same, for a
short time and for effect, but it seems that our paradigm is not happy with
revealing the full extent of the map and relies on the trace for its authentic-
ity (although we will explain later with regard to ‘The Song of a Thousand
Songs’ how pop puts its traces back on to the map).
This trace, at presentation, has no history, and so we should not call it
a trace at all but perhaps give it its more usual designation of the line or
the track (in comping terms, the master track, but without its history it is
no longer the master anymore but just a plain old track). The track as pure
multiple is innocent (with no available history to condemn it); when we
notice it as consistent with regard to its composition of ones, they are also
innocent (they also have no available incriminating history either), themix
is no longer available to us (themix is not) because if it is to be an authentic
themix “the tracing should always be put back on the map” (ATP 13), but
we have erased this so it cannot be viewed as trace. Themix then is guilty
at this point because we know themix, if it is one, must have an available
map to be put back on to. The bodies may be missing, but we can still
prosecute (the ‘no body, no murder’ rule no longer applies) on the reason-
able grounds that there must have been bodies in order to produce themix
196 Robert Wilsmore and Christopher Johnson

(there is enough circumstantial evidence to convict the comp), otherwise

we cannot call it themix. Therefore, themix is guilty, whereas inconsis-
tent and consistent mixes are innocent because they are perceived only at
face value, as what is presented with no history assumed. Let us replace
innocent with authentic and guilty with inauthentic, and then by step from
authentic to real and inauthentic to not-real. These are not unreasonable
steps to take, particularly when we note that the results can be read as this:
“The mix is not real, it is fake, inauthentic” (themix); “the mix is real,
true, it has all the elements I love” (consistent); “this track is real, I’m so
lost in the moment right now” (inconsistent). Thus, we locate our truths
according to the mode that dominates the presentation as it appears to us.

‘The Song of a Thousand Songs’

(Metaphysmix edition)

There would seem to be a cutoff point in the mix that enables easy sep-
aration. In our song process we have recorded and mixed, at which point
we cease messing around with the parts because (having run out of time,
money or patience) we have to send the track on to the mastering process,
where it is given the audio version of steroids and made to conform to stan-
dards, so that when it is played on radio or streamed, etc., it will fit nicely.
It will be fixed, normal and hence acceptable. We are not as cynical as we
might sound about this; we are simply aware of this as a protocol rather
than a deliberate removal of difference for any political reasons (although
we are aware that this approach is also present in our industry). This proto-
col allows us to be admitted into the public domain, to become accessible,
searchable, mixable, playable to and usable by the many—without it we
could but be accessed by the few, maybe by those who wish only to fish in
places where the protocol does not apply, a place where a particular notion
of creativity has not been squeezed into a straightjacket. But that is not our
philosophy—we have accepted the protocol so that we can be in the game
and become the game.
If songs are separated largely by non-musical signifiers (the composers,
the song titles, etc.) we can “nullify endings and beginnings” (ATP 25),
for these starts and finishes are nothing more than segmentation caused
by the effect of imposing non-audio signifiers onto audio. When we do
this, we cease to operate within a representational system. There are no
longer identifiable ones of songs—the removal of the artificial beginnings
and ends has shown that they are actually all joined together. In fact, it is
not correct to say that they are joined at all, once we have removed the
sticky labels marked ‘beginning’ and ‘end’ we see underneath that there
is nothing but continuity. ‘The Song of a Thousand Songs’ is the result of
an asignifying rupture that is “against the oversignifying breaks separating
structures or cutting across a single structure” (ATP 9). It is no longer pos-
sible to remark that ‘one song is like another song’ because in the being of
the multiplicity there is no other, it is all ‘The Song of a Thousand Songs’.
Ones are not, multiplicity is. However, the pure multiple breaks down
The Mix Is. The Mix Is Not. 197

when we consider the consistent mix and themix; here we note that the
multiplicity has localized calibrations. As we have said, the mix is lumpy;
it has not set evenly and is somewhat congealed in places (which is not
consistent with Plato’s one, even a circle cannot be one because “the round
is that of which all extreme points are equidistant from the centre” (P 59),
hence the identification of center means it has parts and, although it may
be a whole, it is not one. The lumps in themix similarly show it not to be
one but many).
We should then nullify the mastering as signifying an end to the mix, for
mixing goes on well beyond this point. The mastering is only the protocol
required to connect to the map and enter into the becoming of the rhizome
of pop music. Mastering of course has many other functions, but our con-
cern here is only with its operation as an instrument for standardization.
We need to explore the mix post-mastering, and some of these mixes have
become art forms in their own right. The DJ seamlessly segues from one
track to another by mixing the ‘end’ with the ‘start’ (by tearing off the
‘sticky labels’). In this sense, the DJ is making a trace from the map, iden-
tifying and fixing a particular line of flight; although this is fleeting, he will
do it again another night perhaps but it will follow a different line, again
a fleeting moment that once gone reopens contingency. These are local
and unstable segmentations, a highlighting of one possible way through
the pop music rhizome. The mash up, the mixing of songs together, some-
times simultaneously although more frequently a DJ-like segueing of
tracks, shows us another way of highlighting themix. Detractors might
state that the mash up demonstrates the possibility of a reduction, the mere
fact that songs can be played together proves they are shallow ornaments
of an underlying truth such as a simple chord progression (this is the very
stuff of Adorno’s pseudo-individualism). But it does not have to be seen
that way; to take the reductionist viewpoint is but a preference, not a proof.
Again this is due to the imposition of separations caused by non-musical
signifiers; the songs in themselves (if they are) hold within them many
lines that accord to, for example, harmonic rules (a simple Schenkerian
analysis may quickly reduce a whole song down to a I-V-I progression),
so given the songs in the mash up are not separate at all, then they are
no different to a melody and countermelody in a Beethoven symphony
or the subject and countersubject of a Bach fugue. We are of course all
DJs, all mixers, piecing together our playlists. These playlists were once
fairly fixed; we made mix-tapes for ourselves and for each other, though
we might record over them with a new set of tracks a few weeks later. Now
our playlists constantly connect and disconnect from the map, new lines of
flight taken, or old ones highlighted, bits kept, bits replaced. We have an
immense available pool from which to draw upon courtesy of the master-
ing protocol that allowed them to be available, to become part of the map.
We are all mixers of the music, regardless of how much time was spent on
setting up the distance of instrument to microphone, the sweeping through
of frequencies (and probably reducing things at 500 Hz), the panning of
voices, etc.; once free of the studio we turn up the bass on our headphones,
the treble on our car audio and the mix continues to be unfixed. We are well
198 Robert Wilsmore and Christopher Johnson

aware of this—we mix for little headphones, for big speakers, for cars, for
radio—the continuation of the mix beyond our studio control is something
we plan for, an attempt to be as usable as possible within the multiplicity
of listening.
We have taken the inconsistent mix, the pure multiple, if it can be other
than an idea, to be the state of un-analysis in the user, the inertia that delays
the splitting of the multiple, the we have turned up the bass and, head nod-
ding, we are singing along full volume. As odd as a form of a pure multiple
might seem, it also seems to be the aim of the mixer, the producer. Do we
want to make engines for engine analysts to analyze and then admire our
greatness, to even notice that there are parts? Not really, that sounds like
a game of hide-and-seek, just like a crossword puzzle, the answers known
and then hidden for us to uncover. Not to put down crossword compilers
and solvers, it is indeed an art form of its own, but our goal is not so that
we might be analyzed and hence the pure mix, as we use the term, is our
preferred state. With the consistent mix awareness, analysis, begins to seep
in and cracks open the pure multiple. Themix is a more pragmatic, earth-
bound observation, it is how pop music works: one fabulous, continuous
symphony. We realize that in our discussions we have crossed over the bor-
ders of pretentiousness and that we have played irresponsibly, footloose and
fancy-free, with postmodernism and metaphysics in our quest to find out
what is going on in the mix. So what, it’s only rock ‘n’ roll, but we like it.

Note
1 ‘The Bins’ was performed by The And Ensemble, a subgroup of The And and York St John
University’s leading Deleuzian pop ensemble. Our thanks to band members Abigail Hall,
Joe Collins and Angus Williams for their fine vocal performances on the recording and
their ebullient antics on the video.

Bibliography
Badiou, A. (2007). Being and Event, trans. Oliver Feltham. London and New York: Continuum.
Deleuze, G. and Guattari, F. (1987). A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia,
trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press.
Johnson, C. (2016). The Bins. York: Q22 Records.
Jowett, B. (trans.) (1931). The Dialogues of Plato, Volume IV, 3rd edition. London: Oxford
University Press.
13

Mixing Metaphors
Aesthetics, Mediation and the Rhetoric
of Sound Mixing
Mark Marrington

Introduction

This chapter’s purpose is to evaluate concepts of mixing that have been

advanced through practice and writing on the subject, focusing on two
aspects in particular. The first relates to the sound mixer’s1 conception of
their role, entailing ideas about their position within the production pro-
cess and their relationship to other individuals. The second is concerned
with what sound mixers consider that they are doing with the recorded
material when mixing takes place. In particular, I wish to draw attention
to the rhetorical function of mixing, in other words, the role it plays in
presenting its (musical) subject matter convincingly and persuasively to
an imagined audience.2 Sound mixers, in effect, speak on behalf of the
artist, and in doing so take on a certain amount of responsibility for the
realization of the artistic vision. In practice, this entails a degree of medi-
ation, often involving mixing in reference to established ‘codes’ of record
production (in rhetorical terms, stylistic figures which ornament musical
discourse), as well as finding effective ways to articulate the material to
maximize its impact. The notion of mixer idiolect, which refers to situa-
tions in which this mediation begins to incorporate aspects of the sound
mixer’s own rhetorical style, highlights an interesting question regarding
the scope of the sound mixer’s creative contribution to the mix and the
role this potentially plays in determining the music’s message.3 Aside from
these specific lines of inquiry, my general aim is to provide a useful frame
of reference for interpreting the stated objectives of those who mix and the
ideologies that inform their practice.

Locating Aesthetics Within Mixing Practice

Over the last two decades, theoretical perspectives on mixing have

become consolidated in a substantial body of writing which includes
practitioner-led ‘how to’ guides, interview literature and the academically
couched discussions of production aesthetics contributed by the ‘musi-
cology of record production’ camp.4 From this literature can be discerned

199
200 Mark Marrington

particular ideological positions on mixing (and indeed on music produc-

tion in general) which form the basis of mixing aesthetics. Before consid-
ering this area in more depth, I wish to make some general observations
regarding the sound mixer’s place within the production process and their
relationship to the recorded material.
Mixing, in its most practical sense, is understood to be an autonomous
engineering specialty and largely the province of the mix or recording
engineer. This is reflected in the content of a number of the ‘how to’ type
of texts that focus on the principles of audio theory and offer extensive
commentaries on the various technical tools employed during the mixing
process (see, for example, Case’s Mix Smart (2011), Gibson’s The Art of
Mixing (1997/2005) and Izhaki’s Mixing Audio (2008)). In such discus-
sions, mixing is often painted as a series of problem-solving tasks, whose
function is to organize the recorded material to its best sonic effect—in
Stavrou’s words, “You’ll be assembling an intricate puzzle with dozens
of sounds. They have to fit together” (Stavrou, 2003: 161). Moylan offers
a concise summary of the activities that are typically part of the sound
mixer’s remit:
The mix of a piece of music/recording defines the relationships of individual
sound sources to the overall texture. In the mixing process, the sound stage
is crafted by giving all sound sources a distance location and an image size
in stereo/surround location. Musical balance relationships are made during
the mix, and relationships of musical balance with performance intensity are
established. The sound quality of all of the sound sources is finalized at this
stage also, as instruments receive any final signal processing to alter amplitude,
time, and frequency elements to their timbre and environmental characteristics
are added.
(2007: 233)

It is also generally accepted that these kinds of tasks take place at a late
stage in the record production process, usually further to the realization and
recording of the music, with the implication that there is a certain degree of
separation between the sound mixer and the original musical conception.
Hepworth-Sawyer and Golding (2011: 178–193), for example, posit their
“Capture-Arrangement-Performance” (CAP) model to express what should
be done prior to the mixing stage. For these authors, the often maligned
situation of “fixing it in the mix” implies shortcomings in these earlier
activities and instead, “mixing should be something that flows naturally
from the intended arrangement as set out by the producer and artist” (2011:
230).5 Izhaki (2008: 28) reiterates this point in his comment that “mixing is
largely dependent upon both the arrangement and the recordings”. Sound
mixers themselves acknowledge the importance of their independence rel-
ative to the main production process. According to Owsinski (1999: 8),
the vast majority of mixers would “prefer to start the mix by themselves”,
while acknowledging that ultimately they cannot ignore the ambitions
of the producer and artists for the mix outcome. Lipson comments that
“it’s far more useful to have the artist hear something complete . . . than
for them to hear the whole process of me getting to that point” (Massey,
Mixing Metaphors 201

2009:197). Stavrou in more forceful terms suggests that the mixer, “turf
the producer and band out of the control room” (2003: 151). Objectivity
and neutrality are also valued by sound mixers when undertaking mixing
tasks. Senior, for example, refers to the mix as “data” about which one
needs to be able to “make objective decisions . . . irrespective of your own
subjective preferences” (2011: 2).6 To facilitate this objectivity, Stavrou, in
an extreme gesture in keeping with his unique theory of mixing, has advo-
cated playing the mix backwards because it “removes the language out of
the music . . . leaving you only with shape, and harmonics galore”, creating
“a whole new psycho-acoustical playground to dive into” and forcing “an
unbiased view of the sounds” (2003: 232). The idea that the mix constitutes
a form of relatively neutral sonic data has had a particular currency with
researchers in the area of automated mixing, involving the development
of intelligent systems to facilitate the application of mixing techniques in
relation to quantifiable aesthetic outcomes. De Man and Reiss (2013), who
are at the forefront of this field, even go so far as to suggest that “mix-
ing multi-channel audio comprises many expert but non-artistic tasks that,
once accurately described, can be implemented in software or hardware”.7
It is apparent that the authors’ notion of the mixing process in this sense is
in part a response to the position held in the ‘how to’ type of texts that the
practice can be broken down into a series of engineering specialties.8
Although mixing is commonly articulated in terms of its engineering
techniques, it is rarely the case that sound mixers will remain completely
detached from the musical material they are dealing with. Indeed, even
in the purely engineering context, sound mixers will be likely at some
point to engage with the sounds they are mixing in terms of their musical
connotations, as illustrated by the common practice of relating musical
pitch to frequency values when applying EQ to tracks. ‘How to’ type of
texts directed at mix engineers and other audio professionals frequently
advocate the usefulness of musical knowledge when decoding what is hap-
pening in the mix. Owsinski (1999: 12), for example, notes that the ability
to balance the various instrumental timbres of the mix as it progresses
is facilitated by “understanding the mechanics of a well written arrange-
ment”.9 Moylan’s comprehensive pedagogical treatise, The Art of Record-
ing, throughout stresses the need for audio professionals (or recordists)
to correlate their engineering knowledge to “sound’s artistic elements (or
the meanings or message of the sound)” (2007:4), in reference to pitch,
loudness, duration, timbre and space. Case goes further, suggesting that
the sound mixer develop a broad range of musicianship skills, advising the
pursuit of “music studies, a music degree, and proficiency on more than
one instrument”, and suggesting that being a “gigging performer makes
you an even better mixer” (2011: 226). For Case, the purpose is to enable
the sound mixer to gain clearer insights into the song and therefore make
mixing decisions that are “supportive of the music” (2011: 227). It is with
such comments that we begin to move from a concern with overtly techni-
cal matters to a consideration of mixing aesthetics, a term which I use here
to refer to the broader artistic objectives of the mixing process relative to
the musical material.
202 Mark Marrington

From Objectivity to Mediation: The Development

of Mixing Aesthetics

Mixing aesthetics to a certain extent have been shaped by the evolution

of recording practice as well as technological developments that have
expanded the possibilities for manipulating sound. The notion of mixing
as a unique activity within the music production chain has its origins in
the early era of record production, when the term referred to the work of
an individual who ‘balanced’ the various instrumental parts during the pro-
cess of capturing them.10 One of the best known of these pioneering sound
balancer mix engineers is Tom Dowd (1925–2002), a pivotal figure in the
development of the Atlantic Records Rhythm and Blues sound during the
1950s and ‘60s. Dowd held the view, well into the multitrack era, that
records should be cut in a single take with all performers present at once:

During the late sixties and early seventies I did not want to use the overdub-
bing features of multi-track recording. If I had a five-piece group I wanted five
guys to play simultaneously and if I had a ten-piece group I wanted ten to play
simultaneously . . . Everything was done on the fly.
(Buskin, 1999: 165)

Mixing in essence was both the start and the end-point of production,
making its mark at the moment of recording itself. The remit of the mix
engineer was also to a certain extent informed by the musical subject mat-
ter typically being recorded, which was either fully worked out prior to
the sessions (arrangements of light music or classical music, for example)
or dependent upon the live performance situation for its realization (for
example, improvised jazz or popular music honed in a live band context).11
The music thus possessed its own integrity and there was generally no
expectation that its substance would be modified further once it had been
recorded, other than to correct major errors. Certainly, the mix engineer
would not have presumed to radically manipulate the material beyond the
point of its live capture.12
What mixing tended to reflect in this early period was a particular ide-
ology of record production that Lee Brown (2000: 361) has referred to in
metaphorical terms as the “transparency perspective”. This describes a sit-
uation in which “sound recording is understood on the model of a transpar-
ent windowpane through which we can see things undistorted”, implying
both accurate representation of the music and minimal mediation.13 This
attitude still remains current in the thinking of mix engineers today and is
often expressed in terms of an aesthetic of ‘responsibility’ to the integrity
of the music. For example, Armin Steiner, an engineer who possesses a
background in pop, classical and film score recording and mixing, holds
the view that “We are not interpreters. We are servants of the music, and all
we’re doing is taking down what the composer did, and hopefully putting it
down in the perspective that he heard” (Droney, 2003: 127). Bruce Swed-
ien, queried as to his “philosophy about mixing”, has commented that
Mixing Metaphors 203

It comes from my early days in the studio with Duke Ellington and from there
to Quincy [Jones]. I think the key word in that philosophy is what I would
prefer to call responsibility . . . our first thought should be that our responsi-
bility to the musical statement that we’re going to make and to the individuals
involved.
(Owsinski, 1999: 198)

Swedien also emphasizes the sound mixer’s purposeful distance from

the artistic conception when he says: “I firmly believe that what we do
as engineers can never win out over the personality of the music itself ”
(Massey, 2009: 48).
As multitrack recording facilities improved from the 1960s onwards,
bringing a re-assessment of the role of the studio in the creative process,
this attitude towards the recorded material subsequently became modi-
fied. First, mixing decisions could now be postponed until much later in
the production process and endlessly revisited. Second, there was scope
for the mixer to begin to reflect upon the recorded material creatively and
experiment with mix possibilities. This shift corresponded to the emer-
gence of what have since been referred to as entrepreneur-type producers
who began to make innovative use of the new possibilities of the mul-
titrack studio to develop their own production aesthetics.14 Having lit-
tle technical know-how themselves, such producers were usually reliant
upon their engineers to interpret their directions, as occurred, for exam-
ple, with Phil Spector, who worked closely with engineer Larry Levine
to develop his celebrated ‘wall of sound’ during the early 1960s.15 This
effectively gave license to the mix engineer to become a creative col-
laborator who could make subjective mixing decisions about the sonic
quality of records, in some cases raising their status to a position equal
to that of the producer.16
These developments naturally created a tension between old and new
mixing traditions, with some engineers weaned on the transparency
perspective increasingly finding themselves at odds with multitrack
production strategies that apparently distorted the inherent artistic
properties of the music and its performance. This is illustrated by Phill
Brown’s account of his experiences when working with the band Red
Box in the mid-1980s. After a lengthy process of recording and mix-
ing the band’s projected single, ‘Living in Domes’, Brown took his
completed mixes to Max Hole (A&R at Warner Brothers) for approval.
Hole’s response was to declare the mix of the track to be “too aggres-
sive”, which necessitated a return to the studio to revisit the material.
However, once back in the studio Brown found it problematic to alter
the mix because

the power (what Max had called the aggression) was in the playing and sing-
ing. I tried to tone it down using reverbs, echo and EQ. The chant vocals were
placed back in the mix but I thought this just made it feel weak. Trying to stop
the mix taking its natural course was frustrating.
(Brown, 2010: 268)
204 Mark Marrington

For Brown this was ultimately an irreconcilable situation: “once the record
company gets a foot in the door on discussions about overall sound and
mixes, it’s all over” (2010: 269).

Speaking on Behalf of the Music:

Mixing and Mediation

Brown’s anecdote raises the important question of what constitutes medi-

ation during the mixing process, and more particularly, where its limits
lie. In this scenario, the musical recording has been deemed by the sound
mixer to be speaking for itself; therefore, its message should be allowed to
pass unimpeded. The conflict occurs when the record company demands
a more active form of mediation to re-shape the material in accordance
with its commercial remit. Making inappropriate adjustments to the mix
to satisfy a commercial imperative might be regarded as an extreme form
of mediation, but even when such factors are not in play, sound mixers
will be still making a range of decisions that impact upon the substance
of the music they are mixing. What ultimately determines the outcome
here is the sound mixer’s approach to interpreting the material they are
dealing with. This of course implies a range of possible positions on the
mix, which is why, in a bid to ground their mixing approach, sound mixers
have frequently placed an emphasis on being able to accurately discern the
artist’s objectives. Stavrou, for example, remarks on the need for insight
into “the purpose of the song—the distinctive thread behind its creation—
or the heartbeat that inspired it” (2003: 175), while Gibson talks of the
requirement for the sound mixer to be sensitive to the “essence of the
song, or the primary message” (2005: 3) that is present, suggesting (in
an echo of the transparency perspective) that the “art of mixing” is “the
way in which the dynamics we create with the equipment in the studio
interface with the dynamics apparent in music and songs” (2005: 147).
This is where the aforementioned musical abilities and sympathies of the
sound mixer come into play. In essence, the task of the sound mixer is to
decode the inherent properties of the music, including melodic, harmonic
and rhythmic elements, and articulate them in a way that that coheres with
the artist’s intentions. Or to put it in Moylan’s words, sound mixers need
to employ the parameters of sound in “support of any component of the
musical idea” (2007: 67), with a view to “the communication of meaning-
ful (musical) messages” (2007: 37). Mixing, in other words, necessitates
being able to appreciate the rhetorical effect of the music itself and dis-
cover ways in which it can be enhanced by sonic treatment.
One metaphor that has been commonly used in the literature to sug-
gest the interpretative aspect of the sound mixer’s remit is ‘performance’,
which implies the construction (or invention) of an ideal musical rendering
of the multitrack from its constituent elements.17 Performance here refers
in particular to the articulation of the musical arrangement, which sound
mixers will typically consider in terms of the spatial configuration of the
mix and its evolution within the temporal domain.18 The spatial rhetoric
Mixing Metaphors 205

of the mix has been discussed and defined extensively in the literature,
from Moore’s “soundbox” (1993) to Moylan’s “perceived performance
environment” (2007: 263).19 What is usually being referred to is a virtual
three-dimensional space in which the elements of the mix are organized,
comprising depth (the sound’s apparent proximity to the listener), the hor-
izontal axis (placement of sounds in the stereo field) and the vertical axis
(individual frequency bands of sounds—sometimes expressed as height)
to construct the virtual ‘soundstage’ for the performance.20 A principal rhe-
torical use of spatial parameters is to mark significant musical elements of
the mix for listener consciousness, the choice of which will depend upon
the nature of the music being mixed and the sound mixer’s appreciation
of the relevant genre conventions (or codes).21 In commercial pop song
mixes, for example, EQ, panning and reverb may be used to foreground
the voice relative to the other instruments to draw attention to the pri-
mary artist, the lead melody and the lyric.22 The positioning of particular
musical elements in space can often be critical in conveying the essential
musical attributes of a given genre. In a house music track, for example,
the common practice of placing the kick and snare drums centrally has the
effect of maximizing the energy distribution of these sounds between the
two speakers, ensuring that the beat, a key rhetorical figure in dance music,
is communicated unambiguously.23 The sound mixer’s approach to space
can also help to contribute to the authenticity of the listener’s perception
of a given musical genre, in certain cases entailing the construction of a
spatial environment that did not exist during the recording process. In a
rock context, for example, where liveness and authentic musicianship are
valued, mix elements that were tracked separately might be staged in a way
that suggests they were performed together in the same space at the same
time, as well as treated sonically in a way that lends them immediacy.24 As
Moylan has observed, an important aspect of sound mixing is concerned
with creating “illusions of space” (2007: 52), and such illusions comprise
an important part of the rhetoric of recordings from the sound mixer’s
perspective. A final point to note is that genre-specific spatial configura-
tions of mixes tend to become conventionalized (or overcoded) with use,
as illustrated by Gibson’s extensive taxonomy of genre-based mix types
(2005) and Dockwray and Moore’s recent survey of ‘normative’ stereo
mixes created between 1965–72 (2010).25 While this can provide useful
consistency for the commercially inclined sound mixer, it also presents
opportunities to play upon such expectations and employ a spatial rhetoric
which is distinctive in its lack of observation of convention and becomes a
creative gesture in its own right.26
In addition to spatial concepts, sound mixers are also concerned with
the organization of the musical material in its own terms. This can entail
making adjustments to the both the structure and content of the mix to
improve the clarity and coherence of the musical ‘oratory’. Many sound
mixers, for example, consider that it is within their remit to contribute
opinions on the musical arrangement, and they may even take it upon
themselves to re-configure this during the mixing process.27 The kinds
of changes that a sound mixer might make to the recorded material can
206 Mark Marrington

include structural reorganization (such as re-locating a verse or bridge sec-

tion for example, or deleting a section) as well as the removal, replacement
or addition of specific musical elements (such as a drum sound, for exam-
ple). While from the mix engineer’s perspective such activities may be
regarded as being in the service of objective practicality—for example, to
resolve conflicts between instruments or improve a particular instrument’s
timbre—their role in determining the music’s character is nonetheless sig-
nificant. Another way in which the sound mixer can potentially re-configure the
message is by ‘curating’ the musical material—essentially making value
judgments about particular details of the mix and their potential to
improve the music’s impact. Senior, for instance, has highlighted an inter-
esting form of inadvertent creativity that results from discoveries made of
overlooked aspects of the original material, such as a tastefully performed
instrumental phrase or an imaginative ad-lib. He comments that

several times I’ve been congratulated for “putting a new part” into a mix, when
all I’ve done is dredge up one of the client’s own buried sounds that had long
since faded from their memory. The beauty of this trick when mixing other
people’s work is that it’s low-risk, because anything in the original multitrack
files implicitly bears the client’s seal of approval, whereas there’s nothing like
that guarantee for any truly new parts you might add.
(Senior, 2011: 85)28

The situation of the sound mixer as interpreter of the musical substance

can become more problematic when confronted with mixes whose artistic
vision is so specific and unique that there may be many possibilities for
how the mix should be achieved. This is illustrated by the work of Scott
Walker, who, since the 1980s, has developed an increasingly personal and
uncompromising artistic language (see, for example, the songwriting and
production on such albums as Tilt (1995) and The Drift (2006)). The ambi-
guity of Walker’s song structures, coupled with the wide-ranging timbral
palette of his arrangements, has presented particular challenges for the
sound mixing process. As Walker’s engineer Peter Walsh, has stated in
reference to mixing the recent album, Bish Bosch (2012), “It’s very dif-
ficult, ’cause where do you start? . . . It is very much each song for its
own” (Doyle, 2013). Clearly, an objective approach is not an option here
because there are no general standards by which the artistic vision can be
appreciated—in other words, there is no established rhetorical category for
mixing this music, nor an imagined audience. On the other hand, a sub-
jective position would be liable to lead to a misinterpretation of the artist’s
intentions. In such instances, a close collaboration between sound mixer
and artist is likely to yield the most satisfactory results—indeed Walsh has
been Walker’s long-time engineer since 1984, in effect qualifying himself
to deal with the latter’s artistic vision from the sound mixing perspective.
Regardless of the interpretative stance taken by the sound mixer towards
the materials of the mix, all the decisions made during the mixing process
inevitably modify the sonic properties of the music in one way or another,
with potential consequences for its message. This applies even to the most
Mixing Metaphors 207

minor tasks that mix engineers consider are simply corrective, such as
making adjustments to the timing or tuning of audio material (‘perfect’
production is itself a rhetorical gesture), while with the use of staple tools
such as the EQ and the compressor, the mixer is potentially moving into
the territory of sound design.29 Stavrou’s position on mixing aesthetics (in
his book, Mixing with Your Mind) is notable for its emphasis on the active
role that studio devices can play in sculpting the musical vision. Indeed,
the creative use of tools arguably constitutes his definition of the art of
mixing. To this end, he devotes a great deal of discussion to re-thinking
the employment of EQ, compression and reverb in terms of their musical
possibilities. In regard to reverb, for example, Stavrou suggests that the
effect’s ability to alter time relationships in a track is more important than
what it indicates about the space the mix is in: “Reverb isn’t so much about
being true to an acoustic space, it’s more about the effect it has on the
groove”. He also suggests that in certain cases “the only purpose of some
instrument is to become a key input for an interesting reverb effect” (2003:
182).30 In other words, the mix engineer ought to be actively seeking out
material in the multitrack that would provide an opportunity to use a par-
ticular tool to embellish the music.

Idiolect in Mixing: Mediation as Transformation

One final aspect of the rhetoric of mixing that I wish to consider, which
has already been touched upon in the preceding discussion, is the notion
of mixing idiolect. Idiolect is a term derived from semiotic theory, which
is usually employed to account for the specific identifying fingerprints
of individuals within areas of broadly consistent practice.31 In effect,
this implies the assertion of the sound mixer’s creative personality upon
the material of the mix and might thus be regarded as the antithesis of
the transparency perspective. Certainly in some quarters, this has been
regarded as crossing the line. Bill Bottrell, for example, has expressed a
particularly negative view of engineers who allow their own creativity to
take precedence during the mixing process:

It all started to go wrong in the late ’70s when engineers and producers started
being allowed to impose their frustrations as musicians on the records. And
that should never have happened. Because the artists know what to do, if they
are really an artist, and the producer should just set up a situation where the
artist feels free to do what they do. The engineer should just record it and get
out of the way.
(Droney, 2003: 17)

Bottrell even goes so far as to suggest that artists have been “brainwashed”
to think that it is an engineer’s prerogative to impose ideas, and that “there’s
a whole generation of artists who think that’s how records are made, and
they don’t question it” (2003: 17). It is clear that Bottrell’s view is not
widely shared, however, as evidenced by the many sound mixers who place
208 Mark Marrington

an importance on the development of a personal mixing style. Often the

notion of idiolect in sound mixing is tantalizingly hinted at in the mixing
literature without being specified. Senior, for example, who makes much
of the notion of the mixer’s objectivity, acknowledges that “entirely sub-
jective decisions do have a place in the mixing process” and that these
“distinguish one mix engineer’s personality from another” and are “essen-
tial for the development of new and exciting music”. However, he gives no
examples, stating that “I can’t help you with the truly subjective decisions”
(Senior, 2011: 57).
To provide an illustration of what idiolect might entail in this context,
I wish to consider Martin Hannett’s mixing approach with post-punk band,
Joy Division (and their later incarnation as New Order).32 Hannett (1948–
1991) is an interesting figure for a number of reasons. He possessed a
scientific background as well as extensive knowledge of music technol-
ogy, including expertise in synthesis. He was also a performing musician
with an appreciation for avant-garde electronic music and dub, both of
which arguably had a significant influence on his attitude to mixing—the
former because it foregrounded sound design and signal processing, the
latter because it encouraged mixing on the fly, the use of effects and
the treatment of the multitrack with a certain amount of malleability.33
We thus have an individual within whom were combined an accomplished
engineering skillset and a distinctive repertoire of musical influences.
In the studio Hannett clearly saw himself as moving freely between pro-
ducer and mixing engineer roles, taking responsibility for the organization
of the recording process as well as mixing the material ‘hands on’ at the
desk.34 One of the most notable aspects of Hannett’s approach in his pro-
ducer guise was his method of garnering performances from the band in a
form that would allow him a great deal of flexibility during the mixing pro-
cess. To this end, he usually insisted upon the separation of the band mem-
bers during tracking, taking this to extremes with drummer Steven Morris
who was required on more than one occasion to dismantle his kit and
record the various drums onto individual channels.35 In traditional fashion,
Hannett undertook the mixing after the recordings had been completed
and the band had left the studio. His approach during this process was to
re-contextualize the raw material within the spatial domain using the vari-
ous studio tools in his possession, and in particular the AMS DMX 15–80
digital delay, which he employed repeatedly on the band’s recordings.
For Hannett, delay, chorusing and reverb were “gifts to the imagination”
because they made it possible to add “little attention-grabbing things, into
the ambient environment, just in case interest was flagging in the music”
(Savage, 1992). This is redolent of the mixing aesthetic advocated by
Stavrou, in which the creative possibilities of technological tools are fore-
grounded in the mixing process. Interestingly, Hannett’s motivation for
using such effects appears to have been to compensate for the sparseness
of the raw material. In a 1989 interview, he stated that, “there used to be a
lot of room in the music, and they were a gift to a producer, ’cos they didn’t
have a clue” (Savage, 1992). In other words, he took what he perceived
Mixing Metaphors 209

as the band’s underdeveloped artistic vision as a cue to elaborate their

material. The effect of Hannett’s experiments was to substantially alter the
dynamic relationship between the band members, particularly where the
strength of the guitar was concerned, giving priority to Ian Curtis’s vocal
and thereby underpinning the latter’s idiosyncratic poetry. Journalist Chris
Ott has provided an apt summation of Hannett’s re-configuration of the
guitar part on the album Unknown Pleasures (1979):

Hannett’s equalization cuts the brunt of Sumner’s fuller live sound down to an
echoing squeal. In search of vocal clarity and space for delay and reverb to ring
out, Hannett relegates the guitar to hard-panned stereo placement in later tracks
and thins the robust double-humbucker sound of Sumner’s Gibson SG.
(Ott, 2010: 64)

While the result was a sonically groundbreaking record which cemented

Joy Division’s reputation, the response of some of the band members to
what Hannett had done was decidedly hostile, as guitarist Bernard Sumner
commented:

We played the album live loud and heavy. We felt that Martin toned it down,
especially the guitars. The production inflicted his dark, doomy mood over the
album; we’d drawn this picture in black and white, and Martin coloured it in
for us. We resented it, but Rob [Gretton] loved it, [Tony] Wilson loved it, the
press loved it, and the public loved it. We were just the poor, stupid musicians
who wrote it.
(quoted in Savage, 1994)

Tankel (1990), in reference to the practice of remixing, has used the word
“recoding” to describe what takes place when remixers re-imagine the
materials of an existing studio multitrack to discover new perspectives on
the original recording. ‘Recoding’ would also seem to be an apt word for
what took place in Hannett’s case, especially given the subsequent conflict
between the band’s sense of its ‘live’ identity and what was created in the
studio.36 Remixing, for the purposes of the present discussion, can usefully
be regarded as a subbranch of mixing practice in which the sound mixer is
given carte blanche to be creative. In other words, there is no question here
that idiolect should be sought. What the practice also highlights is the fact
that the mix is not a fixed entity, or a definitive statement, and that there
can be many legitimate opinions on what the best approach should be.
In this sense, it is a thought-provoking question as to whether the record
would have been as successful had the basic recorded material been mixed
in a way that simply clarified its essence (“in black and white”) rather than
elaborated it (“in colour”). A final point worth adding is that in the wider
context of record production, Hannett is often cited as an architect of the
1980s’ Manchester post-punk sound.37 This suggests that his idiolect was
potentially more far-reaching than his re-molding of Joy Division, serv-
ing to define (or re-define) a domain of practice within that scene more
generally.38
210 Mark Marrington

Conclusion

This chapter has considered some of the ways in which sound mixers
can be implicated in the communication of the message of the record-
ings they mix. I have suggested that although on one level mixing can
be regarded as a technically oriented engineering activity whose pur-
pose is to put the best sonic face on a given musical recording, it cannot
avoid having a bearing upon the articulation of the artistic elements
therein. This is because sound mixers are caught up in particular ideol-
ogies of record production that define their mixing aesthetics and deter-
mine how they mediate the material. Sound mixers must make a variety
of decisions in accordance with these aesthetics, whether in the service
of achieving a transparent rendering of the music, responding to a com-
mercial remit or searching for the best means of expressing a unique
artistic vision. The sound mixer also has a rhetorical function relative
to the recorded material, because they essentially speak on behalf of it.
This requires an ability to interpret the material in reference to the spe-
cific rhetorical devices expected by the audience in a particular musical
context.39 As Gibson has commented, “the mix should be appropriate.
Appropriate for the style of music, appropriate for the song and all of
its details, and appropriate for the people involved” (2005: 48). To this
end, conversance with a wide range of record production approaches is
advocated by sound mixers, as Case (2011: 226) comments, “We need
to know our history—enjoy and study the most important recordings
in our chosen styles of music . . . avidly seek out and analyze the most
popular contemporary recordings”. Indeed, it is this conversance with a
broad range of record production strategies that potentially determines
the scope of what a sound mixer’s creative contribution might be to a
mix. Thus, those sound mixers who adhere closely to specific genre
contexts might produce conservative but nonetheless commercially
viable mixes, while those who are open to drawing intertextually from
across different genres are more likely to be innovative.40 Ultimately,
it is an eclectic approach that enables the ‘art’ of mixing to progress,
because it admits of elements that are likely to re-configure the param-
eters of a given mixing domain.41 This latter point I have illustrated
in terms of idiolect, whereby the sound mixer may place a stamp of
individual identity on the musical material that has little to do with
the artist’s intentions or commercial imperative. Finally, it must not be
forgotten that the intended target of this rhetorical activity is the audi-
ence, whose interpretation of the message is not necessarily predictable.
Thus, sound mixers must also take pains to anticipate the general effect
of their work here, as illustrated by the common practice of gauging
the impact of completed mixes through playback via typical consumer
audio systems, such as car stereos, mobile phones and laptop speakers.
If the sound mixer can secure the audience’s accurate perception of the
mix in acoustic terms, they may stand a good chance of ensuring the
accurate reception of its message in artistic terms.
Mixing Metaphors 211

Notes
  1 I use the term ‘sound mixer’, derived from Kealy (1979), throughout this discussion
to refer to an individual who mixes the multitrack at a point post the initial production
stage. This is not to discount the fact that mixing can also take place during the pro-
duction process itself. However, as will become apparent, my discussion is founded on
the idea that sound mixing takes place in reference to an already defined vision of the
production.
  2 In addition to the general discussions of rhetoric as persuasive speech that can be found
in classic modern treatises, such as Corbett (1998), my thinking on rhetoric in relation to
record production and popular music studies is also informed by discussions in Brackett
(2000), Zak (2001) and Toft (2010).
  3 My use of the words ‘code’, ‘idiolect’ and ‘message’ also implies semiotic theory, of
which rhetoric is considered to be an adjunct. See, for example, Eco (1976: 276–288) and
Tarasti (2012: 271–300).
  4 Approaches to discussing the subject in the practitioner literature are also reflected in the
columns of the trade periodicals (Sound on Sound, Computer Music, Tape Op, Mix, etc.).
Supplementing the practitioner guides are also a number of interview compilations—
Schwartz and Stone (1992), Buskin (1999/2012), Droney (2003), Massey Vols. 1 and 2
(2000/2009)—which frequently draw out references to mixing practice, as well as some use-
ful autobiographical accounts by mixing engineers and producers including Phil Ramone’s
Making Records (2007) and Phill Brown’s Are We Still Rolling? (2010). The other major
source of contribution to the discussion has come from academics working in the “musi-
cology of production” field, including Moore (1993/2001), Zak (2001), Doyle (2005) and
Zagorski-Thomas (2014). Typically, writing in this area has been concerned with notions
of ‘staging’ and the classification of mixing strategies relative to era and particular musical
genre.
  5 See the discussion of fixing it in the mix in Hepworth-Sawyer and Golding (2011: 227–
28). ‘Fixing it in the mix’ is an ideological position that is becoming more acceptable,
particularly in the context of the DAW where compositional and arrangement decisions
can be postponed well into the mixing stage.
  6 Indeed, “objectivity” is a word which recurs frequently during Senior’s discussions of
mixing.
  7 Italics are my emphasis.
  8 De Man and Reiss’s provocative conjecture that mixing involves “non-artistic” tasks is
particularly debatable given that even the most minor adjustments to the sound may have
the potential to impact upon the music’s message.
  9 Gibson (1997: 4) notes that “The recording engineer is quite commonly the most knowl-
edgeable person in the studio when it comes to being aware of all the types of musical
instruments and sounds available.”
10 Indeed, many mix engineers still refer to mixing in these terms. The subheading of Stav-
rou’s book, Mixing with Your Mind (2003), for example, states that the author is offering
“Closely guarded secrets of sound balance engineering”. See Hodgson (2010: 149–157)
and Owsinski (1999: 2–6) for further discussion of the historical evolution of mixing and
the mix engineer.
11 For a detailed discussion of the ontology of recorded music, see Gracyk (1996).
12 This is not to imply that the recorded material was not re-edited extensively during
the production process in this era, as occurred even in the case of classical music. The
purpose, in most instances, was nonetheless to achieve a close correlation to the live
rendition.
13 See also Moorefield’s (2010) notion of the “illusion of reality”.
14 See Kealy’s classic essay ‘From Craft to Art’ (1979) for a full assessment of the devel-
opments that occurred this period. Moorefield’s The Producer as Composer (2010) also
contains relevant discussion.
15 It is worth noting that much of Levine’s contribution to the mixing process occurred
during the recording stage (i.e., in the live capture mode).
212 Mark Marrington

16 Indeed, it is from this point that production and mixing tend to become more synonymous
as producers explored mixing, and sound mixers explored production. This perspective
is accommodated in mixing theory. Moylan’s use of the word “recordist”, for example,
describes the conflation of recording producer and engineer—in other words, an individ-
ual who mixes music that they have also played a key role in shaping during the recording
process. Kealy (1979) has used the term “artist-mixer”.
17 Zak (2001: 141), for example, states that the object of mixing is to create “a composite
image of an apparently unitary musical performance”. Moylan (2007: 319) suggests that
“the actual process of executing the mix is very similar to performing”. Golding and
Hepworth-Sawyer (2012: 182) have notably compared the role of the modern mix engi-
neer to that of an orchestral conductor, presumably because sound mixers, like conduc-
tors, are essentially dealing with a type of blueprint for a potential musical performance.
18 Musicologists have used words such as “montage” (Zak, 2001: 141) and “sonic narrative”
(Liu-Rosenbaum, 2012) to account for the ways in which sound mixers may be thinking
when considering the mix in terms of its temporal evolution.
19 Albin Zak (2001:141–160) has also outlined a spatial theory of mixing based upon
George Massenburg’s “four dimensional space model”.
20 I borrow this term from Moylan (2007: 328).
21 It is apt, where rhetorical ideas are concerned, that Hodgson (2010) refers to mixing as
“the space of communications”.
22 There is an interesting discussion in Senior (2011: 122) concerning what is sacrificed or
reduced in the service of foregrounding particular elements that suit the mix style.
23 For a thoughtful account of the rhetoric of dance music, see Hawkins (2003). Snoman
(2014) also provides many useful insights into dance music mixing.
24 As Moylan (2007: 195) notes, “the characteristics of this envisioned performance envi-
ronment will greatly influence the conceptual setting for the artistic message of the work.”
25 For a particularly interesting discussion of the spatial strategies of a particular era of
record production, see also Doyle (2005).
26 For suggestions as to what this flouting of convention might entail, see Dockwray and
Moore (2010) and Liu-Rosenbaum (2012).
27 Gibson (1997: 1) notes that “even when there is a producer, he or she will rely heavily on
the values and critiques of the engineer. In fact, groups often go to major studios solely
because of the production assistance they get from professional recording engineers.”
28 Again, the transparency perspective is implicit in the sense that mixing here is about
locating some essence of the artistic vision that needs to be accurately perceived and
faithfully transmitted. Stavrou (2003: 175–176) also echoes Senior’s idea when he recom-
mends “searching the tracks for the most inspiring player”.
29 An EQ, for example, is potentially acting like a synthesizer filter and can certainly remove
a sound a considerable distance from its natural state, while the compressor can be used to
substantially alter a sound’s envelope and rhythmic characteristics. For further discussion
of sound shaping aspects of recording practice, see Moylan (2007: 46–47).
30 Stavrou’s discussion of reverb (2003: 181–189) contains many interesting observations
regarding its creative use.
31 For further contextualization of “idiolect” and examples of its use in analysis see Eco
(1976), Middleton (1990: 174) and Ibrahim and Moore (2004: 139–158).
32 This includes their seminal album, Unknown Pleasures (1979) and its follow-up, Closer
(1980), as well as their early work under the name of New Order on the album Movement
(1981).
33 Discussion of Hannett’s background can be found in Sharp (2007).
34 While Hannett was assisted by Chris Nagle (engineer at Strawberry Studios, Stockport)
during a number of Joy Division sessions, it is clear that Hannett regarded himself as the
one doing the mixing.
35 For accounts of Hannett’s recording approach by members of Joy Division, see Reynolds
(2009: 229–243) and Hook (2013: 150–159).
36 To hear the difference, it is instructive to listen to the band’s early recordings under
the name of Warsaw, particularly their 1978 version of ‘Transmission,’ which Hannett
re-recorded and mixed in 1979.
Mixing Metaphors 213

37 See, for example, the sleeve notes for the retrospective single collection, Zero: A Martin
Hannett Story 1977–1991.
38 Reynolds (2005: 187) notes, with great insight, that “Hannett believed punk was sonically
conservative precisely because of its refusal to exploit the recording studio’s capacity to
create space.” For discussion of Hannett’s contribution in the general context of post-
punk, see also Witts (2009).
39 Hepworth-Sawyer and Golding’s concept of “Production Plotting” (2011: 177) is also of
interest in this regard.
40 Albin Zak’s discussion of “resonance” in The Poetics of Rock (2001: 184–197) provides
much food for thought here.
41 I use “domain” here in the Csikszentmihalyi sense of the term. Summarized broadly,
Csikszentmihalyi (1988: 325–339) considers creativity relative to the particular environ-
ment within which the individual operates. He uses the term “domain” to refer to an
existing context of practice from which one assimilates patterns of creative approach
(the rules of the game as it were) and “field” to refer to the social factors (namely people
and institutions) which determine those creative contributions that are most likely to be
accepted into the domain.

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14

Mix as Auditory Response

Dr. Jay Hodgson

Research on record production almost always reproduces a crucial mis-

understanding about the material nature of recorded musical communi-
cations, namely, that when we listen to records we hear distinct acoustic
phenomena—like kick drums, electric guitars, sequenced claps, singing,
et cetera—rather than a single acoustic phenomenon, produced by speaker
and headphone technology, designed to trick the human hearing appara-
tus into believing it detects the presence of distinct acoustic phenomena.
Hearing Led Zeppelin’s ‘When The Levee Breaks’ (1971), for instance,
one might think they hear a kick drum, a snare drum, hi-hats, cymbals,
rack and floor toms, an electric guitar or two, electric bass, some blues
harp and Robert Plant’s plaintive vocal wails. But what they actually hear
is a single acoustic phenomenon, a single sound, produced by speakers
and headphones, designed to trick their auditory apparatus into believing
it detects the presence of numerous distinct acoustic phenomena (like kick
drums, and snare drums, and a blues harp, and so on). And the same goes
for less figurative records, of course. Listening to Deepchild’s ‘Neukoln
Burning’ (2012), for instance, we probably think we hear a sequenced kick,
design-intensive synths, slowed vocals and numerous other ‘non-veridic’
sounds.1 What we actually hear, though, is a single sound that portrays
those sounds. In overlooking—or, perhaps, in simply not realizing—this
basic fact, analysts mistake the subject of a recorded musical communi-
cation (i.e., the performances and broader musical contents recordists use
sound to portray) for communication itself. In turn, the artistry of record-
ing practice—the myriad musical things that recordists do—are kept from
the scholarly record, except perhaps as a mere ‘technical support’ for the
‘true arts’ of performance and composition. It’s as though an exciting new
field has emerged that wants to study, say, fashion photography, but only in
terms of how models pose.
If analysts are to speak about records with any sort of clarity—if we are
to truly grasp what recordists and listeners actually say, and hear, when
they communicate by record—a complete critical realignment of music
production studies at large is required. At present, this academic terrain is
largely dominated by cultural studies and musicological work, which fol-
low a similar methodological paradigm, both of which tend to see record

216
Mix as Auditory Response 217

production only as an indication of broader social and historic trends.2 But

something more permanent happens each time someone makes and hears a
recorded musical communication, regardless of their social situations and
historical contexts. Indeed, a ‘universal poetic’ undergirds every recorded
musical communication, and analysts of every disciplinary stripe, with any
level of musical expertise, can see and hear this ‘universal poetic’ at work,
if only they would don the right analytic lens. Thus do I offer this ‘theory
of record production’, which considers recorded musical communications
as exchanges of auditory rather than acoustic information, that is, which
hears recorded musical communications as auditory representations of
sounds rather than as sounds per se. This theory is unique, insofar as its
broader analytic perspective on record production doesn’t exist anywhere
else in print. This said, some of its components derive from cited sources,
and an expanded and significantly altered version of what follows was used
as the text for an electronic photo essay that I composed with the Canadian
visual artist Steve MacLeod.3 In keeping with the broader theme of this
volume, though, I emphasize the crucial role mixing plays in recorded
musical communications at large in this essay. In fact, I will even go so far
as to argue that the most meaningful way to consider the aesthetic content
of any record is as a mix, that is, as an auditory response to sounds—a
past-tense, precisely repeatable auditory narrative that explains how some
sounds were once (ideally) heard—rather than as sounds per se. It is my
humble hope that doing this provides analysts with a useful clarification of
the communications paradigm they study, and that it spurs recordists, and
recording musicians in general, to reconsider certain fundamental aspects
of their creativity.

Past-Tense Auditory Narratives

Aesthetically speaking, two things are heard simultaneously whenever a

record plays: (i) some sounds in particular and (ii) a certain spatial arrange-
ment of those sounds (i.e., a mix). The sounds one hears when they listen
to a record simply cannot exist except in such an arrangement. Thus, one
only ever hears a mix when they listen to a record.
This is the case even when the record features only solo performances.
Consider, for instance, Nick Drake’s ‘Horn’ (1972/2003).4 The fifth track
on Drake’s classic Pink Moon (Island: 1972) LP, ‘Horn’ is an instrumental
segue, played by Drake on an acoustic guitar, which connects ‘Which Will’
(1972) to ‘Things Behind the Sun’ (1972), tracks four and six respectively
on the album. ‘Horn’ consists of a simple improvised melody in C# minor,
plucked over a tonic drone. However, the guitar is situated somewhat right
of center, and it fades out during the last four seconds. This happens every
time the record plays; there is no getting around this auditory point of
view. As such, ‘Horn’ is not simply a sequence of pitches and silences
performed on an acoustic guitar. It is, rather, an auditory response to a
sequence of pitches and silences, a retelling of how an acoustic guitar per-
formance was once (ideally) heard.
218 Jay Hodgson

In hearing, each mix spatially situates listeners in relation to what they

hear (which is, ultimately, what the mix ‘heard’ first). The mix for The
Beatles’ ‘Can’t Buy Me Love (2015 Version)’ (1964/2015), to name an
arbitrary example, creates a listening position which is before, and fac-
ing, the band.5 The mix ‘hears’ Paul McCartney’s double-tracked vocals
furthest in front, slightly ahead of George Harrison’s and John Lennon’s
electric and acoustic guitars, McCartney’s bass track, and Ringo Starr’s
drums. In so doing, the mix for ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ hears The Beat-
les perform such that Paul McCartney’s vocals are always prioritized. The
reception paradigm, which this mix models, is that which obtains given the
separation of performer from audience in the concert-hall division of stage
(performer’s space) from seating (audience’s space).
Of course, this division is obviously idealized on the record. Every lis-
tener is situated exactly the same by the mix, regardless of where or how
they listen to it. Listeners must hear the band perform from a front-row and
center perspective, in other words. Thus, they must always hear McCart-
ney’s double-tracked vocals front and center and panned slightly to the left
and right. Ringo’s drums must always be heard farthest back. And Len-
non’s and Harrison’s guitars must always be heard somewhere in between
those two extremes. The record plays in the past tense, in other words.
What we hear, when we listen to it, is a sequence of already heard sounds,
that is, auditory rather than acoustic information.

Parameters of Audition: The Soundbox

Western notation cannot objectify the auditory response a mix construes.

Notation is, after all, a prescriptive technology developed for the express
purpose of reasoning and objectifying sonic phenomena as such, made
under the auspices of sound production. A mix is anything but a lin-
ear sequence of sounds per se. Obviously, then, Western notation can
only haphazardly conceptualize it. And, of course, it doesn’t claim to do
otherwise.
In light of this, to grasp the parameters of a mix’s auditory response—to
delineate its auditory capabilities, as it were—I consider it best to deploy
an analytic tool used by most mix engineers when they first learn the craft,
namely, a ‘soundbox’.6 This tool affords burgeoning engineers with a
means of conceptually objectifying the aural perspective each mix con-
strues, so they may begin to grasp the ‘anchor points’ and other spatial
formulae which structure most modern records. Moreover, the soundbox is
used in many beginner classrooms, including my own, and thus should be
easy enough to understand for analysts with any level of musical expertise.
There are six components of a soundbox, as I teach it. I call these com-
ponents (i) The Auditory Horizon, (ii) The Horizontal Plane, (iii) The Hor-
izontal Span, (iv) The Proximity Plane, (v) The Vertical Plane and (vi) The
Vertical Span. Each mix can be described according to these six compo-
nents. To explain them, I will use the mix for Pink Floyd’s ‘Speak to Me’
(1973/2011), which strikes me as ideally suited for this task.
Mix as Auditory Response 219

Composed by drummer Nick Mason, ‘Speak to Me’ constitutes roughly

the first minute of a key artifact of recording practice, namely, Pink Floyd’s
Dark Side of the Moon (Capitol, 1973/2011) LP.7 The album’s opening
track, ‘Speak To Me’ is divisible into three sections. Section One runs to
thirty-eight seconds. Section Two runs from thirty-eight seconds to one
minute and eleven seconds. Section Three comprises the last five seconds
of the track.
‘Speak To Me’ begins with silence (eleven seconds on digital formats;
more or less eleven seconds on vinyl LP or audio cassette). A heartbeat
then fades to audibility. After another twenty seconds, the ticking hands of
stopwatches fade in. These are followed shortly by the pendulum swings
of a grandfather clock. Band roadie Pete Watts then confesses, “I’ve been
mad for fucking years, absolutely years man, over the edge working with
bands”. In the meantime, a looped cash register opens and slams shut at
an obsessive rate across the stereo spectrum. Jerry Driscoll, the door-
man at Abbey Road Studios where Pink Floyd recorded Dark Side of the
Moon, then says, “I’ve always been mad, I know I’ve been mad, like most
are. . . . Very hard to explain why you’re mad, even if you’re not mad”, and
a loop of nervous, even deranged, laughter becomes audible. Something
like a pneumatic drill fades in, coupled with an electronic drone. These
two tracks are then pumped to an increasingly higher volume such that
they overtake all but Clare Torry’s melodic screams, and a cymbal roll,
both of which sound, for the remaining five seconds, over and above the
growing din. After one minute and sixteen seconds, ‘Speak To Me’ cross-
fades into ‘Breathe’ (1973/2011), which is the second track on Dark Side
of the Moon.
As a collection of mostly ‘found sounds’, ‘Speak To Me’ is usually
explained, at least in published accounts, as the first scene of a narrative
which all told comprises Dark Side of the Moon.8 The remaining tracks
on the record are said to recount, via a series of flashbacks, the protag-
onist’s encounters with what Roger Waters called “anti-life forces” (in
order: authority, paranoia, time, money and war), each of which is alleged,
throughout the album, to exact an universally deadening toll upon the
psyche.
In this respect, and given a familiarity with Dark Side of the Moon as
a whole, ‘Speak To Me’ constitutes a sonic analogy for the album’s pro-
tagonist in medias mental collapse, as it were. The sounds comprising the
track amble randomly about the stereo spectrum, analogizing the protag-
onist’s sudden incapacity to reason, or situate, one sound in relation to
another according to their inherent symbolic connotations. The remainder
of tracks on the album elucidate this collapse and, in so doing, polemicize
the capitalist mode of production as a hijacker of desire and, eventually, of
sanity. During ‘Money’ (1973/2011), for instance, the fifth track on Dark
Side of the Moon, the album’s protagonist emerges as something like Her-
bert Marcuse’s ‘One-Dimensional Man’ in the extreme.9 On the album’s
penultimate track, ‘The Great Gig in the Sky’ (1973/2011), the protagonist
contemplates suicide, having realized that he’s achieved nothing but great
wealth (a cause for celebration, to my mind!). By the time of ‘The Lunatic’
220 Jay Hodgson

(1973/2011), the concluding track on Dark Side of the Moon, the protago-
nist has lost his mind completely.
Regardless of how one interprets the track—I’ve always heard a child-
birth from the child’s perspective, in fact—‘Speak To Me’ remains, in the
first instance, a finely detailed mix. As such, it provides us with a valu-
able tool for elucidating the aural parameters of a mix’s auditory narrative,
using soundbox analysis. I will thus turn my attention now to elucidat-
ing the track’s sonic details, knowing that it is only through these details
that the jarring narrative interpretations I mention above can in the first
instance emerge.
As already noted, the first component of a soundbox is what I call ‘The
Auditory Horizon’.10 In ‘Speak To Me’, the Auditory Horizon is estab-
lished during the first eleven seconds of the track, when the heartbeat fades
in and reaches its maximum volume. Behind that Horizon is silence. The
Auditory Horizon thus constitutes the total reach of a mix’s ‘earshot’. If
a track fades in—as with the heartbeat in ‘Speak To Me’, for instance—it
begins its trek towards the Auditory Horizon from behind it, which is to
say, from a place ‘too far away’ to be heard. Conversely, if a track fades
out—as with, for example, the heartbeat heard during ‘The Dark Side of
the Moon’ (1973/2011), the album’s final track—it ends its trek past the
Auditory Horizon, beyond ‘earshot’.
A mix’s ‘Horizontal Plane’, the next component of a soundbox, describes
where a sound is heard in relation to center, and we call the total horizontal
expanse of a mix its ‘Horizontal Span’. What I call the ‘pneumatic drill’
and ‘electronic drone’, which sound at fifty-five seconds into ‘Speak To
Me’, are panned variously throughout their brief twenty-one second exis-
tences. They oscillate between, rather than leap from, left to right positions
along the Horizontal Plane. The track that sounds farthest to the right,
however, is the loop of ticking clocks, first heard at thirty-one seconds in.
Sixteen seconds later, a male voice confesses that he’s “always been mad”
at the farthest position left along the Horizontal Plane. Together, these two
tracks create the Horizontal Span of the mix for ‘Speak To Me’.
Perhaps the most significant component of a soundbox is its Proximity
Plane. This component describes the position of sounds in a mix vis-à-vis
its Auditory Horizon. As such, the Proximity Plane represents a mix’s abil-
ity to hear in depth, with the Auditory Horizon comprising its far limit. In
‘Speak To Me’, as what I call ‘the pneumatic drill’ pans along the Horizon-
tal Plane, it is also faded to an ever higher volume and, thereby, moved ever
‘closer’ along the Proximity Plane. In this way, the track is made to sound
as though it is ever increasing in ‘proximity’ and, thus, ever encroaching
upon the listener.
Alongside an Auditory Horizon, Horizontal Plane, Horizontal Span and
Proximity Plane, every soundbox should also feature a Vertical Plane and
Vertical Span. Just as the Horizontal Plane and Horizontal Span together
describe a mix’s total horizontal earshot, the Vertical Plane and Vertical
Span describes its capacity to hear vertically. The loop of ticking clocks
heard at a hard-right position in ‘Speak To Me’, for instance, also sounds
‘over and above’ everything else in the mix, given that it features a plethora
Mix as Auditory Response 221

of high-frequency content. As such, it sounds ‘highest’ of all the tracks

in the mix. Conversely, ‘lowest’ of all the tracks in ‘Speak To Me’ is the
maniacal laughter, with its throaty bass energy. Together, these two tracks
comprise the total Vertical Span of the mix.
The six components of a soundbox that I elucidate above, which are
the six components of a mix, together comprise an auditory response to
sounds, rather than sounds per se. That is, they present an auditory narra-
tive that explains how a sequence of sounds was once (ideally) heard, not
the sequence of sounds per se. There is simply no other way to hear the
sounds a record portrays except through the broader psychoacoustic point
of view its mix construes. Each sound is thus mixed to create that point of
view, and that point of view remains always, then, most fundamentally the
actual aesthetic content of any recorded musical communication.

Psychoacoustic Profiles

Indeed, every sound on a record has been ‘heard before’, and from a
clearly specified vantage. As noted, the Auditory Horizon, Horizontal
Plane, Horizontal Span, Proximity Plane, Vertical Plane and Vertical Span
together describe an auditory response to particular sounds, not the partic-
ular sounds as such. And we know this because what I call ‘psychoacous-
tic profiles’ are fixed on record, even as they are ceaselessly dynamic in
concert. Crafting and fine-tuning these profiles, then, must comprise the
aesthetic craft of mixing in toto.
The concept of a psychoacoustic profile defies any simple or narrow
definition. For now, though, it will suffice to conceptualize a psychoacous-
tic profile as the sum of modifications exacted on a soundwave by acoustic
and psychoacoustic interferences. Even if recordists use randomizing algo-
rithms or modular analog processes, virtual synthesis and digital sequenc-
ers, to generate truly aleatoric (random) timbres, pitches and pauses, every
‘sound’ on the resulting record would nonetheless bear a fixed and pre-
cisely repeatable psychoacoustic profile, including completely dry (con-
spicuously nonreverberant) tracks. This means that sequenced synthesis
tracks without any signal processing applied bear a psychoacoustic profile
which is just as fixed as, say, Robert Plant’s vocal track on Led Zeppelin’s
‘No Quarter’ (1973), or Philip Glass’s synthesizer track on the Nonesuch
re-release of ‘Two Pages’ (1994), or any of the vocal tracks on Noah Pred’s
Third Culture (2013) LP. The conspicuous absence of reverberation is a
reverberation profile, after all!
To be clear, psychoacoustic profiles don’t modify the sounds a mix
hears. They are an integral property, a holistic part and parcel, of those
sounds. Listeners cannot disentangle a recorded snare drum hit from its
reverberations, for instance, whether those reverberations were captured
during a live tracking session, synthesized or applied during mixdown
using signal processing. We might move to the left or right of our speak-
ers, or even walk between and through them, but the snare drum remains
fixed wherever the mix engineer positioned it. Likewise, we might don a
222 Jay Hodgson

pair of headphones and run a city block, but the snare drum nevertheless
stays forever put wherever it is mixed to be. And we certainly can’t move
around the singer, to garner a less obstructed perspective on the snare, as
we might at a concert (security allowing).
Single-point perspectival painting provides an obvious analog here.
Every shade of darkness and light, every geometric distortion, in a perspec-
tival painting ultimately combines to form a broader visual perspective for
the painting at large. It is from this perspective, from this precisely spec-
ified spatiotemporal point of view, that every painted object is conveyed
to viewers, making it a kind of narrator for the painting. People don’t just
see a vase when they look at a single-point perspectival painting of flowers
on a table, for instance. Rather, they see a vase geometrically shaped and
shaded to triangulate with the painting’s vanishing point. Whatever can
be seen in perspectival paintings has already been seen, then, and from
a clearly specified place in time and space. And this is true whether the
vista is abstract (as in Cézanne) or irrational (as in Picasso) or hyperrealist
(as in Charles Bell). It is possible, even, to consider this point of view the
painting’s primary subject.
As with perspectival painting, the broader auditory perspective a
record construes—its mix—simply cannot be moved, modified or super-
seded. Listeners can move about the listening environment and alter their
perspective on a mix vis-à-vis room acoustics, to be sure, and they can
equalize the output however they deem fit. But they don’t change the psy-
choacoustic profiles they hear in so doing, nor do they in any manner alter
the broader mix those profiles combine to construe. What they do change
is their perspective on those profiles, their perspective on the auditory per-
spective a mix already construes. Returning to our case study of ‘Speak To
Me’ above, listeners might choose to hear the record from inside a shower
two rooms away, with the bass boosted to an obscene measure, and though
they would likely hear only frequencies under about 500 Hz as a conse-
quence, not a single psychoacoustic profile would change—the heartbeat,
pneumatic drill, electronic drone, maniacal laughter, confessions of mad-
ness, melodic screams, and every other sound the mix hears would all stay
forever put wherever in the soundbox they happen to be. And this can only
be the case if ‘Speak To Me’ comprises an idealized auditory response to
sounds, not sounds per se.

Records as Models of Hearing

Ultimately, records don’t reproduce sounds. They model hearing.

I mean this literally. Records present listeners with a single acoustic
phenomenon, and mixes comprise the aesthetic content of that phenome-
non. Mixes are the ‘conjuring trick’ engineers use to generate the auditory
delusion of musical activity within a single acoustic phenomenon, in other
words. In fact, mixes—and, thus, records in general—inscribe particular
tympanic motions, simply reversed and fed through electronic circuitry,
and stored as data of whichever kind the release format demands. This
Mix as Auditory Response 223

data, if used correctly, moves speakers and headphones at the precise rates,
and in roughly inverse directions and amplitudes, that human tympana
should move to register particular auditory phenomena. Mix engineers
thus ultimately paint on the canvas of human psychophysiology. They
orchestrate psychophysiological reactions to disturbances in air pressure,
each of which conjures a unique auditory delusion.
Tweaking the reverb and equalization on an acoustic guitar track, for
instance, mix engineers can orchestrate a psychophysiological reaction in
listeners that compels them to localize the now-dulled instrument behind a
less reverberant and brighter lead-vocal track. Even then, though, listeners
don’t actually hear a guitar or a voice when they play the record. What
they hear instead is a single acoustic phenomenon, designed by mix engi-
neers to provoke a particular auditory response in listeners, specifically,
to an acoustic guitar and singer performing in tandem. This process, that
is, programming particular auditory responses via speaker and headphone
technology, comprises the substantive basis of all mixing. As such, it com-
prises the substantive basis of all recorded musical communications.

Conclusion

So what does this all mean for recording practice in general? To answer
this question, I’ll need to quickly consider the role that sample rates play
in facilitating the auditory responses I note above. Indeed, few realize that
recording practice comprises a kind of stop-motion auditory animation.
Every technical phenotype of storage medium, from wax cylinders to the
Voice Memo app on your iPhone, stores discontiguous packets of data
called samples. Film provides a useful analogy here. Video cameras—
analog and digital phenotypes—generate discrete snapshots quickly
enough that when they are displayed in sequence and at the same rate
they were encoded, the images seem to animate, taking on an illusory life
beyond empirical two-dimensionality. The animated images don’t actually
move, of course, just as soundwaves don’t actually undulate on records.
Mixes, that is, recorded musical communications, are comprised of
audio samples which portray soundwaves in various states of propaga-
tion and decay. Once we record you plucking the second-lowest string of
your acoustic guitar, for instance, we can always scrub past the first three
seconds to hear the exact same guitar timbre in precisely the same state
of decay, and according to the same precisely fixed acoustic and psycho-
acoustic variables (we can always skip the first three seconds’ worth of
samples, in other words). We might even replace a few samples we don’t
like with other samples, using the ‘sample replace’ function on whichever
DAW we use, as is so often done by mix engineers working on drums
nowadays. We don’t hear the plucking of an acoustic guitar when we play
the record, after all, and we don’t hear an A below middle-C propagate
and decay. What we hear are discrete samples played at a very precise rate
(44.1 kHz, most often), each of which depicts a different moment of prop-
agation and decay. Thus does the map cover the terrain . . .
224 Jay Hodgson

Recording practice depends on sample rates completely. Its communi-

cations paradigm ultimately boils down to this single measure, in fact. Get
the sample rate wrong and you can forget about hearing a recorded musi-
cal communication. What you’ll hear instead is a stubborn silence, or the
hum and chatter of failing machinery. Tracking and mixing are software
programming, in the end—coding samples of data meant to vibrate speak-
ers and headphones at robotically precise rates and amplitudes. These
processes transform ‘live’ performance from a communicative act in and
of itself into a subject of communications, something represented (rather
than achieved) through the communicative activity of recording practice.
Simply put, recordists portray rather than reproduce sounds, and then
music, by provoking particular auditory responses in listeners to a single
acoustic phenomenon. Mixing is just one of the many things they do to
achieve this auditory sleight-of-hand. Musicians perform, sequence, sam-
ple, and so on, for microphones and direct-injection technology when they
record, to be sure, just as models pose for cameras and lighting arrays in
the photographer’s studio. But when recordists track and mix records, they
do the sonic equivalent of a fashion photographer framing a model’s pose
and editing, say, the picture’s color and contrast. In other words, creative
agency is shared in recording practice among recordists and the artists
whose musical work they portray. And again, in neglecting this basic fact
about recording practice—i.e., that its communications paradigm ulti-
mately amounts to stop-motion auditory portraiture—we mistake the sub-
ject of recorded musical communications for communication itself. In so
doing, we relegate record production in general, of which mixing is but
one of many component procedures, to a mere act of conveyance rather
than as musical practice per se. It is my hope that this essay helps analysts
hear this directly for themselves, so they may engage record production,
and its component procedures, with intensified clarity.

Notes
  1 For more on ‘veridic’ and ‘non-veridic’ sounds in modern recording practice, see John
Andrew Fisher’s ‘Rock and Recording: The Ontological Complexity of Rock Music’ in
Musical Worlds: New Directions in the Philosophy of Music, ed. P. Alperson (Pennsylva-
nia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1998), 109–123. I complicate Fisher’s taxonomy in
my own book, Understanding Records: A Field Guide to Recording Practice (New York:
Bloomsbury, 2010), 71–72.
 2 To be clear, this is not a criticism of so-called ‘interdisciplinary’ studies of modern
recording practices. I simply agree with Louise Meintjes’s observation that “sociology
and media studies have led the way in generating discussions about studio-based creativ-
ity”, in Louise Meintjes, Sound of Africa! Making Music Zulu in a South African Studio
(Washington, DC: Duke University Press, 2003), 27.
  3 See Jay Hodgson with Steve MacLeod, Representing Sound: Notes on the Ontology of
Recorded Musical Communications (Kitchener/Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University
Press, 2013).
  4 The mix I consider here appears as track five on the 2003 remaster of Nick Drake’s Pink
Moon (Island: B000025XKM, 1972).
  5 The mix I consider here appears on The Beatles, ‘Can’t Buy Me Love (2015 Stereo Ver-
sion)’, track five on The Beatles, 1 (2015 Version) (Capitol Records: B01576X99U, 2015).
Mix as Auditory Response 225

  6 For an edifying academic discussion of the ‘soundbox’, see Ruth Dockwray and Allan
Moore, ‘Configuring the Soundbox 1965–1972’ (2010) in Popular Music 29 (2): 181–
197. To see how it is typically used in audio engineering pedagogy, see David Gibson, The
Art of Mixing: A Visual Guide to Recording, Engineering and Production, Second Edition
(Boston, MA: Course Technology PTR, 2005).
  7 Specifically, the 2011 remastered version of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon (Capitol:
B004ZN9RWK, 1973/2011).
  8 See Nicholas Schaffner, Saucerful of Secrets: The Pink Floyd Odyssey (Philadelphia, PA:
Delta Books, 1992).
  9 See Herbert Marcuse, One Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Indus-
trial Society, Second Edition (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1991).
10 For more on the practical mixing tools and techniques recordists use to create these com-
ponents of a ‘soundbox’ see, for instance, Roey Izhaki, Mixing Audio: Concepts, Prac-
tices and Tools, Second Edition (Boston, MA: Focal Press, 2011); Mike Senior, Mixing
Secrets in the Small Studio (Boston, MA: Focal Press, 2011); David Gibson, The Art
of Mixing: A Visual Guide to Recording, Engineering and Production, Second Edition
(Boston, MA: Course Technology PTR, 2005); Alexander Case, Sound FX: Unlocking
the Creative Potential of Recording Studio Effects (Boston, MA: Focal Press, 2007); Wil-
liam Moylan, Understanding and Crafting the Mix: The Art of Recording, Second Edition
(Boston, MA: Focal Press, 2007); Bobby Owsinski, The Mixing Engineer’s Handbook,
Second Edition (New York: Cengage, 2006).

Bibliography
Case, Alexander (2007). Sound FX: Unlocking the Creative Potential of Recording Studio
Effects. Boston, MA: Focal Press.
Dockwray, Ruth and Moore, Allan (2010). Configuring the Soundbox 1965–1972. Popular
Music 29 (2): 181–197.
Fisher, John Andrew (1998). ‘Rock and Recording: The Ontological Complexity of Rock
Music.’ In Musical Worlds: New Directions in the Philosophy of Music, ed. P. Alperson.
Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, pp. 109–123.
Gibson, David (2005). The Art of Mixing: A Visual Guide to Recording, Engineering and
Production, Second edition. Boston, MA: Course Technology PTR.
Hodgson, Jay (2010). Understanding Records: A Field Guide to Recording Practice. New
York: Bloomsbury.
Hodgson, Jay with MacLeod, Steve (2013). Representing Sound: Notes on the Ontology of
Recorded Musical Communications. Kitchener/Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press.
Izhaki, Roey (2011). Mixing Audio: Concepts, Practices and Tools, Second edition. Boston,
MA: Focal Press.
Marcuse, Herbert (1991). One Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Indus-
trial Society, Second edition. Boston, MA: Beacon Press.
Meintjes, Louise (2003). Sound of Africa! Making Music Zulu in a South African Studio.
Washington, DC: Duke University Press.
Moylan, William (2007). Understanding and Crafting the Mix: The Art of Recording, Second
edition. Boston, MA: Focal Press.
Owsinski, Bobby (2006). The Mixing Engineer’s Handbook, Second edition. New York: Cengage.
Schaffner, Nicholas (1992). Saucerful of Secrets: The Pink Floyd Odyssey. Philadelphia, PA:
Delta Books.
Senior, Mike. Mixing Secrets in the Small Studio. Boston, MA: Focal Press, 2011.

Discography
The Beatles, 1 (2015 Version) (Capitol Records: B01576X99U, 2015).
Nick Drake, Pink Moon (Island: B000025XKM, 1972).
Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon (Capitol: B004ZN9RWK, 1973/2011).
15

An Intelligent Systems Approach to

Mixing Multitrack Audio
Joshua D. Reiss

Introduction

Although audio production tasks are challenging and technical, much of

the initial work follows established rules and best practices. Yet multitrack
audio content is still often manipulated ‘by hand’, using no computerized
signal analysis. This is a time-consuming process, and prone to errors.
Only if time and resources permit does the sound engineer refine his or her
choices to produce an aesthetically pleasing mix which best captures the
intended sound.
In order to address this challenge, a new form of multitrack audio
signal processing has emerged. Intelligent tools have been devised that
analyze the relationships between all channels in order to automate the
mixing of multitrack audio content. By ‘intelligent’, we mean that these
tools are expert systems that perceive, reason, learn and act intelligently.
This implies that they must analyze the signals upon which they act,
dynamically adapt to audio inputs and sound scene, automatically config-
ure parameter settings, and exploit best practices in sound engineering to
modify the signals appropriately. They derive the parameters in the editing
of recordings or live audio based on analysis of the audio content and on
objective and perceptual criteria. In parallel, intelligent audio production
interfaces have arisen that guide the user, learn his or her preferences and
present intuitive, perceptually relevant controls.
An assumption that is often, but not always, made about mixing is
that it is an iterative process (Pestana, 2013). There is no fixed order in
the sequence of steps applied, and an iterative, coarse-to-fine approach
is applied (Figure 15.1) whereby mixing is treated as an optimization
problem, with targets and criteria set for the final mix. Such a view lends
itself well to an intelligent systems approach, whereby the steps can be
sequenced and diverse optimization or adaptive techniques can be applied
in order to achieve given objectives.
For progress towards intelligent systems in this domain, significant
problems must be overcome that have not yet been tackled by the research
community. First, multitrack audio editing tools demand manual interven-
tion. Although audio editors are capable of saving a set of static scenes

226
An Intelligent Systems Approach 227

New objecve No new objectives

What has not been addressed? Ideal mix
What to do next?
Next
objective
Yes

No

Evaluaon Processing
How does it sound? What effects and
Objective achieved? what settings to use?

Figure 15.1  The iterative approach to mixing multitrack audio

for later use, they lack the ability to take intelligent decisions, such as
adapting to different acoustic environments or different set of inputs. Sec-
ond, most state-of-the-art audio signal processing techniques focus on
single-channel signals. Yet multichannel or multitrack signals are perva-
sive, and the interaction and dependency between channels plays a criti-
cal role in audio production quality. This issue has been addressed in the
context of audio source separation research, but the challenge in source
separation is generally dependent on how the sources were mixed, not on
the respective content of each source. New, multi-input multi-output audio
signal processing methods are required, which can analyze the content
of all sources in order to improve the quality of capturing, editing and
combining multitrack audio. Finally, advances in machine learning must
be tailored towards problems and practical applications in the domain of
audio production. This chapter presents an overview of recent advances in
this area.

Enabling concepts

The idea of automating the audio production process, although relatively

unexplored, is not new. In Automation for the People (White, 2008), the
editor of Sound on Sound magazine wrote, “There’s no reason why a band
recording using reasonably conventional instrumentation shouldn’t be
EQ’d and balanced automatically by advanced DAW software”. He also
wrote that mixing tools can “come with a ‘gain learn’ mode . . . DAWs
could optimise their own mixer and plug-in gain structure while preserv-
ing the same mix balance”. This would address the needs of the musi-
cian who doesn’t have the time, expertise or inclination to perform all
the audio engineering required. Similarly, Moorer (2000) introduced the
concept of an Intelligent Assistant, incorporating psychoacoustic models
of loudness and audibility, intended to “take over the mundane aspects of
music production, leaving the creative side to the professionals, where
it belongs”.
228 Joshua D. Reiss

Automatic mixing research has received a lot of attention in recent

years. The state of the art was described in Reiss (2011), but since then the
field has grown rapidly. This section describes the key concepts in auto-
matic mixing.

Intelligent and Adaptive Digital Audio Effects

Rather than have sound engineers manually apply many audio effects to
all audio inputs and determine their appropriate parameter settings, intel-
ligent, adaptive digital audio effects may be applied instead (Verfaille
et al., 2006). The parameter settings of adaptive effects are determined
by analysis of the audio content, where the analysis is achieved by a fea-
ture extraction component built into the effect. Intelligent audio effects
also analyze or ‘listen’ to the audio signal, but are furthermore imbued
with knowledge of their intended use and control their own operation in
a manner similar to manual operation by a trained engineer. The knowl-
edge of their use may be derived from established best practices in sound
engineering, psychoacoustic studies that provide understanding of human
preference for audio editing techniques or machine learning from training
data based on previous use. Thus, an intelligent audio effect may be used
to set the appropriate equalization, automate the parameters on dynamics
processors and adjust stereo recordings to more effectively distinguish the
sources.
A block diagram of an intelligent audio effect is given in Figure 15.2.
Any additional processing is performed in a separate section so that the
audio signal flow is unaffected. This side chain is essential for low latency,
real-time signal flow. The side chain is comprised of a feature extraction
section and an analysis section.

Audio Input

Feature
Extraction
Constraints
(psychoacoustics,
Features
best practices,
machinelearning) Rules Signal
Feature
Processing Processing
Controls
Side-chain processing
Audio Output

Figure 15.2  Block diagram of an intelligent audio effect. Features are extracted by
analysis of the audio signal. These features are then processed based on a set of rules
intended to mimic the behavior of a trained engineer. A set of controls are produced
which are used to modify the audio signal
An Intelligent Systems Approach 229

The feature extraction is in charge of extracting a series of features from

the input channel. Accumulative averaging, described in a later section,
is used to ensure real-time signal processing operations, even when the
feature extraction process is non-real time. The analysis section outputs
control signals to the signal processing side in order to trigger the desired
parameter control change command.
Reiss (2011) described several intelligent, adaptive effects for use
with single-channel audio, which automate many parameters and enable
a higher level of audio editing and manipulation. This included adap-
tive effects that control the panning of a sound source between two user-
defined points, depending on the sound level or frequency content of the
source, and noise gates with parameters which are automatically derived
from the signal content.

Cross-Adaptive Digital Audio Effects

When editing multitrack audio, one performs signal processing changes
on a given signal source not only because of the source content but also
because there is a simultaneous need to blend it with the content of other
sources, so that a high-quality mix is achieved. The relationship between
all the sources involved in the audio mix must be taken into account.
Thus, a cross-adaptive effect processing architecture is ideal for auto-
matic mixing.
In a cross-adaptive effect, also known as inter-channel dependent or
MIMO (multi-input/multi-output) effect, the signal processing of an
individual source is the result of the relationships between all involved
sources. That is, these effects analyze the signal content of several input
channels in order to produce several output channels. This generalizes the
single-channel adaptive signal processing mentioned above.
In an intelligent multitrack audio editing system, as shown in Fig-
ure 15.3, the side chain will consist of a feature extraction section for each
channel and a single analysis section that processes the features extracted
from many channels. The cross-adaptive processing section of an intelli-
gent multitrack audio editing system exploits the interdependence of the
input features in order to output the appropriate control data. This data
controls the parameters in the signal processing of the multitrack content.
The cross-adaptive feature processing can be implemented by a set of con-
strained rules that consider the interdependence between channels.
In principle, cross-adaptive digital audio effects have been in use since
the development of the microphone mixer. However, such systems are only
concerned with automatic gain handling and require a significant amount
of human interaction during setup to ensure a stable operation.

Intelligent, Multitrack Digital Audio Effects

In Reiss (2011), and references therein, several cross-adaptive digital
audio effects were described that explored the possibility of reproducing
230 Joshua D. Reiss

Constraints

Feature … Feature
Feature
Extraction Extraction
Extraction

Cross-Adaptive
Feature Processing

Signal Signal … Signal

Processing Processing Processing
Audio
Rules
Features
Controls

Figure 15.3  Block diagram of an intelligent, cross-adaptive mixing system. Extracted

features from all channels are sent to the same feature-processing block, where con-
trols are produced. The output channels are summed to produce a mix that depends
on the relationships between all input channels

the mixing decisions of a skilled audio engineer with minimal or no human

interaction. Each of these effects produces a set of mixes where each out-
put may be given by the following equation;
M −1 K −1
mixl [n] = ∑ ∑ ck , m ,l [n] ∗ xm [n] ,  (1)
m=0 k =0

where there are M input tracks and L channels in the output mix. K is the
length of the control vector c and x is the multitrack input. Thus, the resul-
tant mixed signal at time n is a sum over all input channels, of a control
vectors convolved with the input signal.
Any cross-adaptive digital audio effect that employs linear filters may
be described in this manner. For automatic faders and source enhance-
ment, the control vectors are simple scalars, and hence the convolution
operation becomes multiplication. For polarity correction, a binary valued
scalar, ±1, is used. For automatic panners, two mixes are created, where
panning is also determined with a scalar multiplication (typically, the
sine-cosine panning law). For delay correction, the control vectors become
a single delay operation. This applies even when different delay estimation
methods are used, or when there are multiple active sources. If multitrack
An Intelligent Systems Approach 231

convolutional reverb is applied, then c represents direct application of

a finite room impulse response. And automatic equalization employs
impulse responses for the control vectors based on transfer functions rep-
resenting each equalization curve applied to each channel. And though
dynamic range compression is a nonlinear effect due to its level depen-
dence, the application of feedforward compression is still as a simple gain
function. So multitrack dynamic range compression would be based on a
time-varying gain for each control vector.

Real-Time, Multitrack Intelligent Audio Signal Processing

The standard approach adopted by the research community for real-
time audio signal processing is to perform a direct translation of a
computationally efficient off-line routine into one that operates on a
window-by-window basis. However, effective use in live sound or inter-
active audio requires not only that the methods be real-time, but also
that there is no perceptible latency. The minimal latency requirement is
necessary because there should be no perceptible delay between when a
sound is produced and when the modified sound is heard by the listener.
Thus, many common real-time technologies, such as look-ahead and the
use of long windows, are not possible. The windowed approach produces
an inherent delay (the length of a window) that renders such techniques
impractical for many applications. Nor can one assume time invariance;
sources move and content changes during performance. To surmount
these barriers, perceptually relevant features must be found which can
be quickly extracted in the time domain, analysis must rapidly adapt
to varying conditions and constraints, and effects must be produced in
advance of a change in signal content.
In this section, we look at some of the main enabling technologies that
are used.

Reference Signals and Adaptive Thresholds

An important consideration to be taken into account during analysis of an
audio signal is the presence of noise. The existence of interference, cross
talk and ambient noise will influence the ability to derive information
about the source. For many tasks, the signal analysis should only be based
on signal content when the source is active, and the presence of significant
noise can make this difficult to identify.
One of the most common methods used for ensuring that an intelligent
tool can operate with widely varying input data is adaptive gating, where a
gating threshold adapts according to the existing noise. A reference micro-
phone placed far from the source signal may be used to capture an estima-
tion of ambient noise. This microphone signal can then be used to derive
the adaptive threshold. Although automatic gating is typically applied to
gate an audio signal, it can also be used to gate whether the extracted fea-
tures will be processed.
232 Joshua D. Reiss

The most straightforward way to implement this is to apply a gate that

ensures that the control vector is only updated when the signal level of the
mth channel is larger than the level of the reference, as given in the follow-
ing equation;

 cm [n] xm2 , RMS [n] ≤ rRMS

2
[ n]
cm [n + 1] =  ’ (2)
α cm [n + 1] + (1 − α )cm [n] otherwise

Where c' represents an instantaneous estimation of the control vector.

Thus, the current control vector is a weighted sum of the previous control
vector and some function of the extracted features. Initially, computation
of RMS level of a signal x is given by
M −1
1
2
xrms [ n] =
M
∑ x [ n − m]
0
2
(3)

And later values may either be given by a sliding window, which reduces to

2
xRMS (n + 1) = x 2 (n + 1) / M + xRMS
2
( n) − x 2 ( n + 1 − M ) / M , (4)

or a low-pass one pole filter (also known as an exponential moving average

filter),

2
xRMS (n + 1) = β x 2 (n + 1) + (1 − β ) xRMS
2
(n) . (5)

α and β and represent time constants of IIR filters and allow for the control
vector and RMS estimation, respectively, to smoothly change with varying
conditions. Eq. (4) represents a form of dynamic real-time extraction of a
feature (in this case, RMS), and Eq. (5) represents an accumulative form.

Incorporating Best Practices Into Constrained Control Rules

In order to develop intelligent software tools, it is essential to formalize
and analyze audio production methods and techniques. This will establish
required functionality of such tools. Furthermore, analysis of the mixing
and mastering process will identify techniques that facilitate the mixing of
multitracks, and repetitive tasks which can be automated. By establishing
methodologies of audio production used by professional sound engineers,
features and constraints can be specified that will enable automation.
Many of the best practices in sound engineering are well known and
have been described in the literature (Pestana et al., 2014b). In live sound,
for instance, the maximum acoustic gain of the lead vocalist, if present,
tends to be the reference to which the rest of the channels are mixed, and
this maximum acoustic gain is constrained by the level at which acoustic
An Intelligent Systems Approach 233

feedback occurs. Furthermore, resonances and background hum should be

removed from individual sources before mixing, all active sources should
be heard, delays should be set so as to prevent comb filtering, dynamic
range compression should reduce drastic changes in loudness of one
source as compared to the rest of the mix, panning should be balanced,
spectral and psychoacoustic masking of sources must be minimized, and
so on.
Similarly, many aspects of sound spatialization obey standard rules.
For instance, a stereo mix should be balanced and hard panning avoided.
When spatial audio is rendered with height, low-frequency sound sources
are typically placed near the ground, and high-frequency sources are
placed above, in accordance with human auditory preference. Sources
with similar frequency content should be placed far apart, in order to
prevent spatial masking and improve the intelligibility of content. Inter-
estingly, Wakefield et al. (2015) showed that this avoidance of spatial
masking may be a far more effective way to address general masking
issues in a mix than alternative approaches using equalizers, compres-
sors and level balancing.
These best practices and common approaches translate directly into
constraints that are built into intelligent software tools. For example, De
Man et al. (2013a, 2013b) described autonomous systems that were built
entirely on best practices found in the literature. Also, many parameters on
digital audio effects can be set based on an understanding of best practices
and analysis of signal content, e.g., attack and release on dynamics proces-
sors are kept short for percussive sounds.

Psychoacoustic Studies
Important questions arise concerning the psychoacoustics of mixing mul-
titrack content. For instance, little has been formally established concern-
ing user preference for relative amounts of dynamic range compression
used on each track. Admittedly, such choices are often artistic decisions,
but there are many technical tasks in the production process for which
listening tests have not yet been performed to even establish whether a
listener preference exists.
Listening tests must be performed to ascertain the extent to which lis-
teners can detect undesired artifacts that commonly occur in the audio
production process. Important work in this area has addressed issues such
as level balance preference (King et al., 2010, 2012), reverberation level
preference (Leonard et al., 2012, 2013), ‘punch’ (Fenton et al., 2015), per-
ceived loudness and dynamic range compression (Wilson et al., 2016), as
well as the design and interpretation of such listening tests.
Before they are ready for practical use, intelligent software tools need to
be evaluated by both amateurs and professional sound engineers to assess
their effectiveness and compare different approaches. In contrast to sep-
aration of sources in multitrack content, there has been little published
work on subjective evaluation of the intelligent tools for mixing multitrack
audio. Where possible, prototypes should also be tested with engineers
234 Joshua D. Reiss

from the live sound and post-production communities in order to assess

the user experience and compare performance and parameter settings with
manual operation. This research would both identify preferred sound engi-
neering approaches and allow automatic mixing criteria derived from best
practices to be replaced with more rigorous criteria based on psychoacous-
tic studies.

Recent developments

Table 15.1 provides an overview of intelligent mixing systems since the

early ones described in Reiss (2011). These technologies are classified in
terms of their overall goal, whether they are multitrack or single track,
whether or not they are intended for real-time use and how their rules are
found.
Many of the tools deal with masking in some form. Lopez et al. (2010),
Aichinger et al. (2011) and Ma et al. (2014) all propose measures of mask-
ing in multitrack mixes, but do not contain intelligent approaches to mask-
ing reduction.

Faders
The most common form of multitrack automatic mixing system is based
around simple level adjustments on each track. In almost all cases, it
begins with the assumption that each track is meant to be heard at roughly
equal loudness levels.
Mansbridge et al. (2012b) provided a real-time system, using ITU 1770
as the loudness model. The off-line system described in Ward et al. (2012)
attempted to control faders with auditory models of loudness and partial
loudness. In theory, this approach should be more aligned with perception
and take into account masking, at the expense of computational efficiency.
But Wichern et al. (2015) showed that the use of an auditory model offered
little improvement over simple single-band, energy-based approaches. Inter-
estingly, the evaluation in Mansbridge et al. (2012b) showed that autono-
mous faders could compete with manual approaches by professionals, and
test subjects gave the autonomous system highly consistent ratings, regard-
less of the song (and its genre and instrumentation) used for testing. This
suggests that the equal loudness rule is broadly applicable, whereas pref-
erence for decisions in manual mixes differs widely dependent on content.

Equalization
The rules and best practices for equalization typically fall into two catego-
ries: artifact correction, such as hum removal (Brandt et al., 2014) and the
equalization of salient frequencies (Bitzer et al., 2008), or creative equal-
ization (which may still follow rules and best practices), where equalizers
are applied in order to achieve a certain overall spectrum (Pestana et al.,
2013; Deruty et al., 2014).
Table 15.1  Classification of intelligent audio production tools since those described in Reiss (2011)

Single or Audio effect Reference Real-time? Rules

multitrack

Single track Equalization Ma et al., 2013 Yes Mix analysis

Sabin et al., 2008, 2009a, 2009b; Pardo et al., 2012a, 2012b; No Machine learning
Cartwright et al., 2013
Compression Giannoulis et al., 2013; Mason et al., 2015 Yes Psychoacoustics; best practices
Reverberation Rafii et al., 2009; Chourdakis et al., 2016a No Machine learning
Distortion De Man et al., 2014b Best practices
Multitrack Faders and gains Mansbridge et al., 2012b Yes Best practices
Scott et al., 2011; Ward et al., 2012; Wichern et al., 2015 No Best practices
Equalization Hafezi et al., 2015 Yes Best practices
Compression Maddams et al., 2012; Ma et al., 2015 Yes Psychoacoustics; best practices
Stereo panning Mansbridge et al., 2012a; Pestana et al., 2014a Yes Best practices
Delay and Clifford et al., 2010, 2011a, 2013; Jillings et al., 2013 Yes Acoustics
polarity
Interference Clifford et al., 2011b; Kokkinis et al., 2011 No Acoustics
reduction
Exploration Cartwright et al., 2014 Yes Machine learning
Knowledge De Man et al., 2013a, 2013b No Best practices
engineered
mix
236 Joshua D. Reiss

Ma et al. (2013) described an intelligent equalization tool that, in real

time, equalized an incoming audio stream towards a target frequency
spectrum. The target spectrum was derived from analysis of fifty years
of commercially successful recordings (Pestana et al., 2013). Since the
input signal to be equalized is continually changing, the desired magnitude
response of the target filter is also changing (though the target output spec-
trum remains the same). Thus, smoothing was applied from frame to frame
on the desired magnitude response and on the applied filter. Targeting was
achieved using the Yule-Walker method, which can be used to design an
IIR filter with a desired magnitude response.
Hafezi et al. (2015) created a multitrack intelligent equalizer that used a
measure of masking and rules based on best practices from the literature to
apply, in real time, different multiband equalization curves to each track.
Results of objective and subjective evaluation were mixed and showed lots
of room for improvement, but they indicated that masking was reduced
and the resultant mixes were preferred over amateur, manual mixes.

Stereo Positioning
The premise of Mansbridge et al. (2012a) is that one of the primary goals
of stereo panning is to ‘fill out’ the stereo field and reduce masking. It set
target criteria of source balancing (equal numbering and symmetric posi-
tioning of sources on either side of the stereo field), spatial balancing (uni-
form distribution of levels) and spectral balancing (uniform distribution
of content within each frequency band). It further assumes that the higher
the frequency content of a source, the more it will be panned, and that no
hard panning will be applied. Finally, it used a multitude of techniques to
position the sources; amplitude panning, timing differences and double
tracking.
Pestana et al. (2014a) took a different approach, where different fre-
quency bands of each multitrack are assigned different spatial positions in
the mix. This approach is unique among the intelligent multitrack mixing
tools since it does not emulate, even approximately, what might be per-
formed by a practitioner. That is, practitioners aim for a single position
(albeit sometimes diffuse) of each source. However, it captures the spirit
of many practical approaches since it greatly reduces masking and makes
effective use of the entire stereo field. In fact, Matz et al. (2015) showed
that dynamic spectral panning had a larger effect in the overall improve-
ment provided by automatic mixing than any of the other tools they con-
sidered (intelligent distortion, autonomous faders and multitrack EQ).

Dynamic Range Compression

Automating dynamic range compression is much more challenging than
other effects for several reasons. It is a nonlinear effect with feedback,
there are complicated relationships between its parameters and its use is
less understood than other effects. Nevertheless, Giannoulis et al. (2013)
automated most of the parameters of a compressor such that a single
An Intelligent Systems Approach 237

parameter determines the overall amount of compression and all other

parameters are optimized to the signal. This was taken one step further
by Mason et al. (2015), where the amount of dynamic range compression
applied is determined based on a measurement of the background noise
level in the environment.
A first attempt at multitrack dynamic range compression was provided
by Maddams et al. (2012). Results of evaluation were mixed, and it was
difficult to identify a preference between an automatic mix, a manual mix
and no compression applied at all. Furthermore, it wasn’t possible to tell
whether this was due to a genuine lack of preference or due to limitations
in the experimental design (e.g., poor stimuli, untrained test subjects).
A more rigorous approach was taken in Ma et al. (2015). The challenge
was to formalize and quantify the relevant best practices described in Pes-
tana et al. (2014b). First, a method of adjustment test was performed to
establish preferred parameter settings for a wide variety of content. Then
least squares regression was used to identify the best combination of can-
didate features that map to parameter settings. Thus, a rule such as ‘more
compression is applied to percussive tracks’ translates to ‘the ratio setting
of the compressor is a particular function of a certain measure of per-
cussivity in the input audio track’. Perceptual evaluation then showed a
clear preference for automatic dynamic range compression over amateur
application and over no compression, and sometimes performed close to
professionals.
Studies have also investigated the dynamic range (or loudness range) of
commercial content (Deruty et al., 2014; Kirchberger et al., 2016). Though
the relationship between this range and the settings of dynamic range com-
pressors is a complicated one, this direction of research may lead the way
towards automatic dynamic range compression based on matching the
dynamics of popular recordings, similar to the approach taken in Ma et al.
(2013) for equalization.

Delay, Polarity and Interference

Delay and interference reduction are actually well-established signal pro-
cessing techniques, more generally known as time alignment and source
separation, but in Clifford et al. (2010, 2011a, 2011b, 2013) and Jillings
et al. (2013) they are used and customized for mixing applications. That is,
they deal with optimizing parameter settings for real-world scenarios, such
as microphone placement around a drum kit, moving sources on stage and
interference reduction under the constraint that no additional artifacts may
be introduced.

Reverb
Of all the standard audio effects found on a mixing console or as built-in
algorithms in a digital audio workstation, there has perhaps been the least
effort on intelligent systems design for reverberation. Chourdakis et al.
(2016a, 2016b) proposed an adaptive digital audio effect for artificial
238 Joshua D. Reiss

reverberation that allows it to learn from the user in a supervised way.

They first perform feature selection and dimensionality reduction on fea-
tures extracted from a training data set. Then, a user provides examples of
reverberation parameters for the training data. Finally, a set of classifiers
is trained, and they are compared using 10-fold cross validation to com-
pare classification success ratios and mean squared errors. Tracks from the
Open Multitrack Testbed (De Man et al., 2014a) were used in order to train
and test the models.

Adaptive and Intuitive Mixing Interfaces

In this section, we provide an overview of the state of the art concerning

interfaces for intelligent or adaptive mixing, with an emphasis on per-
ceptual adaptive and intuitive controls. Various approaches for learning a
listener’s preferences for an equalization curve with a small number of fre-
quency bands have been applied to research in the setting of hearing aids
(Neuman et al., 1987; Durant et al., 2004) and cochlear implants (Wake-
field et al., 2005), and the modified simplex procedure (Kuk et al., 1992;
Stelmachowicz et al., 1994) is now an established approach for selecting
hearing aid frequency responses. However, many recent innovations have
emerged in the field of music production.
Dewey et al. (2013) and Mycroft et al. (2013) looked at the effect of
the complexity of the interface for an equalizer, and suggested that simpli-
fied interfaces may encourage the user to focus on the aural properties of
the signal, rather than the interpretation of visual information. Loviscach
(2008) presented an interface for a five-band parametric equalizer, where
the user simply freehand draws the desired transfer function and an evo-
lutionary optimization strategy (chosen for real-time interaction) finds the
closest match. Informal testing suggested that this interface reduced the
set-up time for a parametric equalizer compared to more traditional inter-
faces. Building on this, Heise et al. (2010) proposed a procedure to achieve
equalization and other effects using a black-box genetic optimization strat-
egy. Users are confronted with a series of comparisons of two differently
processed sound examples. Parameter settings are optimized by learning
from the users’ choices. Though these interfaces are novel and easy to use
by the nonexpert, they make no use of semantics or descriptors.
Considerable research has aimed at the development of technologies
that let musicians or sound engineers perform equalization using percep-
tually relevant or intuitive terms, e.g., brightness, warmth, presence. Reed
(2000) presented an assistive sound equalization expert system. Inductive
learning based on nearest neighbor pattern recognition was used to acquire
expert skills. These are then applied to adjust the timbral qualities of sound
in a context-dependent fashion. They emphasized that the system must
be context dependent; that is, the equalization depends on the input sig-
nal system and hence operates as an adaptive audio effect. In Mecklen-
burg et al. (2006), a self-organizing map was trained to represent common
equalizer settings in a two-dimensional space organized by similarity. The
An Intelligent Systems Approach 239

space was hand-labeled with descriptors that the researchers considered

intuitive. However, informal subjective evaluation suggested that users
would like to choose their own descriptors.
The work of Bryan Pardo and his collaborators has focused on new,
intelligent and adaptive interfaces for equalization tasks. They address the
challenge that complex interfaces for equalizers can prevent novices from
achieving their desired modifications. Sabin et al. (2008, 2009b, 2011)
described and evaluated an algorithm to rapidly learn a listener’s desired
equalization curve. Listeners were asked to indicate how well an equalized
sound could be described by a perceptual term. After rating, weightings for
each frequency band were found by correlating the gain at each frequency
band with listener responses, thus providing a mapping from the descrip-
tors to audio processing parameters. Listeners reported that the resultant
sounds captured their intended meanings of descriptors, and machine rat-
ings generated by computing the similarity of a given curve to the weighting
function were highly correlated to listener responses. This allows automated
construction of a simple and intuitive audio equalizer interface. In Pardo
et al. (2012a), active and transfer learning techniques were applied to exploit
knowledge from prior concepts taught to the system from prior users, greatly
enhancing the performance of the equalization learning algorithm.
The early work on intelligent equalization based on intuitive descriptors
was hampered by a limited set of descriptors with a limited set of train-
ing data to map those descriptors to equalizer settings. Cartwright et al.
(2013) addressed this with SocialEQ, a web-based crowd-sourcing appli-
cation aimed at learning the vocabulary of audio equalization descriptors.
To date, 633 participants have participated in a total of 1,102 training ses-
sions (one session per learned word), of which 731 sessions were deemed
reliable in the sense that users were self-consistent in their answers (Pardo,
2015). This resulted in 324 distinct terms, and data on these terms is made
available for download.
Building on the mappings from descriptors to equalization curves, Sabin
et al. (2009a) described a simple equalizer where the entire set of curves
were represented in a two-dimensional space (similar to Mecklenburg et
al., 2006), thus assigning spatial locations to each descriptor. Equaliza-
tion is performed by the user dragging a single dot around the interface,
which simultaneously manipulates forty bands of a graphic equalizer.
This approach was extended to multitrack equalization in Cartwright et al.
(2014), which provided an interface that, by varying simple graphic equal-
izers applied to each track in a multitrack, allowed the user to intuitively
explore a diverse set of mixes.
The concepts of perceptual control, learned from crowdsourcing, intui-
tive interface design and mapping of a high-dimensional parameter space
to a lower dimensional representation were all employed in Stasis et al.
(2015). This approach scaled equalizer parameters to spectral features of
the input signal, then mapped the equalizer’s thirteen controls to a 2D space.
The system was trained with a large set of parameter space data represent-
ing warmth and brightness, measured across a range of musical instrument
samples, allowing users to perform equalization using a perceptually and
240 Joshua D. Reiss

semantically relevant, simple interface. A similar approach, also incorpo-

rating gestural control, was applied to dynamic range compression in Wil-
son et al. (2015).

Current and Future Research Directions

Open Multitrack Testbed

The availability multitrack audio is of vital importance to research in
this field, but existence of such tracks alone is not sufficient. The content
should be highly diverse in terms of genre, instrumentation and quality,
so that sufficient data is available for most applications. Where training
on large datasets is needed, such as with machine learning applications, a
large number of audio samples is especially critical.
Data that can be shared without limits, because of a Creative Commons
or similar license, facilitates collaboration, reproducibility and demonstra-
tion of research and even allows it to be used in commercial settings, mak-
ing the testbed appealing to a larger audience.
Moreover, reliable metadata can serve as a ground truth that is neces-
sary for applications such as instrument identification, where the algorithm’s
output needs to be compared to the ‘actual’ instrument. Providing this data
makes the testbed an attractive resource for training or testing such algo-
rithms, as it obviates the need for manual annotation of the audio, which can
be particularly tedious if the number of files becomes large. Similarly, for
the testbed to be highly usable, it is mandatory that the desired type of data
can be easily retrieved by filtering or searches pertaining to this metadata.
Existing online resources of multitrack audio content have a relatively
low number of songs, show little variation in content, contain content of
which the use is restricted due to copyright, provide little to no metadata,
rarely have mixed versions including the parameter settings, and/or do not
come with facilities to search the content for specific criteria. However,
two initiatives (Bittner et al., 2014; De Man et al. 2014a) have tried to
address this problem. MedleyDB is an annotated, royalty-free dataset of
multitrack recordings, initially developed to support research on melody
extraction, but generally applicable to a wide range of multitrack research
problems. The Open Multitrack Testbed (which also links to the MedleyDB
content) was designed for broad and diverse use by researchers, educators
and enthusiasts. Such initiatives are a strong indicator that research in this
field will continue to grow.

Mix Evaluation
One of the chief distinguishing characteristics between the early work
on intelligent mixing systems and those described herein is that very
few of the early systems had any form of subjective evaluation, whereas
now this is standard practice. A popular form of evaluation for such sys-
tems has become multistimulus rating, similar to that used in MUSHRA.
An Intelligent Systems Approach 241

Mansbridge et al. (2012b) compared their proposed autonomous faders

technique with a manual mix, an earlier implementation, a simple sum of
sources and a semi-autonomous version. Mansbridge et al. (2012a) com-
pared an autonomous panning technique with a monaural mix and panning
configurations set manually by three different engineers. Both showed that
fully autonomous mixing systems can compete with manual mixes.
Similar listening tests for the multitrack dynamic range compression
system described in Maddams et al. (2012) were inconclusive, however,
since the range of responses was too large for statistically significant dif-
ferences between means and since no dynamic range compression was
often preferred, even over the settings made by a professional sound engi-
neer. However, a more rigorous listening test was performed in Ma et al.
(2015), where it was shown that compression applied by an amateur was
on a par with no compression at all, and an advanced implementation of
intelligent multitrack dynamic range compression was on a par with the
settings chosen by a professional.
In Wichern et al. (2015), the authors first examined human mixes from a
multitrack dataset to determine instrument-dependent target loudness tem-
plates. Three automatic level balancing approaches were then compared to
human mixes. Results of a listening test showed that subjects preferred the
automatic mixes created from the simple energy-based model, indicating
that the complex psychoacoustic model may not be necessary in an auto-
mated level setting application.
One of the most exciting and interesting developments has been per-
ceptual evaluation of complete automatic mixing systems. In Matz et al.
(2015), various implementations of an automatic mixing system are com-
pared, where different combinations of autonomous multitrack audio
effects were applied, so that one could see the relative importance of each
individual tool. Although no comparison was made with manual mixes, it
is clear that the application of these tools provides an improvement over
the original recording, and that the combination of all tools results in a
dramatic improvement.

Conclusions

In this chapter, we described how mixing of multitrack audio could be

made simpler and more efficient through the use of intelligent software
tools. Ideally, intelligent systems for mixing multitrack audio should be
able to pass a Turing test. That is, they should be able to produce music
indistinguishable from that which could be handcrafted by a professional
human engineer. This would require the systems to be able to make artistic
as well as technical decisions, and achieve this with almost arbitrary audio
content. However, considerable progress is still needed in order for systems
to even be able to ‘understand’ the musician’s intent. But, in the near term,
such software tools may result in two types of systems. The first would be
a set of tools for the sound engineer that automate repetitive tasks. This
would allow professional audio engineers to focus on the creative aspects
242 Joshua D. Reiss

of their craft, and help inexperienced users create high-quality mixes. The
other type of system would be a ‘black box’ for the musician that allows
decent live sound without an engineer. This would be most beneficial for
the small band or small venue that doesn’t have or can’t afford a sound
engineer, or for recording practice sessions where a sound engineer is not
typically available.
There are major concerns with such an approach. Much of what a sound
engineer does is creative and based on artistic decisions. It is doubtful that
such decisions could be effectively reproduced by a machine. But if the auto-
mation is successful, then machines may replace sound engineers. However,
it is important to note that these tools are not intended to remove the creativ-
ity from audio production. Nor do they require software to reproduce artistic
decisions, although this would be an interesting direction for future research.
Rather, the tools rely on the fact that many of the challenges are technical
engineering tasks, some of which are perceived as creative decisions because
there is a wide range of approaches without a clear understanding of listener
preferences. By automating those engineering aspects of record production,
it will allow the musicians to concentrate on the music and allow the audio
engineers to concentrate on the more interesting, creative challenges.

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16

How Can Academic Practice

Inform Mix-Craft?
Gary Bromham

The democratization of music technology has led to a stark change in the

way we approach music production and specifically the art of mixing.
There is now a far greater need for an understanding of the processes and
technical knowledge that mix engineers, both amateur and professional,
need to execute their work practices. Where interns once learned their
craft from assisting professionals in the studio, it is now more common-
place for them to learn from a book, an instruction video or within a col-
lege or university environment. There are, as Paul Théberge suggests, a
“lack of apprenticeship placements” (Théberge, 2012). Unlike the 1960s,
’70s and ’80s, these days anyone can make a record, quite often work-
ing remotely and increasingly using headphones rather than speakers, and
in many cases, using spaces that weren’t designed to be studios. We use
sound libraries, plugin presets and templates and in doing so create the
illusion that an understanding of how we arrive at the finished sound isn’t
necessary. Technology gives us infinite options and possibilities, but often
stifles creativity and inhibits decision-making. There is a feeling that we
are using the technology without understanding it.
I would propose that it is therefore more important than ever that the
student and practitioner alike learn how to approach mixing with some
grounded theory and scientific knowledge. The DAW and indeed the proj-
ect studio have become ubiquitous, yet they are metaphors for the tradi-
tional recording studio. Academic research practices such as ethnographic
studies, scientific evaluation and auditory analysis (acoustic and psycho-
acoustic) can all greatly assist the understanding of the mix engineer’s
craft. How can we learn from aesthetical, musicological, historical and
scientific studies and apply them to a contemporary studio workflow?

Introduction

There is a tendency when talking about music production, or more specifi-

cally about mixing, to ask how academics and to an extent non-professional
mix engineers might benefit from the wisdom of practitioners. While this
is an extremely valid question and provides an essential framework for

245
246 Gary Bromham

analyzing workflows, aesthetics and creativity in the mix room, it does

not necessarily give precedence to the science and physics behind the mix
process. For this to happen, we need to make a clear distinction between
the critical or technical aspects of mixing and the more artistic and ana-
lytical decisions that inform mix-craft. A scientific approach to mixing is
concerned predominantly with physics, whereas an alternative approach
taken by a musicologist might be more focused on aesthetics or artistic
expression. In attempting to answer this question, a number of interviews
were conducted with both academics and practitioners, some who bridge
the gap between the two fields. The discussions that took place helped to
affirm and also inform some of the deductions made during my own career
as a producer and engineer.
According to Dr. Andrew Bourbon,1 Senior Lecturer in Audio Technol-
ogy at The London College of Music, there is a myth among non-academics
that you cannot have technical knowledge and still be creative in mixing.
Sometimes it is difficult to practice the two simultaneously, but they can
co-exist. Artist Peter Gabriel practices what he refers to as his Alpha and Zen
approach to producing music in the studio, in which he does not attempt to be
in the creative space while performing mundane editing or time-consuming
post-production tasks. Mixing music offers a similar challenge when decid-
ing how much we should allow scientific practice to influence creativity in
the mix workspace. His view contrasts with that of legendary engineer and
producer Tony Platt,2 who feels that we often get academic practice confused
with technical know-how and intuition in the studio: “Academics need to
find a reason for the way things are done. If I’m academic about mixing it
won’t work. I mess around and suddenly it works and I don’t know why!”
Producer and engineer, Dennis Weinreich3 echoes this sentiment when
talking about one of his mentors, Ken Scott:

He followed his nose. He knew how to do stuff but didn’t know why. He was
determined not to allow himself to become constrained by knowledge. He
saw no barriers. He was as Tom Magliozzi aptly put it “Unencumbered by the
thought process!”

It should be pointed out that Weinreich subsequently made it very clear

that this is the view of Ken Scott and that he in fact grew up with a scien-
tific background and still believes that physics form a very important part
of sound engineering and mix-craft.
Dr. George Fazekas,4 lecturer at Queen Mary University of London,
makes the pertinent point that the study of engineering and mixing is now
far more of an interdisciplinary area than ever before, when old skills need
to be studied in the context of new ones to inform future work practices.
You cannot look at music production from just one angle; it has to be
viewed from an academic as well as a practitioner’s viewpoint. This has
not, of course, always been the case. The men in ‘white coats’ at Abbey
Road Studios were hired for their technical or electrical skills, not their
creative skills, but the field has changed dramatically in the last ten years.
Fazekas also makes the point that mixing and production were not really
How Can Academics Inform Mix-Craft? 247

viewed as fields of research in academia before this point in time: “Gen-

erally researchers don’t tend to have much practical experience. We need
collaboration between academics and practitioners as this leads to new
methodologies, better work practices”.
The gradual reduction in the number of large recording studio facilities
has meant that there are far fewer opportunities for the aspiring intern.
This has in turn led to a plethora of recording schools, colleges and uni-
versities now offering an alternative to the conventional studio appren-
ticeship. Many factors have led to this situation, but the shrinking size
of the music industry, the decline of record sales and most importantly
the accessibility of mainstream music technology have all had a pivotal
role to play in this process. For too long, the music business has aligned
itself to an analog business model while operating in a digital age. Digital
distribution and marketing models are still relatively new, in many ways
in their infancy, but the production chain is now changing faster than ever
and requires an updated methodology. The speed at which an artist can
record, mix, master and distribute a new song has had a huge impact on
the way we use technology to achieve results. The mix engineer must be
able to instantly recall work and be able to track changes made at all stages
of the music production process. From editing, tuning and altering timing
to drum replacement, re-amping and even mastering, they are expected to
interpret and anticipate the journey taken from concept to consumer. The
luxury of spending ten years acquiring the necessary skills to mix music
in a studio environment is now sadly lacking. The main route to achieving
this goal is now predominantly through academia.

Apprenticeship

Many people might argue that an apprenticeship or internship in a more

traditional analog based recording studio might provide a better ground-
ing in recording techniques, production aesthetics and audio manipulation.
There can however be problems with this hypothesis. Dr. Francis Rumsey
makes the point that traditional recording practice requires learning from
a mentor, such as an experienced recording or mix engineer, but that this
process might be flawed if the apprentice cannot discern what is good or
bad. Academia in a sense arbitrates this process by assuming a certain
level of training and accomplishment on the part of the lecturer. He says,

If that person is a bullshitter then you don’t really stand a chance. That system
can be very arbitrary. Academic practice is however more likely to be reliable.
In academia from a scientific point of view at least you’re more likely to find
someone who knows what they are talking about. In studios you might be more
likely to find out more about what constitutes creativity. It’s a bit of a lottery
in many ways.5

With the adoption of digital recording and the ubiquitous nature of hard-
disk-based recording systems, the DAW has become a metaphor for the
recording studio in its conventional form. There is a greater need than
248 Gary Bromham

ever for an understanding of how established, often analog-based, practices

translate in the digital domain. Without knowing the context of how and
why original tools were learned by an apprentice, some of this knowledge
could easily be lost on the novice engineer. Where you once had to learn
and understand how a patchbay worked or how one part of a signal chain
might impact another, the process has in a sense been covered up when
using plugins. There doesn’t seem to be as much control over how they
interact with each other, and in many ways we are taught that this doesn’t
really matter. Some of the most creative moments in recording have come
from accidents where devices have been plugged up incorrectly and tech-
nology misappropriated; a knowledge of how this interaction takes place
in the analog domain can certainly help to inform how this might be used
creatively in the digital domain.
Andrew Bourbon makes the salient point about how an apprenticeship
in a recording studio has always created an academic environment. Assis-
tant engineers would always form arguments of their own leading to new
ideas being formed.
I don’t see the demise of the intern in the traditional recording studio
as necessarily being a negative thing but rather an excuse for a new breed
of engineer to emerge, one with a solid grounded knowledge gained on an
audio technology course and applied to a modern, quite possibly digital,
workflow. It is a changing of the guard.

Work Practices—The Limitation of the Medium

Mixing begins in the first hour of recording!

Teaching someone where to place a microphone can do more to help
their mixes than can any amount of post-production trickery. The reason
so many guitar amplifiers have a Shure SM57 placed in front of them at
the recording stage is because the natural EQ curve of the microphone sits
well in the balance of a track. With correct placement, very little process-
ing is needed. The microphone choice and placement can act like the ulti-
mate equalizer or the perfect natural environment to place a sound within.
Capturing the sound of a real space can add more depth than any artificial
reverberation algorithm or impulse response used in a convolution reverb.
The challenge here is that the student needs to be shown this and to under-
stand why the phenomenon will work. There is a myth that we can ‘fix it
in the mix’ because we have unlimited access to plugins and editing soft-
ware and that this will lead to some kind of technical nirvana (Emmerson,
2000). The reality is that unlimited choices and options can often lead to
confusion and cause the novice to lose sight of their original aims and
objectives. The interesting thing here, however, is that the inherent limita-
tion of a dynamic microphone, such as the now ubiquitous Shure SM57, in
fact becomes its very strength.
There is a commonly held belief among professional mix engineers that
balance is the foundation of mixing and that this process should begin
during the recording stage. When Roger Nichols was mixing Steely Dan,
How Can Academics Inform Mix-Craft? 249

he mixed everything as it was going down to tape. According to producer

and engineer Dennis Weinreich,

People have forgotten the process and function of balance; engineers got that
right at the recording stage. Big differences existed between the live source and
the medium which it was being played back from, a lot of engineering in the
early days was overcoming the limitations of that medium. Tape definitely had
shortcomings!6

A great deal of this statement stems from necessity, and it wasn’t really until
the mid-1980s with the advent of 48-track sessions that the mix started to
become a post-production process. From the late 1980s onwards, and with
the emergence of digital recording technologies, the demographic would
change again! The digital revolution in a sense changed mixing forever.
No longer were there concerns about degradation of audio quality or about
restrictions imposed by having a limited track count. Instead, the possi-
bilities became endless. This changed the role of the mix engineer into an
interpreter who would have to imagine what the artists’ intentions were
and act as someone who was expected to have vision and creativity when
shaping the sound of a mix. Thus was the ‘superstar’ mix engineer con-
ceived. Probably no one personified this more than Bob Clearmountain, a
house engineer at the Power Station in New York, who started to be hired
for his creative skills as a mix engineer. The important thing is to acknowl-
edge his pedigree as a recording engineer in the first instance. Andrew
Bourbon says, “You need to see recording as part of mixing, they are not
a separate entity. Look at all the great mix engineers and they are all good
recording engineers”.
In a sense, the function of the studio has come full circle with the use
of the laptop as mobile recording and production medium. In his chapter
‘The end of the world as we know it’ in The Art of Record Production, Paul
Théberge (2012) refers to the studio as a mobile entity and talks about
how this has impacted record production and mix practice. The bedroom
studio is now ubiquitous, and the use of headphones for monitoring is
now commonplace. The typical home studio is entirely unsuitable for
mixing records, so there is a greater need than ever to grasp how acous-
tics will impact our environment and how to work around these inherent
shortcomings.

Listening Skills

Developing technical and critical listening skills is of paramount impor-

tance to the sound engineer when listening to and evaluating sound. The
ability to clearly identify a problematic area in a mix, to hear a certain
thing and act upon, it is arguably one of the biggest challenges. Learning
to describe sounds in technical terms will generally provide a much faster
route towards getting the results you want in a studio, and by using a struc-
tured learning process you can arguably get results far quicker than grad-
ually picking things up as you go along. Many instructors now insist on
250 Gary Bromham

critical listening being a key part of their curriculum. The fact that many
of us work in less-than-perfect recording spaces has meant that a grounded
knowledge in both technical listening skills and acoustics is not a lux-
ury anymore. It is not uncommon to see a mix engineer walking around
the control room in a studio when evaluating bass response, for example.
When used in combination with a basic technical understanding of room
modes, room shape, reflections and diffusion, for example, this knowledge
can help to inform creative and aesthetic decisions that impact the sonic
quality of the final mix. Positioning and choice of speakers are very much
determined by the sound of the room they are placed in. We cannot ignore
the fact that most popular music is now consumed via headphones, and it
is therefore remiss of the sound engineer to ignore these facts when mix-
ing a song. Some type of formal academic training in the area of listening
skills and physics is now almost certainly essential to making critical deci-
sions when mixing sound. In Jason Corey’s book Audio Production and
Critical Listening—Technical Ear Training (2010), “Technical ear training
is a type of perceptual learning focused on timbral, dynamic, and spa-
tial attributes of sound as they relate to audio recording and production”.
A concept of spatial evaluation is also necessary when learning to listen
to sound. An ability to assess the perceived width and depth of the sound
stage is important when creating a space to mix and record in. Nowhere
will this have more impact than in our choice of placement of speakers, as
has already been mentioned.
It is also important to make a distinction between critical and analytical
listening. In Understanding and Crafting the Mix (2006), William Moylan
talks about technical and scientific listening skills vs. artistic or creative
expression. He says that understanding sound is perceiving sound for its
inherent qualities. Francis Rumsey and Tim McCormick discuss a simi-
lar phenomenon in their book Sound and Recording (2009) when talking
about auditory perception. Though not essential to becoming an accom-
plished mixing engineer, a basic understanding of how psychoacoustics
work can be helpful. The word ‘perception’ is used several times in this
chapter, particularly in the context of using vintage technologies and their
inherent sonic imprints. Psychoacoustics is essentially the scientific study
of sound perception. More specifically, it is the measurement of psycho-
logical and physiological responses to sound. Quite often how we perceive
something to sound is invariably not how it actually sounds; it is influenced
by many factors outside of the auditory experience. The GUI (graphic
user interface) in a DAW, an audio plugin or an iOS app, depending on
their visual reference point, will influence the outcome of processing a
sound. This becomes an important factor for the engineer to consider, as
employing a certain degree of scientific study will tell them that they are
not always hearing what they think they are hearing. It is also particularly
relevant in an age when there are so many visual representations in the
studio and we are often told that we should listen to sound and not look at
it. This challenge is more pronounced today than it was thirty years ago
when engineers relied far less on visual feedback. Most music today is
composed and produced on a computer.
How Can Academics Inform Mix-Craft? 251

Sonic Trends—The Branding of Mix Engineers

Since 2002, the software company Waves Audio has released a string of
collections of plugins endorsed by famous mix engineers and producers.
Known as its Signature Series and including such luminaries as Eddie
Kramer, Chris Lord-Alge and Jack Joseph Puig, the plugin bundles pro-
vide the user with the opportunity to use, albeit virtually, a software
re-creation of the analog hardware used by the aforementioned profes-
sionals in their studios. Lists of presets created by these same famous
mix engineers for kick drum, rhythm guitar and lead vocal, among oth-
ers, provide an insight and a glimpse into the engineers’ technical and
aesthetic worlds. Slate Digital and Universal Audio have created a simi-
lar business model feeding off the same retro obsession. They draw upon
the phenomena of technostalgia to sell us a tiny part of a golden age of
studio technology used to make classic recordings that only a privileged
few were lucky enough to have been acquainted with. Accompanying
this trend is a myth that you, the amateur, or professional amateur, can
mix records to sound like one of your idols. An interesting observation
might concern the way such practices impact creativity. Creating an orig-
inal sonic stamp or signature often comes from the misuse or misappro-
priation of technology. It could be argued that the use of ‘famous mix
engineer’ presets doesn’t encourage the use of digital plugin technology
in an enquiring way but more likely encourages its use in an unquestion-
ing manner.
The practice of taking some of the sonic signature from mix engineers
and producers without necessarily understanding why you might use them
promotes a sort of sonic tourism without a map. Without an ability to inter-
rogate these technologies and their accompanying workflows, the use of
endless lists of presets and templates to mix a song merely serves as a
shortcut without providing an understanding of the underlying tools used
to execute a mix. Paul Théberge has discussed the history behind the use
and purpose of presets in Any Sound You Can Imagine (Théberge, 1997).
The original concept was to provide a keyboard player with a means of
taking the sounds they had created in the studio into a live context, but
more and more this idea has become an excuse for manufacturers to fill
a new machine with hundreds of presets to market new technologies. The
role and function of presets for mixing has largely been ignored or swept
under the carpet; this is for good reason because of the negative stigma
attached to such practices. It could be argued that the use of presets can
also limit creativity. A paint-by-numbers approach to using presets in mix-
ing can easily produce similar generic results in people’s mixes. It has been
suggested that many tracks produced in current popular music sound the
same today and that they have similar sonic imprints. This might largely be
because the same plugins with the same presets are being used. A ‘one size
fits all’ approach to mixing without any understanding of the tools being
used will probably not yield a unique-sounding mix. Nowhere is this seen
more forcibly today than in mastering, where it is not uncommon to see a
preset chain used to correct a less than satisfactory mix.
252 Gary Bromham

Academic practice and study can help us understand some of the tech-
niques used by well-known studio practitioners. A student should aim to
reflect on the practices and aesthetics used by producers and engineers
and not merely try to emulate them. Academic practice encourages us to
interrogate and understand why some of these digital recreations are being
used. For many young producers and engineers, or those without a con-
ventional internship, the context of the original equipment could easily be
lost on them.
Another interesting aspect is the obvious marketing benefits gained by
selling products based upon the legacy of producers and engineers and the
nostalgic value attached to their equipment. There is an assumption with
limited validity that there might be a shortcut to you sounding just like
them. The new Stephen Slate, Chris Lord-Alge mixing course found at
www.audiolegends.com takes this concept to a new level. A full session in
a DAW of choice is sold and subsequently downloaded with all the plugins
needed to copy the mixing workflow of Chris Lord-Alge. It is in many
ways an ingenious marketing strategy! It might arguably be more import-
ant to ask ourselves what the impact of copying the techniques and tech-
nologies of others might be. Can it have a negative impact on our ability
to produce original work? Misappropriating technology can often produce
more interesting results, and using some of our favorite mix engineers’
techniques out of context might be of more interest when considering their
impact on creativity: “Sometimes, not knowing the theoretical operation
of a tool can result in more interesting results by thinking outside the box”
(Cascone, 2004).

Emulation Not Innovation!

Why innovate when you can emulate?7

It is not uncommon for plugins to use references points from hard-
ware equivalents used in the past. Equally, it is not that unusual to see
manufacturers producing much cheaper recreations of classic studio
equipment than the original incarnations. The real issue is the cost to
innovation by an insistence on embracing retro aesthetics in design and
manufacturing. The perception that current record production and mix-
ing techniques are somehow better as a result of these retro technologies
can lead to confusion. There is, as Andrew Bourbon proposes, a whole
list of problems as a result what he calls “emulation culture”: “The ten-
dency is to emulate not innovate. To innovate means that you then have
to educate the market”.
Familiarity plays a defining role in this process. Users feel a sense of
security both culturally and scientifically when they connect with technol-
ogy that has traditionally been used to shape work practices of an engineer.
As Brian Eno says,

The trouble begins with a design philosophy that equates ‘more options’ with
‘greater freedom’. Designers struggle endlessly with a problem that is almost
How Can Academics Inform Mix-Craft? 253

non-existent for users. How do we pack the maximum number of options into
the minimum space and price? In my experience, the instruments and tools that
endure (because they are loved by their users) have limited options.
(Eno, 1999)

Eno goes on to argue that this is why we resort to retro technologies,

to the familiar, because we are stifled creatively by having too many
possibilities. “Indeed, familiarity breeds content. When you use familiar
tools, you draw on a long cultural conversation—a whole shared his-
tory of usage—as your backdrop, as the canvas to juxtapose your work”
(Eno, 1999). An interesting parallel can be drawn here with the work of
Andrew McPherson and Victor Zappi with their D-Box musical instru-
ment. D-Box is an instrument that can be hacked or modified by the
user and in doing so the meaning or appropriation can be changed in
unconventional ways. The key to the creative aspect of the D-Box is its
simplicity and limited controls.8
Recording technology didn’t have the same significance as it does
now—it wasn’t held in such high esteem. There is an air of iconicity in
today’s home studio where virtual recreations are ubiquitous; they assume
an almost untouchable and unquestioning status. It is okay for commercial
software and hardware companies to sell products based on nostalgia, but
there is a need to interrogate these technologies and understand the con-
text that they are used in. It is useful for contemporary mix engineers and
producers to have a notion of the implications of such technologies, as
this can have far-reaching consequences on creativity in the studio. When
we look at a software recreation of a classic piece of analog equipment,
such as a Universal Audio 1176 compressor, we are instantly transported
to a place of nostalgic significance. It takes on a whole new context when
semantic terms such as ‘warm’, ‘punchy’ or ‘classic’ are ascribed to it. As
Alan Williams (2015) says in his paper ‘Technology and the Cry of the
Lonely Recordist’,

Software emulations are not inherently nostalgic, though much of the market-
ing surrounding them capitalizes on the desire to harness the past. Since digital
audio processes are distinctly different from analog electronic and acoustic
ones, these products present a functionality that masks the actual technology
involved.

Creativity can come from misappropriating technology, and a traditional

mix engineer might use the equipment in ways it wasn’t intended. This is
less likely, though certainly not impossible, to happen in the digital domain,
as there is a sense of pre-defined purpose and intention when using a series
of plugins chained together, in contrast to patching pieces of outboard in
series. There is arguably less left to chance when making a virtual connec-
tion than there is when making a physical one. The debate about ‘analog
versus digital’ and ‘in the box’ versus ‘outside the box’ is one that will
surely continue for some time, but it is only through academic study that
we can start to make an informed judgment about the true implications.
254 Gary Bromham

The Language of Mixing

Surprisingly, one of the most underresearched areas of the mix process

and one which so often leads to much misunderstanding is the use of lan-
guage in the studio. A language does not really exist for describing sound
quality. How do we define ‘warmth’ when the term could equally mean
‘muddiness’ to another set of ears? The use of semantics in the recording
studio, where different meanings or descriptors are used to describe the
same thing, is common. When doing an acoustical analysis of a mix, there
will inevitably be differences in the terminology used when describing the
attributes. At Queen Mary University of London, a great deal of research
has been done in this area. The EPSRC9 funded FAST10 project is focused
on ways that semantic (web) technologies can assist in informing music
consumption. This process starts in the recording studio at the production
stage and aims to define how the use of language can help to define better
work practices. Another important technology developed in collaboration
between Birmingham City University and Queen Mary University is the
SAFE11 project. A series of audio processing plugins have been designed
in which the user can add their own semantic descriptors and in doing so
help to describe sounds using more accessible terms. Processes such as
data mining, semantic analysis and machine learning can all be applied
to the descriptors, which are collated in such projects. These could help
to offer a potential solution to resolving the subjectivity of understanding
the language used in production and mixing practices. This in turn helps
inform the formulation of best practices used in the creation of new tools,
which can be used by engineers.

New Technologies to Assist Users in Mixing

Interacting with the tools we use is important in many areas of perfor-

mance, music production and mixing. It can be argued that most DAWs
have restrictions and limitations of some kind, and in a sense we become
locked into a systematic way of working determined by the software we
use (Lanier, 2011). It could also be argued that the DAW we choose dic-
tates the workflow. Logic Pro, Cubase or Ableton Live, for example, are
good tools for being creative, whereas Avid Pro Tools, Sony Soundforge
or SADiE subjectively perform better as post-production tools. Regardless
of their feature-sets or attributes, they all work predominantly through the
medium of mouse and computer. This in itself presents challenges when
evaluating new ways of controlling or manipulating some of the technolo-
gies that can assist mix engineers. Dr. Mathieu Barthet,12 Lecturer in Dig-
ital Media at Queen Mary University London, says,

The ability to use gestural control or vocalization devices to manipulate sounds

in the DAW has interesting possibilities. Through methods used in distributed
cognition we can begin to understand the correlation between a physical object
and a virtual one. The interaction between humans and technologies is an area
of great interest to researchers.
How Can Academics Inform Mix-Craft? 255

Perceptual experiments are another great way to help us evaluate the mood
created when listening to music, and the ability to measure similarities and
differences between mixes can assist in informing future technologies for
engineers. This can help us to identify attributes and patterns between mixes.
Research at Queen Mary University of London using technologies found at
www.isophonics.net, such as Sonic Visualiser, Soundbite and Mood Player,
can help to inform mix practices by analyzing sound attributes and assess-
ing their impact on workflow. A great deal can be learned from conducting
mood-based studies and analyzing their effects upon attitudes to a mix.

Conclusion

The word ‘academia’ can send mixed messages when mentioned in creative
circles. Some would argue, as Tony Platt has suggested in our discussion,
that academics have a need to ‘pigeonhole’ work processes or put every-
thing into neat boxes to explain what is taking place in the studio. He finds it
frustrating that academics think there is a golden key, which will somehow
unlock the door to knowledge. Francis Rumsey conversely suggests the pos-
sibility that maybe academic training is a substitute for the fact that record-
ing studios aren’t providing a conventional learning environment anymore.

Maybe Academic Training Is the ONLY Option for Many?

Andrew Bourbon and George Fazekas believe there is a greater need than
ever for an interdisciplinary approach to mixing practices. There is a need
for knowledge about old skills, which can in turn help to inform and inves-
tigate new technologies and practices. Bourbon continually makes the point
that we should interrogate some of the technologies we so often use without
questioning. More importantly, we need to learn to ask questions about some
of the techniques used by mix engineers and reflect upon them. The pathway
to knowledge is through understanding how we arrive at a finished mix and
we should be asking, what makes something sound like a record?
Whatever our conclusion, I would propose that because of the way
music is now produced and, more pertinently, mixed, it is more important
than ever to conduct some form of scientific evaluation alongside an aes-
thetic reflection of different workflows of mix engineers to help inform
future practices. A good way to do this is by educating via an academic
institution or medium. There will never be a substitute for creativity, but
there may be an alternative route to gaining scientific knowledge for the
intern, which could take years to assimilate under a conventional recording
and increasingly less common studio model.

Notes
  1 Dr. Andrew Bourbon. Interview with author 2015.
  2 Tony Platt. Interview with author 2015.
  3 Dennis Weinreich. Interview with author 2015.
256 Gary Bromham

  4 Dr. George Fazekas. Interview with author 2015.

  5 Dr. Francis Rumsey. Interview with author 2015.
  6 Dennis Weinreich. Interview with author 2015.
  7 Andrew Bourbon. Interview with author 2015.
  8 D-Box. A hackable musical instrument which is the collaborative work of Victor Zappi
from the University of British Columbia in Canada and Andrew McPherson from Queen
Mary University of London.
  9 EPSRC. Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council. https://www.epsrc.ac.uk
10 FAST IMPACt. Fusing Audio and Semantic Technologies for Intelligent Music Produc-
tion and Consumption. http://www.semanticaudio.ac.uk
11 SAFE. Semantic Audio Feature Extraction. http://www.semanticaudio.co.uk
12 Dr. Mathieu Barthet. Interview with author 2015.

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17

The Dreaded Mix Sign-Off

Handing Over to Mastering
Rob Toulson

Introduction

The final stage of mixing, and indeed the final responsibility of the mix engi-
neer, is usually the handover to mastering, which brings a number of creative
and technical considerations. In the traditional approach to music production,
mastering is conducted by a specialist audio engineer once the final mixes
have been consolidated to a stereo format. In the early days, mixes would be
recorded to a physical two-track analog tape that would then be shipped to
the mastering engineer. Nowadays it is more common for the stereo mixes
to be sent as lossless audio files through an Internet file transfer. The final
signing-off of the mix is an intrepid point in the process, requiring the art-
ist, music producer and mix engineer to agree that they have completed the
mixes, which can reveal any uncertainties or insecurities that they may bear
in relation to the project. The mix sign-off and handover to mastering is there-
fore seen as a critical and crucial point in the music production process.
Approaches to, and technologies for, mixing and mastering have evolved,
as have all aspects of music production. New methods and approaches
bring opportunities to simplify and reduce the cost of production, although
with the potential for practitioners to inadvertently cut corners and under-
perform in both creative and technical contexts. Modern processing tools
enable mix engineers to also master their own music, and there are a num-
ber of arguments for and against the use of mastering techniques at the
mixing stage. For example, it can be argued that mix engineers need to
take a greater responsibility towards technical attributes such as dynamics
and noise cancellation. Whereas, in contrast, the use of mix-bus limiting
when generating draft listening copies can confuse and falsify the sign-
off process. Furthermore, it may be seen that mastering engineers prefer
or are requested to work from mix stems (i.e., a number of consolidated
audio tracks that collectively make up the mix), but does that mean they
are effectively mixing as well as mastering the songs?
This chapter discusses the critical point of completing the mix and mov-
ing towards mastering, that is, it considers the crucial process of ‘signing
off’ a mix and reaching agreement between stakeholders that a song is
ready for mastering. The discussion draws on the experience and expertise

257
258 Rob Toulson

of a number of award-winning mix and mastering engineers through direct

discussion and interview, particularly with respect to methods and con-
temporary practices that are common at the mix-completion stage. The
mix and mastering engineers contributing to this chapter are George Mas-
senburg, Mandy Parnell, Ronald Prent, Darcy Proper and Michael Roma-
nowski, whose professional insights give a firsthand reflection on best
practice for finalizing the mix and handing over to mastering.

Decision-Making and Signing-Off the Mix

The final signing-off of the mix is a hugely difficult task, as it is the crit-
ical point in the music production process where the most significant cre-
ative and technical decisions are committed for the final time. Signing off
can expose any uncertainties or insecurities that the artist, producer or mix
engineer may bear in relation to the project. Historically, mixes would be
bounced down through an analog mixing desk to a physical two-track analog
mix-master tape. The tape would then be shipped to the mastering engineer,
who would then manipulate the audio where necessary and cut the master
disc that would be used to manufacture vinyl records. Therefore, the sign-off
process was final—it was far too time-consuming and costly to make any
changes after final mixes were committed to tape. In many ways, the modern
process makes things more flexible. Total recall of ‘in-the-box’ mixes means
that it is very easy to make small changes at any time, and the possibility to
quickly share files over the Internet means that, on the surface, there is little
additional cost or time constraint with making such changes. However, it
appears that the modern process, though much more flexible and reversible,
often makes it harder for artists and engineers to sign off a mix, which can
be considerably disruptive if the mastering has already started.
Mandy Parnell, of Black Saloon Studios in London, is a Grammy
Award–winning mastering engineer who has worked with the likes of
Bjork, Annie Lennox and Aphex Twin, among many others. Mandy
explains that artists and mix engineers now regularly find it hard to agree
on the final mix:

I’ve noticed over time that when clients can hear their music on professional
loudspeakers, they realize there are details they hadn’t heard before, so one of
the trends is that the number of remixes that are presented to mastering has
increased over the years.

Mandy explains that the time and cost implications of this ‘back and forth’
can be substantial:

People just want to tweak. It’s a big problem. We have to take notes on every-
thing; in mastering we are still using a lot of analog tools, so to recall a whole
album is a lot of work if the client has gone back in and tweaked the mix.

Ronald Prent, a recording and mix engineer at Wisseloord Studios in The

Netherlands who has worked with many successful artists, including Elton
The Dreaded Mix Sign-Off 259

John, Def Leppard and Rammstein, concurs with Parnell’s assessment.

Ronald explains:
We live in a world of instant recall and I think that’s a reason why people want
to change things after they’ve signed off. But if you strive for a little bit more
quality, so you don’t mix in the box, and instead you use an analog console or
you use outboard equipment, then it’s not as simple as pressing a recall button,
it takes two hours.
I find, because I work that way, artists get the time to listen and sign it off, and
until I finish the whole album they have plenty of time to reflect and request
changes. But they know that two days after I’ve finished the project, and I’m
on another album, if they want to change anything then that costs money.
That really stops people from doing the stupid “can you increase the guitar
1 or 2 dB?” I choose the analog approach because it makes the client listen
more carefully and listen more to the essence of the song. Is the song really
going to be better if I put the guitar up by 2 dB, or does it really matter?

George Massenburg, whose career has covered many aspects of music pro-
duction and technology development, earning him Grammy Awards and
production credits with artists Earth, Wind & Fire, Billy Joel and Lyle
Lovett, agrees on the benefits of working with an analog mix setup:

Working on a desk means you are learning the song as it goes by. You mix live
as the song goes by and you’re making a commitment to the levels.

Ronald Prent emphasizes further that mixing in an analog environment

helps with decision-making and reflecting on the context of the whole
song as opposed to just short passages at a time:

When you work with an analog tape machine, you press play and you listen to
and mix the whole song, and then when it’s done you rewind and press play
again. Nowadays people loop a 10-second section for half an hour, then they
loop the next 10 seconds for half an hour too. I insist that the students who
I teach listen to the whole song. I tell them not to loop, to play if from the
beginning, so when they make a change they know whether it works or not
for the whole song. The rewind time is important too, because you think and
reflect while the tape is turning back. I play from the beginning to the end and
I mix the song. If you hear things 20 times in a loop you get bored and you lose
judgement of its context with the whole song.

George Massenburg explains a wise approach for agreeing and signing off
aspects of the mix as it is in process:

In the very earliest steps of the mix, especially a big complicated mix, the thing
you have to get right is the vocal. To get that right you need the artist to sign off
on a vocal sound before you build the mix around it.

Darcy Proper is a multiple Grammy Award–winning mastering engineer

from Wisseloord Studios, who identifies that an artist’s confidence in their
work contributes significantly to the challenge of signing off a mix:
260 Rob Toulson

Part of the reason why people are putting off decision-making until the last
possible second is because they are working in environments that make it dif-
ficult to make those final decisions with any confidence. One of the downsides
to people working at home in an uncontrolled environment is that it’s very
difficult to have the same level of confidence as there was years ago when all
the processes needed to be conducted in a professional studio. I think insecu-
rity is part of the equation, it’s not just a lack of knowledge, but, because of
the circumstances in which people are working—and in many cases within the
budget which they are working—it’s very difficult for artists and mix engineers
to say “ok, yeah now I’m sure that it is done”.

Darcy adds that sometimes being too close, or too emotionally attached, to the
music can cloud the sign-off process, and means that moments of accidental
beauty might be discarded if someone has an unattainable vision of perfection.
It is usually therefore beneficial for artists and songwriters to work in teams
with specialist mix and mastering engineers, rather than alone:

There could be a beautiful natural performance where there is a fantastic break

in the artist’s voice, just at the moment where it is reaching its emotional peak
of poignancy, and as a first-time listener you hear that and it just makes your
heart break and you think, “that’s perfect because it’s not perfect”. That fresh
perspective when you hear it for the first time [as the mastering engineer] is
the same perspective that listeners will have when they hear it for the first time.
I think that’s an important part in the decision-making process. If you leave
those decisions to the people who have been on that journey the whole time,
their tendency might be to fix things that aren’t broken and thereby take the
beauty and the joy out of the nuances and the beautiful flaws.

Ronald Prent also emphasizes that the reversible processes that have been
allowed by digital audio workstations (DAWs) actually encourage practice
that is counterproductive with regards to decision-making:

I think in an education context we should ask Avid to make a Pro Tools version
that doesn’t have an undo button and only allows destructive recording. I’m
serious, because that’s how we learn to make decisions, but not only technical
decisions, very much musical decisions too. If you add something new and it
doesn’t work, then it’s because what you have recorded is good already and
there’s no space for hundreds of keyboard overdubs and percussion samples
and programming, because you’ve already determined musically what is right.
If you do destructive recording, once you hit record the other content is gone,
so you have to make musical decisions based on technical knowledge—the
undo button killed music as far as I’m concerned.

Critical decision-making is certainly one of the most important skills

required for creating a good record, throughout the complete recording,
mixing and mastering process. As Mandy Parnell simply states:

Mixers need to own their mix.

Michael Romanowski, a Grammy-nominated engineer from Coast Master-

ing in San Francisco with several thousand credits to his name, echoes this
The Dreaded Mix Sign-Off 261

sentiment, noting the crucial importance of the artist taking responsibility

for their music:

An important trait for artists to adopt is having courage, owning your own
music, having intent—why are you making it sound like this?

It is clear, therefore, that if artists and mix engineers are brave and focused,
and have reasons for their artistic choices, then this positivity can drive the
record production forward in a successful and productive manner. How-
ever, one further issue at the mix sign-off stage is with artists being unsure
how their mix will translate into the real world of music consumption,
with its unlimited number of playback systems and formats. Ronald Prent
explains:

Signing off the mix has changed in many ways. More and more often, the
artist is not there when you are mixing, and they want an mp3 to listen to after
the session, because that is how it will sound on iTunes or an iPhone. This is
the quality they are used to judging; if they are in the studio listening through
a pair of real speakers, it scares the shit out of them sometimes, because they
hear the detail that we are used to hearing, but they don’t know how to deal
with it.

Ronald’s solution is a novel one:

I stream to my client when I mix live and then they can choose whichever
mobile device, earbuds or computer speakers they want to listen on. I stream
MP4 live the whole day and they can listen in whenever they want; if they are
well equipped I can stream 96/24 lossless too. Artists are starting to demand
that and it really works. The comments I get back are good comments—they
can Internet chat with me in shorthand and I get far better comments, they are
coherent and easy to translate.

Comparison Is the Route of All Discontent

In signing off a mix, artists and mix engineers are often drawn to compare
their work with that of other practitioners. This can be a dangerous element
to throw into the critical and delicate process of mix sign-off. George Mas-
senburg recalls:

There is an old aphorism that says “comparison is the route of all discontent”.

Michael Romanowski equally dispels the theory that comparison is neces-

sary for sign-off, and states that comparison and competition has no valid
place in music production:

I don’t understand or agree with the idea of competition in music production.

This is art and it shouldn’t be ‘this painting is more blue than that one, therefore
this one wins’—we don’t do that. Own your mixes rather than compare them
to somebody else.
262 Rob Toulson

Darcy Proper also agrees that making music in comparison to some other
art is essentially a contradictory process:

It’s a funny message that we get from our clients; their music is completely
unique and impossible to characterize and they are very proud of that fact,
but they also want it to sound exactly like whatever is on the radio right now!
Artists should celebrate their music for the fact that it is unique and let every
part of the production process celebrate that uniqueness, rather than trying to
turn it into a song that sounds like something that is already there in the Top 40.

There is clearly a fine line between using reference material as a source

of inspiration, which is deemed positive, and as a source for comparison
or competition, which is regularly counterproductive. While profession-
als agree that good music is something that should be celebrated for its
uniqueness, using examples of high-quality recordings for inspiration can
clearly help the focus and direction of the mix and mastering processes, as
George Massenburg states:

It’s good advice for the mix engineer to get reference material from the artist
at the very beginning of the process. Play me a CD or whatever, give me some
idea where you want to go with this and we can at least tell you if it’s not
possible! If necessary you can tell the artist “you can’t get there from here”,
because that’s not what you have on the recording. But identifying the artist’s
irrationalities early on is helpful!

Equally, Mandy Parnell describes the importance of reference material

and creative insights at the mastering stage, in enabling her to giving the
mix its necessary final polish:

If artists can give us direction that helps. Some of my clients describe things in
pictures and abstract art, they come in with laptops, show me pictures, play me
music, we talk a lot. I think there has to be sufficient communication; you can’t
just send the mix without the context or a reference point.

Ronald Prent also highlights misconceptions on the level of manipulation

and improvement that can be achieved at the mix stage:

If you just mix a project, it’s two or three songs of total guesswork and some-
times you find out after mixing three songs you’ve just been enhancing what
they’ve recorded and carried on with that vision. But it’s totally not what they
want, they want a completely different record, like they’ve recorded acoustic
guitars and nice piano but they want an AC/DC sound. And sometimes I have
to sit there and say, sorry you didn’t record that.

In particular, Ronald explains his go-to records for defining a high-quality

final mix:

One of the best reference points for me is Songs in the Key of Life by Stevie
Wonder, the song ‘Isn’t She Lovely’, it’s very low volume. It’s better than many
modern references; they often sound crappy and distorted.
The Dreaded Mix Sign-Off 263

Another great reference record is Joshua Judges Ruth by Lyle Lovett, which was
mixed by George Massenburg. That record changed my life. It has the right foot-
print sonically, dynamically, because it’s made with passion for music and audio
and you can put it on in any studio in any place and if you know how that record
is supposed to sound, there you have the best reference for mixing. I grew up
with these records and if you get anywhere close then you’re doing a great thing.

Mandy Parnell highlights the challenge of finding valuable reference

material for mix engineers, agreeing with Ronald Prent that older records
are more realistic comparisons, given the high levels of loudness that are
prevalent on modern recordings:

I find especially with young mix engineers and producers, they don’t have a
suitable reference point. The modern references they have are already mas-
tered, a lot of them to a ridiculously loud level, so they are chasing those pro-
ductions and mixing to compete with something that isn’t technically correct.
I’m trying to educate people to listen back to classic recordings. But even some
of the classic albums have been remastered recently, and they are not a great
reference point sonically, in comparison to the records I grew up with.

To Stem or Not to Stem?

A modern approach to mastering uses a number of instrument stems,

allowing the mastering engineer to manipulate individual aspects of the
mix, rather than just the entire mix. The stems are created by the engineer,
on completion of the mixing, by soloing groups of instruments that have
contributed to the final mix. Each stem will usually be a stereo file and
there may be, for example, an individual stem for each of drums, bass, key-
boards, guitar and vocals, depending on the type of music. Usually effects,
reverbs, delays and parallel processing will be present in each stem too.
At first, mixing to stems appears to be advantageous for allowing the
mastering engineer more options and flexibility. Many mastering engi-
neers, however, report that if a producer desires the mastering to be con-
ducted from stems, then it indicates a failing earlier in the mix or recording
process, or an unwillingness to decide on a final balance for the mix.
Mandy Parnell explains:

People are asking me to master from stems, but basically they are just failing
to make decisions or sign off.

Furthermore, the use of stems at the mastering stage means that the evalu-
ation of balance—the relative volumes of instruments—becomes the ulti-
mate responsibility of the mastering engineer, which Mandy points out
requires different listening skills:

Working with stems requires a different headspace. Mastering engineers listen

differently to mixers. Stems take us out of our comfort zone and put us in a mix
zone, which isn’t our expertise and usually the results are not as good. Master-
ing engineers tend to work on emotion, whereas mixing is all about balance.
264 Rob Toulson

Darcy Proper also emphasizes that a different mindset is required for evaluat-
ing balance versus the sonic attributes of the song as a whole once complete:

The reason I’m not a mix engineer is because mixing is a different mindset.
When you are rebalancing things, it’s a very different focus than the fine-tuning
of EQ and compression that’s involved in mastering.

Michael Romanowski feels even more strongly, altogether refusing to

master music from mix stems:

I don’t do stems; that’s not my job as a mastering engineer, that’s mixing. I feel
strongly that if you can’t make the decision then you are not ready for master-
ing. It’s lazy; if you’re hired as a mixing engineer to do the mixes, then mix it,
don’t bring it to me to do your job!
With mastering, there are just two channels. You are asking “how does the
content present itself when it’s finished; dynamically; EQ-wise; fades; spaces;
order?” Mixing is balance. If I’m asked to take stems that means I’m not being
completely objective with the presentation of the music. If I can sit back and
listen to the presentation, then I can develop an opinion on how it sounds and
I can make an appropriate judgement and decide the actions to take from there.

When the mix engineer creates mix stems, an important aspect is to ensure
that the individual stems, when summed together, are identical to the ste-
reo output that was used to monitor and sign off the mix. Unfortunately,
this is very often not the case, as Ronald Prent explains:

If you give the stems for mastering—no matter how well you set up your rout-
ing on your console and how well you manage your gain structure—if you add
the stems up, it’s not the same mix, because it doesn’t use the processing that
you use at the end to make your mix.

Darcy Proper agrees; although she is willing to work with stems if neces-
sary, the best results come when a mix has been properly signed off:

The projects that have turned out the best in my career, they have all come
from stereo mixes, not stems. Of course stems have an important place in film
and game music, but, most of the time, the sum of the stems doesn’t equal ‘the
mix’—it’s never quite as simple as summing up the stems and then playing
those all off at zero.

The argument that stems allow different aspects of the mix to be mastered
separately is not one that simplifies the process, indeed it makes mastering
much more complicated, as Darcy explains:

If they haven’t submitted a complete mix, then what’s often needed is far more
complicated than just adjusting the individual stems by a certain level for the
whole piece. I may likely need to look across the whole song, raising vocals
during the chorus and dropping them maybe in the verse. It really is mixing and
it’s very different to what we should be doing at the mastering stage.
The Dreaded Mix Sign-Off 265

George Massenburg emphasizes this point even further:

Does anybody like stems? I hate having to send stems for mastering. It’s not
as simple as people think. For example, if the A&R department gets back to
you and says “well, you got to bring up the bass”, it’s a lot more than that; you
have to add the bass and a little more kick and whatever else is in the low end,
the low end of the piano, the low end of the voice, everything changes. These
things do not exist independently, and the fiction of stems is that you can allow
the record company to make what is in their mind an improvement, and they
are just idiots, it’s not an improvement.

Massenburg goes on to emphasize that the use of stems is indeed a method

of avoiding key decision-making, and allows record companies and A&R
representatives to take more of an active role in the music production
process:

Working with stems is basically a means for A&R to get their hands on your
record and to control something about the record and, most importantly for
them, to own a part of it. It allows insecure A&R men to take ownership of
something.

Ronald Prent also highlights somewhat underhanded processes that can

take place following the delivery of stems to the record label:

We are asked to print stems just in case. It’s usually the client, artist, producer
or in some cases record companies that demand stems for remixing purposes.
But they don’t want to pay any more, or they want to give your stems to some-
one else to remix, which I find very underhanded.

Mixing and Mastering in a Single Process

The widespread availability of consumer digital audio workstations and

advanced audio processing plug-ins means that it is now possible for
anyone to record, mix and master their own music at relatively little cost.
Given the challenges with raising budgets for music production projects,
it is therefore possible to cut costs by working autonomously. In particu-
lar, it is now possible for an engineer to attempt to mix and master their
own music, sometimes in a single process. Michael Romanowski sug-
gests that mixing and mastering should rarely be conducted at the same
time, or by the same person, because the objectives for each process is
very different:

There are cases where with the right person who knows what they are doing,
with the right perspective and intent can take both roles. But it is decidedly
two hats, because your objectives for mixing and mastering are completely
different. It’s not simple to do—putting something on the output bus of a mix
and saying that is mastering—that’s not mastering, that’s something completely
different, that’s finishing the mix.
266 Rob Toulson

Michael also emphasizes the importance of critical and objective listening

at the mastering stage, and highlights the challenges with moving between
creative and technical processes in music production in general:

This is art and art is expression. We have a left brain and a right brain, and I think
of it like a pendulum. The brain has a creative side and a technical side and if
you’re the artist and you’re going to try to record and mix yourself, you think
“I’ve got a great idea for a song, now I’m gonna open up a preset on a plug-in and
connect this thing in here, wait a minute, what was that lick again?” I feel like the
pendulum never swings nearly as far as it should on either side because it’s con-
stantly going back and forth and you’re not getting your full artistic expression,
nor your best technical level of capturing that. So consider hiring professions
throughout the chain to be able to do the best they can to represent that art.

Darcy Proper also emphasizes the difficulties with taking the responsibil-
ity for both mixing and mastering a record:

As the artist or mix engineer, by the time you get to the mastering process you
are in one of two states: Either you feel that it’s absolutely your best work and
you may be tempted to believe that it’s perfect and doesn’t need further master-
ing, while a few minor adjustments could really make it shine. Very often the
opposite is true too, in that it doesn’t excite you anymore, because you’re just
tired of it. Then you start fixing things that aren’t broken, and when you start
fixing things that aren’t broken you are actually doing harm and damage. That’s
one of the advantages of having another person involved who doesn’t bring any
baggage to the session.

There can be a temptation to consider mastering as simply raising the loud-

ness of mixes to a commercial standard, and, as such, it is possible to add
loudness by using a limiter plug-in on the mix output channel. However,
most professional mastering and mix engineers agree that this is not good
practice for a number of reasons. Michael Romanowski explains:

I’ve seen people say “I’m gonna start a song and I’m gonna put a couple of EQs
and a compressor on the master bus and I’m gonna mix the song”. That to me
is like saying “I’m gonna start with a cup of salt and I’m gonna now make me
some soup!” Do either of those things make any sense to anybody?
When someone says to me they are going to master a track by adding some
EQ to the master bus I always go back to the question ‘why?’ And if they say
it’s because the guitars are not bright enough—well fix the guitars, work on
that. That’s not mastering, that’s just fixing a mix and for us to blur those lines
between mixing and mastering is dangerous for the art form. As a mastering
engineer I might not put any EQ on it, I might run it through a valve processor
and realize it doesn’t need any EQ at all.

George Massenburg and Mandy Parnell emphasize that there are certain
cases where the mix engineer might master their own music. George states:

There are occasions where there’s barely a budget for mixing, let alone master-
ing, so I’ll do some EQ and a little bit of dynamics on the bus. But if I run into
The Dreaded Mix Sign-Off 267

a wall I go back and change the bass level or I change the kick if it’s punching
holes, I’ll pull it back a tad. I think there is a case to be made for doing that with
sensitivity and objectivity sometimes.

Parnell also states that:

It works maybe for some kinds of electronic music and some metal which is
very aggressive. I think there is a place for it, but most of the time I’d say it
should be avoided.

Darcy Proper has practical advice for producers working on a tight budget,
where the mixing and mastering must be conducted by the same engineer:

My advice is don’t mix and master in one step. Finish your mix, print your
mix, then take that mix and master it as a separate process, not within the same
DAW session. If you do have to master it yourself, take a break, take some time
between the mixing and the mastering. It should be two separate steps.

One unique and regularly prevalent issue is that review mixes are rarely at
the loudness of commercial music, so clients and artists struggle to evalu-
ate the mix, given that it will be much quieter than mastered songs that are
heard on the radio or in the charts. In this case, it is often necessary to sup-
ply ‘listener copies’ of the mix that have been raised in loudness with some
form of compression or limiting. Listener copies made in this way cause
much confusion for artists and engineers, so it is important to have a clear
and justified method for creating the listener copies. In addition to Darcy’s
previous advice about mixing and mastering as separate steps, she adds:

If I could say one thing to every student or young mixer out there, it would be
“don’t mix through any loudness software”. It is understandable that in order
to get client approval—as many lack the imagination to understand how a mix
might sound when it is mastered—you can give them a loudness-enhanced ver-
sion, but don’t mix through the software that makes it loud. Make a good solid
mix and then right at the end put the loudness tool across it and keep it as close to
the intention of your mix as possible. That way you can give the mastering engi-
neer both the reference version that you have sent to the client and you can also
provide a finished mix that doesn’t have that extra loudness maximization on it.

Mandy Parnell also discusses the issue of mixing with limiters on the mix bus:

There is a problem with this listening copy model, that mix engineers are being
pushed to use limiters because artists and record labels want to hear loud mixes
for review. The problem with mixing into limiters is that the final mix sent for
mastering then has no relation to the listening copy, which is distorted and
noisy. But that’s what everyone has signed off from, and that is our starting
point. Many times I have to go back and ask them to put a bit of the listener
limiting back on in order to get the sound they are after, but still it’s too loud,
and I’m starting from such a wrong place to master the record. I’d like to see us
getting away from that, but it’s about education and people have been working
like this for maybe ten years now.
268 Rob Toulson

Darcy Proper also adds that any mix bus processing can actually mask
issues that will still need to be resolved at the mastering stage, whereas
they could have been treated better during mixing:

If you mix through a loudness maximizer, or any kind of multiband compres-

sion, it does things through individual frequency bins, so you could potentially
have too much 4 kHz content in your mix, which the maximizer is keeping
under control. But even though the copy the client approves sounds good, the
mix still has an issue that needs to be rectified. Build the mix first, make that a
good solid thing and then add the loudness afterwards.

Mastering Engineer as Mix Consultant

The mastering engineer acts as a quality control expert for the final stage
of a project, but can also act as an invaluable mix consultant, too. George
Massenburg explains that he would regularly seek a mastering engineer’s
opinion throughout the mixing process:

Doug Sax had a unique knack for, through mastering, moving the irrational to
the practical. For many years he was our great advisor who we would talk to in
the middle of the project, take him rough mixes and he would have no problem
telling us if it sucked, or to do nothing.

Mandy Parnell explains that it is in her interests to have as good a mix as

possible. It therefore saves her time by helping out at the mix stage, or by
requesting further modifications before mastering begins:

Mastering engineers really need to advise producers and mixers more nowa-
days. I want to get a really great mix in, so it’s in my interest to get a good mix
first than to try to work miracles.
Something I’ve started doing in the last five years, if they have the capability of
going back and mixing in the box, I will send them back to remix rather than
try to polish it in mastering. I give them a lot of direction and listen to lots of
references with them and explain what they need to try and do with the mix,
where it’s going wrong.

Darcy Proper emphasizes that the mastering engineer’s first listen is a

valuable part of the music production process, the importance of which
shouldn’t be underestimated:

We can be objective and have perspective and bring a fresh set of ears. When
I hear a song for the first time I’m hearing it as a listener would be hearing it
for the first time, and I know I’ve got it right when I go from not knowing the
song and not caring about it or having any feeling for it, to having dialed into
the emotional content to the point where I have the goosebumps and I’m emo-
tionally connected to it.
The Dreaded Mix Sign-Off 269

Mandy Parnell agrees:

My first perspective when a client comes in is the most important thing that
they are paying for. My first listen, my first response, my first notes. The feed-
back they get from that point is the most important I can give, especially if the
mix is wrong.

Mandy also emphasizes the importance of building up a relationship with

the mastering engineer and continuing to collaborate on a number of proj-
ects to consolidate ideas and working practices:

I say always attend the mastering session and build a relationship. I tell young
producers to pick a mastering engineer and stick with them for a couple of
years or projects. Use them as a sounding board so you can develop your mix-
ing and build up an understanding.

Conclusions

Clearly, the boundary between mixing and mastering has become gradu-
ally porous in recent years, with digital technologies and the availability
of home production systems creating an interesting circumstance which
allows anyone to effectively take the role of mixing or mastering engineer,
or both, at any given time in the production process. These advancements
have in some way enabled us to cut corners with the production process
and reduce the number of expert ears that might be involved in the record-
ing, mixing and mastering. The opportunity to put off decision-making to
a later stage in the production is enabled by technology and the possibility
to master from stems, for example. However, this trend actually appears
to lead to greater indecision and insecurity in artists and engineers. Mas-
tering engineers are wise and experienced listeners who can assist with
mixing as well as mastering, and it is therefore beneficial to utilize them in
any professional project. Ultimately, all studio engineers are here to assist
the artists and to enable them to most accurately achieve their creative
vision for a record, and any professional recording, mix or mastering engi-
neer will be passionate about helping the artist realize that goal, as George
Massenburg humbly concludes:

At the end of the day, it’s their record. Their picture is on the front and we are
here to serve the artist and at the pleasure of the artist—and if we don’t get
it right we have every right to be fired. I’ve tried to do everything an artist
ever asked me to do and sometimes I learned something and sometimes they
learned something. We are here to chase down their vision.
18

Conclusion
Mixing as Part-History, Part-Present
and Part-Future
Russ Hepworth-Sawyer

In the introduction to this book, we discussed our intention that this book,
and indeed the Perspectives on Music Production series as a whole, should
serve as a multi-perspectival investigation into the history, present and
future of the production of music for auditory consumption.
Many of the articles in this book explore historical and present incarna-
tions of the mixing process. For this, the concluding chapter, we felt it best
to extract and consider the future implications of these contributions. We
also felt that to indulge me in a few of my own observations, and some of
my predictions, would be useful to conclude this introductory and explor-
atory volume.

History

To our forefathers in record production, many of the job titles we com-

monly use today would either baffle or mislead, at best. The term ‘pro-
ducer’ has developed quite considerably since even the 1960s, for instance.
An electronic musician working today can today mix and release music
from their laptop in the spare bedroom without any contact with another
living soul, and it would be acceptable if they called themselves ‘produc-
ers’. What does ‘paying your dues’ look like in this world? The experience
of the ‘bedroom mix engineer’, for lack of a better term, seems a far cry
from that of those engineers who earned the mantle in decades past and
likely began their careers sweeping floors and making tea.
In fact, it seems that the titles Sound Engineer and Audio Engineer have
all but been eradicated from contemporary industry language, certainly
in pop music production parlance. Instead, we use the rather more bland
titles Recording Engineer or, more likely, simply Engineer. Alongside this,
the term Assistant has changed considerably too, not perhaps in name,
but in the work undertaken. Certainly, it has mopped up the humble Tape
Operator. Having recently worked in Abbey Road Studios on a number
of projects, their assistant engineers are a testament to how that role can
been reconceived within the studio. These assistant engineers are all, in my
opinion, extremely talented and knowledgeable, and once upon a time, that

270
Conclusion 271

level of knowledge might have only been reserved for those with the title
of engineer at a later stage in their careers. Their roles are, and continue
to be, to develop and change in tandem with technological developments.
In today’s contemporary music studio, the assistant needs to understand an
ever-widening range of equipment for those clients, such as me, who visit
Abbey Road for the odd day without the tacit knowledge or experience of
that particular room.
To further understand these changes in roles, it is worth us revisiting the
changes to the equipment over the generations. Our rich heritage in audio
engineering had its own pioneers who progressed our art forward with
each new technique and tool. As almost each new development emerged,
seized upon because of perceived benefits to the quality of the audio, new
roles would often be created. For example, the creation of magnetic tape
and its adoption within the studio environment meant that no longer were
engineers capturing the performance that would effectively serve as the
master for production (production here meaning manufacture of the listen-
er’s product). As soon as magnetic tape made an entrance, it was necessary
for a new stage, a new task, whether undertaken by the same person as the
recording, whereby the audio material needed to be transferred or ‘cut’ to
vinyl.
Similarly, as compact disc (CD) became the new format for everyone
to jump on to in the 1980s, new roles specializing in digitizing analog
audio appeared in all major studios to ensure they can translate their past
catalog masters to that medium. A new role emerged ensconced in Sony
PCM1610’s and U-Matic tape machines. The trend can be analyzed fur-
ther with the adoption of Sonic Solutions to enable the first widespread
non-linear system for CD compilation.
The continual metamorphosis of the audio engineer throughout the ages
has led us to a huge diversity of engineering duties, yet concurrently one
person could, once more as in the very beginning, fulfill all roles neces-
sary. Burgess (2014) observes that in the early days of recording the “mix
capability was limited to positioning the musicians, instructing them with
respect to dynamics and tone control, and guiding the vocalists in their
proximity to the collecting horn”. The notion of the mix being ‘complete’
at the time of the recording is paralleled in the classical conducting of
an orchestra. Terrell et al. (2014) note that an orchestral conductor has
the equivalent role of the mix engineer: “A critical control parameter is
acoustic intensity, which the conductor controls through instructions to
the musicians and the mixing engineer controls through adjustments to his
mixing interface”.
‘Mixing’ as a term in itself would not have been considered so before
the dawn of the discrete stage. ‘Balance’ would have been the more appro-
priate term. Recordists prior to any form of multichannel audio would
have considered the blend of the instrumental performance and moved the
musicians closer to the transducer to ensure the required outcome. The
producer’s role could be arguably a reinterpretation or extension of the
word ‘arranger’ as the instruments were arranged around the room. This
272 Russ Hepworth-Sawyer

was a strategy that Phil Spector continued at times even as multitrack tech-
niques were prevalent to great success.
The rise of the engineer as personality perhaps began with Joe Meek,
who made a name for himself within IBC studios during the 1950s. Meek
was perhaps one of the first engineers to have what Gary Bromham1 notes
as a ‘sonic signature’—a sound desired by artists unique to that engineer.
Bromham also coins the phrase ‘sonic trend’ to describe the marketability
or ‘brand’ of an engineer. Meek became a highly respected and sought
after engineer for achieving chart success and a unique sound that made his
records stand out. Meek quickly and inquisitively assessed and understood
the qualities that made a good song translate well over vinyl in jukeboxes
and on radio. Meek in those days would have been expected, and he him-
self relished, the need to work on each aspect of the project from recording
to the ‘mix’. Meek’s propensity to secrecy for fear of espionage of his
techniques (from fellow engineers) made him less than collegiate within
IBC. The sonic ‘brand’ of Meek, of course, even within IBC, became well
known with his own built equipment, such as the spring reverb unit made
from a fan heater. Meek also made pivotal limiting devices to improve the
sound of the audio. Despite the multitrack dream, much larger track counts
of eight or even sixteen was to be over a decade away. Joe Meek shone the
way forward with his enormous and sustaining influence on sound produc-
tion per se, shaping many of the mixing engineer’s ‘given’ techniques that
persist to this day. In many ways, Meek was one of the first superstar mix
engineers.2
Meek was also a pioneer within the UK studio scene by being one of the
first engineers to leave a major studio business to go it alone. Meek, whilst
not technically freelance as the term would later be known, did work in
his own studio in his flat in Holloway Road. It would be, again, a decade
away before engineers could start to be independent of studio employment
in the mainstream.
As multitrack recording started to become the norm for most profes-
sional recording studios in the 1960s, again new skill sets were emerging
because of the technology. Engineers, certainly in my native England at
that time, were most often employees of one of the major studios of the
day, whether that be IBC, Abbey Road, Apple Corps or later Trident, for
example. Engineering roles in those early days were more a rite of passage
that saw their training start in the cutting or transfer room. Engineers (or
even producers later in their careers) may all have started at this point. The
belief was that recording engineers ought to understand the limitation of
the medium to which they would record. It was common to move between
studios and projects within the building as an employee also. So to record
or mix any given project would not have necessarily been of concern. Art-
ists and producers would not necessarily question the ability of any engi-
neer in mixing or recording employed by the studio. This, in the most part,
was accepted practice. So to assert that there was any consistent delinea-
tion between a recording and mix engineer to any great extent, certainly in
the UK, would have been less than common.
Conclusion 273

As the 1960s progressed, the undeniable technical push The Beatles

provided for Abbey Road and its engineers would not only shape what
could be achieved by the equipment, but also by the personnel. By the late
1960s, engineers were developing a freelance culture of their own,3 and it
became more common for bands to ask for certain engineers for certain
projects, including The Beatles towards the end.
The aforementioned delineation of the sound engineer’s traditional role
was slowly starting to develop away from the norm as freelance culture
developed within the industry. Despite this, a traditional norm sustained
itself in the most part throughout the early 1970s. The working models
for engineers employed by a studio in those days, as Phill Brown (2010)
expresses in his excellent book, could mean that you could track the record
and a colleague could end up mixing it if the studio manager wanted you
working with another band. In the most part people did not mind, espe-
cially if working within the same studio complex, whether it be Abbey
Road, Trident and so on. Brown later describes how disappointing it could
be, though, to be removed from a project before completion.
Technologically, during the 1970s there was steady development. It
was, in many ways, the start of a consistent period, with the two inch
24 track becoming ubiquitous alongside the large-format mixing console
and the rise of Neve & SSL in the 1970s as the soon-to-be benchmark
standards.
The Mix Engineer as an independent title does not emerge as a fre-
quently appearing album credit for many years to come. During the 1980s
and 1990s, we see a growing practice and expectation that a specialist mix
engineer would touch your single or album, making it a hit. Bob Clear-
mountain is one such engineer that is credited as one of the first to obtain
this mantle, despite also being a successful producer and recording engi-
neer in his own right.
Many have followed and led a path for others to specialize in the area.
Names such as Chris Lord-Alge, Manny Marroquin, Serban Ghenea,
Cenzo Townshend and Robert Orton occupy just a few of the many of
today’s ‘present’ mix engineer slots.

The Present

The mix has always been borne out of the need to achieve balance: to
arrange order from chaos. Mix engineers today have, in many cases, a
more complex role than they once had. Bob Clearmountain in the 1980s
in many cases may have just received an Ampex 456 two-inch track tape
with 24 tracks on which he’d need to mix. He’d ensure (where budget and
deadline provided) that he’d have ample time mixing through the installed
console in front of him and the outboard processing around him, mindful
in the knowledge that the mix needed to be committed there and then. To
recall the mix (either by memory or by the primitive total recall systems
of the day) was many hours’ work. Similarly, due to the relatively limited
274 Russ Hepworth-Sawyer

number of tracks (compared with today’s near-unlimited capacity), pro-

ducers and musicians made necessary decisions in pre-production and the
arrangement of their work to ensure the system was used to the maxi-
mum. Bands such as Queen in the 1970s proved just how much could be
achieved.
As Justin Paterson explores in his chapter, there has been a significant
change of practice from the physical studio to that of the computer studio.
Mixing has thus a past and present that are, in some ways, completely dif-
ferent to each other. While skeuomorphic graphical designs have ensured
that the transition from hardware to software has been tempered as best
as possible, significant practices have had to alter to achieve the results.
The largest move has been, for many engineers, the move from touching
the controls of the SSL or Neve to the mouse and keyboard of their Apple
Mac. There have been many investigations as to how this has affected the
process of mixing, some of which is explored in the chapters within this
book.
As noted in Alastair Sims’s chapter, there is now much more dependence
on digital editing to hone and polish the performance prior to mixing. In
many cases, ‘order’ has to be drawn from the almost unlimited number
of sources and possibilities. Basic editing, alongside tuning, has become
commonplace, replacing honed performance in many cases. Given the
ability to make such changes, indecisiveness within the production pro-
cess has also been alluded to in earlier chapters. Fellow mastering engineer
Mandy Parnell, quoted within Rob Toulson’s chapter, confirms the attitude
whereby the mix is not even totally completed because it can even come
in as stems to her mastering studio, thus providing opportunity for further
refinement.
Mix engineering has, due to the Internet and working practices, become
a remote art. Robert Orton explained that much of the work he receives
is directly from the artist’s management or the label (Hepworth-Sawyer
and Golding, 2010). As such, the mix engineer can be detached from the
process of production, whereas once he or she would have occupied a chair
within the same room as the engineer. The audio engineer’s role has again
changed due to onset of technology. It is understood that labels send a mix
to multiple mix engineers to get them to compete with each other, or so
that they can select the best mixes.
Mixing is an art form that has enjoyed greater interest in the past
decade, expanding in tandem with the number of specialist mix engineers.
As noted by Alex Krotz in his interview chapter “the big engineers that
people actually think about . . . for the most part . . . are mix engineers”. In
the 1970s and 1980s, it was important who the producer and the recording
engineer (probably just the engineer) were, but Krotz notes, it’s all about
the mixer and the producer. Krotz also importantly alludes to the fact that
the role of the mix engineer is likely to be yet further entrenched as label
budgets decrease and more artists work on Pro Tools at home.
With the propensity of plug-ins for mixing available, Dean Nelson notes
that potential mixers “can become sidetracked by the latest . . . plug in, or
Conclusion 275

update”. Nelson also shares the frustration felt when he too falls into the
trap of the distracting plug-in search. Engineers of a previous generation
used the equipment available to them on the whole: the EQ within the
desk, the few compressors in the rack and the plate reverb or echo cham-
ber. Records were made and achieved. In many ways innovation, and tech-
nological advantage, has slowed the music creation process.
The outcome or expectation of standard stereo mixing remains rel-
atively unchanged to that of few decades before, despite key techno-
logical changes. Formats, however, have come and gone. Digital Audio
Tape (DAT) once used to deliver two-track masters after open reel tape
became suddenly considered ‘old school’. CD-R later became an option
for many as the players and media became more reliable and widespread.
Today, mixes are delivered by audio file most often over the Internet.
Two major areas of change have been that of surround sound mixing and
high-resolution audio. Surround sound mixing has been on the agenda
ever since Quadraphonic in the 1970s. Despite enjoying huge acceptance
within the film community, encouraging music consumers to adopt sur-
round sound has been difficult.4 This is due to a whole raft of issues,
but mostly with the playback. Consumers’ living rooms were not always
of an ample size and optimum shape to perfectly situate five full-range
monitors based on ITU standards. Then, of course, there’s the expense
of this. Surround sound for music was not easily possible at the desired
resolution until Super Audio Compact Disc (SACD), which was adopted
slowly due to cost of both the machine and the discs.
Since the launch of the SACD into the mainstream, there has been a
slow progression towards listening to music on headphones, due to the
prevalence of the mp3 player and most significantly the iPod. This has
meant that mixing has never been so far removed from the consumer main-
stream possibility of surround sound, as headphones could not deliver true
5.1 surround.
As the iPod made significant changes, alongside the iTunes plat-
form, engineers had to ensure their mixes and masters would translate
both to the still-popular CD and also to the highly data-compressed
mp3. Convenience had won over quality. While the humble CD has
stuck in there, we’re now faced with many format options when con-
sidering buying a new release. The CD may remain (although this for-
mat is often being missed off the checklist with current releases in
my studio), mp3 will be a potential upload to an aggregator, but more
commonly some form of high-definition file, most likely Mastered for
iTunes (MFiT), will be uploaded at 96 kHz/24 bit, which is discussed
more a little later.
However, the format to ensure is mentioned at this juncture is the hum-
ble LP, often released even when CD is not. Vinyl has made a significant
comeback in the past few years and whilst not of immediate interest to
the mix engineer, there are a number of reasons that the future of mixing
might permit different working methods. The present has become some-
what uncertain as to what the future will hold.
276 Russ Hepworth-Sawyer

Part-Future

In the recent past, one might be able to argue that there has been a techno-
logical slowdown when it comes to music production development commer-
cially. Computing power has become ample for large-scale, high-resolution,
multitrack projects right from a notebook computer. On the face of it, few
game-changing developments are commercially available for mixing.
Recent developments, however, do show signs of the future. Touch-
screen technology, currently being championed by the Slate Raven, starts
to demonstrate that mixing by mouse may become less prevalent and that
there could be a return to console-style mixing. The relative cost of mix-
ing using a touch surface such as the Raven is significantly lower than an
Avid C|24 for the same Pro Tools functionality. It is likely that this area
may develop further, meaning that more engineers will stop sitting at right
angles to the studio’s SSL or Neve that only has two channels up panned
hard left and right.
The main game changer is highlighted within this book. Joshua Reiss’
work at Queen Mary University will slowly pave the way to true auto-
mation of many of the functions of mixing. It is unlikely that automated
mixing using intelligent systems will ever take away the gloss an accom-
plished mix engineer can apply, but it is expected that a number of the
routine editing functions and application of processing on the channel strip
could be automated. Not automated by selecting just the Logic Pro chan-
nel preset, but actually the system appreciating what the sound is, how it
sounds and responding as though you had made the decisions yourself.
This could save considerable time and leave more time for mix refinement
by the engineer. As this book was going to press, iZotope announced the
development of Neutron, which starts to offer mix automation based on
the material played into it. It is anticipated that these intelligent system
developments, as with Reiss’ initial involvement with LandR.com will
slowly become more commonplace in the future of mixing music.
LandR currently only offers standard resolution masters at a time when
the industry has the option to move to higher resolution. One of the major
changes, intertwined with the development of technology, or the lowering
cost of hard drives, will be a common system resolution above current
CD/PCM standards of 44.1 kHz/16 bit. Many professionals record at 24
bit, but many have yet to make the move permanently to 96 kHz or above.
Given MFiT, HDtracks.com and devices such as the PonoPlayer, there
is a slow, but certain, move back to high fidelity playback. This has also
been given the shove to the forefront by the masses of people returning (or
young people flocking) to the turntable and vinyl.
While technically a mastering engineer’s issue, equal loudness stan-
dards are being adhered to in the broadcast industry much faster than ever
thought would be the case. EBU’s R-128 standard has been widely adopted
and is playing its part in broadcast. Similar principles are being employed,
but for the playback of material within software, whether that be a vol-
ume-levelling system within iTunes or now YouTube. Mastering engineer
Conclusion 277

Ian Shepherd’s post on YouTube’s equal loudness system5 is rather import-

ant alongside high-definition audio in predicting a change in the mix engi-
neer’s practice. Loudness wars could be a real thing of the past, paving
the way for mix engineers, in time, to choose to employ higher dynamic
ranges as they wish.
The future of mix engineering practice cannot be predicted as an island
alone. As such, recordists will need to start increasing their resolutions
to ensure they can provide the higher sample rates for the mix engineers,
as the market, post-mastering, will demand that high-resolution material
is deliverable. For example, there’s likely to be a real ‘hole’ should the
high-resolution audio marketplace take off. All the mixes made to ½" open
reel tape will be of a high definition, of sorts, and can be recaptured for
remastering at 96 kHz or higher. However, those mixes made to DAT tape
will be restricted in the most part to 44.1 kHz/16 bit (apart from later 24
bit enabled machines). There’s a perceived hole in the catalog of potential
high definition throughout the mid-1980s and 1990s. Of course, it should
be noted that the mixes are of high quality even at standard CD resolution
and will continue to be enjoyed as such. However, moving forward, resolu-
tion ought to increase. It could be argued that we, as an audio engineering
industry, have the possibility to put the quality back into the music: to put
the high fidelity back into hi-fi.

Notes
1 Gary Bromham notes ‘sonic trends’ within his chapter for this book and expands this to
the ‘sonic signature’, which is related in principle to ‘watermarking’ as discussed in
Hepworth-Sawyer and Golding (2010).
2 It must be noted that Joe Meek was much more than just ‘a mix engineer’. Meek was per-
haps the first superstar producer.
3 Sir George Martin had already made moves away from EMI as a staff employee, acknowl-
edging his potential as a freelance producer.
4 We acknowledge that we’d have wished for more representation of this within the book, but
the contributions were not forthcoming.
5 Production Advice—http://productionadvice.co.uk/youtube-loudness/ accessed 29/04/2016
14:16.

Bibliography
Brown, P. (2010). Are We Still Rolling?: Studios, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll—One Man’s Jour-
ney Recording Classic Albums. n.p.: Tape Op Books.
Burgess, R.J. (2014). The History of Music Production. Oxford, Oxford University Press.
Clarke, E., Cook, N., Leech-Wilkinson, D. and Rink, J., eds. (2009). The Cambridge Compan-
ion to Recorded Music. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Cleveland, B. (2015). Joe Meek’s Bold Techniques. Nashville: ElevenEleven Publishing.
Day, T. (2000). A Century of Recorded Music, Listening to Musical History. London: Yale
University Press.
Emerick, G. and Massey. H. (2006). Here, There & Everywhere: My Life Recording The Beat-
les. New York: Gotham Press.
Hepworth-Sawyer, R. and Golding, C. (2010). What Is Music Production? Boston, MA: Focal
Press.
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Hodgson, J. (2010). Understanding Records: A Field Guide to Recording Practice. New York:
Continuum Books.
Horning, S. Schmidt (2013). Chasing Sound: Technology, Culture & the Art of Studio Recording
from Edison to the LP. Baltimore, MD: John Hopkins University Press.
Kealy, E.R. (1979). From Craft to Art: The Case of Sound Mixers and Popular Music. Work
and Occupations 6 (1): 3–29.
Millard, A. (2005). America on Record: A History of Recorded Sound, Second edition. Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press.
Shepherd, I. (2016). YouTube Just Put the Final Nail in the Loudness War’s Coffin. Available
at: http://productionadvice.co.uk/youtube-loudness/ [Accessed: 29 April 2016, 14:16].
Terrell, M., Simpson A. and Sandler, M. (2014). The Mathematics of Mixing. Journal of the
Audio Engineering Society 62 (1/2): 4–13.
Index

Note: Italicized page numbers indicate a figure on the corresponding page. Page numbers
in bold indicate a table on the corresponding page.

2D mixing-interface paradigms 90 Art of Recording, The (Moylan) 201

3D real-time visualization 90 Art of Record Production, The (Théberge)
5Rhythyms dance process 20 249
808-style kicks 177 – 8 Atlantic Records Rhythm and Blues sound
202
Ableton Live environment 166 – 7 audio editing/in: changes in 101; concerns
academia and knowledge flow: over 100 – 1; defined 95; discovering
apprenticeships 247 – 8; emulation role of 96–7; equipment importance
vs. innovation 252 – 3; introduction 101 – 2; examples of 97 – 100, 97 – 100;
6, 245 – 7; language of mixing 254; expected amount of 105; future of
listening skills 249 – 50; Music 113; hearing audio editing 105 – 13,
Production, as academic topic 2; sonic 106, 108 – 12; hiring editing engineers
trends 251 – 2; work practices 248 – 9 101; introduction 94 – 5; main elements
acoustic guitar mixing 64, 69 – 70 102 – 3; mixing and 103 – 5; production
actor-network theory (ANT) 87 vs. post-production 104; record
adaptive mixing and intelligent systems production 95 – 103; scope of time 96;
238 – 40 static scenes 226 – 7; tasks with 95;
adaptive thresholds 231 – 2 technical concerns 97; ‘telltale’ signs on
ad lib track in hip hop 181 instruments 107 – 13, 108 – 12; ‘telltale’
ADSR shaping 127, 128 – 9, 132 sonic artifacts 105 – 7, 106; terminology
aesthetics within mixing 199 – 204 113; of Top-40 songs 96
Afrika Bambaata 177 Audio Engineers 270
aggregate texture of sound 41 – 4, 42, 43 audio ‘gain rendering’ 73
air tracks in vocal mixing 184 Audio Production and Critical Listening-
Ali, Derek 170, 180, 185 Technical Ear Training (Corey) 250
Ampex 200 tape recorder 9 audio signal processing 231 – 4
AMS DMX 15 – 80 digital delay Auditory Horizon of the mix 220
208 auditory response: conclusion 223 – 4;
analog recording studio 5 introduction 216 – 17; past-tense auditory
analog-to-digital convertors 127 narratives 217 – 18; psychoacoustic
answer track in rap music 181 profiles 221 – 2; records, as models of
Antares Autotune 84, 85, 104 hearing 222 – 3; soundbox 218 – 21
Any Sound You Can Imagine (Théberge) auditory scene analysis 56
251 auteurism in music production 78 – 9
Apple Logic Pro X 82 automatic gain handling 229
apprenticeships 247 – 8 automatic panners 230
artistic exemplar 12 – 13 Automation for the People (White) 227

279
280 Index

automation in mixing: future direction curating musical material 206

of 241; impact of 10; introduction 7; Curnow, Ian 63
pushes 129 Curtis, Ian 209

background vocals 65 – 6, 184 – 5 D/A A/D conversion process 127

Badiou, Alain 188, 189 Dada provocation 9
Barthet, Mathieu 254 Dark Side of the Moon (Pink Floyd)
bass mixing 70, 176 – 80 218 – 20
beat slicing 174 D-Box musical instrument 253
Beck (singer) 138 – 9 De Bono, Edward 3
bedroom producers 151 decision-making in mastering the mix
Being and Event (Badiou) 188 258 – 61
Belliveau, Pierre 154, 155, 157, 162 delay in intelligent systems 237
black-box genetic optimization strategy Deleuze, Gilles 188
238 diaphragm, condenser 69
Blake, Tchad 135 Dibben, Nicola 55
Bottom-Up mixing principle 4, 62 – 3 digital audio effects 228, 228 – 9
Bottrell, Bill 207 Digital Audio Tape (DAT) 275, 277
Bourbon, Andrew 246, 252 digital audio workstation (DAW):
Bowie, David 2, 17 academic research practices 245;
Bratley, Craig 156, 159, 161, 165, decision-making and 260; embedding
167 in 87; hip hop music 172, 174; ‘in
Brauer, Michael 87 the box’ (ITB) mixing 77 – 9, 81 – 2,
Bromham, Gary 272 86; introduction 4; mediation in 88;
Brown, Lee 202 pre-production and 116, 120; ‘sample
Brown, Phill 203, 273 replace’ function on 223; saved state
Buck 65 (hip hop artist) 138 – 9 89; top-down mixing 63; see also
Bull, Rick 153 – 7, 159, 161 – 4, Pro Tools
167 – 9 digital compressor/maximizer 72 – 3, 73
direct injection (D.I.) box 64, 70
Cage, John 9, 79 Direct Note Access 10
“Capture-Arrangement-Performance” distance location 43
(CAP) model 200 distortion mixing 135, 136
Carr, Paul 21 Dowd, Tom 202
chaos theory 14 Drake, Nick 217
Chris Lord-Alge mixing course 252 Driscoll, Jerry 219
Chynces, Ryan 154, 156, 158, 160, 162, drum mixing, live or programmed
163, 165 – 8 70 – 2
Cinematic Orchestra 162 DSP-based processes 85
Clearmountain, Bob 249, 273 dynamic envelope 37
Cole, Andy 155, 156, 158, 160 – 2, 165 – 6, dynamic microphone 69
168 dynamic range compression 236 – 7
comb filtering 233
compact discs (CDs) 271, 275, 277 ear connection points 137 – 8
compressor preferences 127, 128 Edison, Thomas 9
constrained control rules 232 – 3 editing phase in pre-production
Contemporary Christian music 159 120
Cope, David 86 – 7 ElasticAudio 106, 107
Corey, Jason 250 electric guitar mixing 69 – 70
crate digging 175 electronic music mixing: artists, input
creative abuse category 84 by 163 – 6; differences and similarities
cross-adaptive processing 229 with 162 – 3; electronic dance genres
Index 281

161 – 2; general tools for 166 – 7; Hannett, Martin 208 – 9

indispensable tools for 167 – 8; hard mix 120
introduction 153; learning to 155 – 6; hardware-based mix engineers 83 – 4
mixing, defined 153 – 5; production harmony mixing 65 – 6, 134
process 156 – 61; summary and Harrison, George 218
conclusion 168 – 9 hearing aid frequency responses 238
EMI compressor 128, 132 – 3 hearing mixes: audio editing 105 – 13, 106,
Eminem 171 108 – 12; dimension of mix 36 – 7; with
emotional content in mixing 148 – 9 knowledge and experience 51; listening
emulation in academia 252 – 3 without 35 – 6; records, as models of
enabling concepts in intelligent systems hearing 222 – 3; see also listening to
227 – 34, 228, 230 mixes
Eno, Brian 3, 16 – 18, 159, 252 – 3 Helmholtz, Hermann von 13
equalizer/equalization: intelligent systems high end frequency in vocal mix 183
234 – 6, 235; kick track 71; listening to high-pass filter (HPF) 64, 68, 69
mixes 38 – 40, 39, 41; snare equalization hip hop music mixing: background
71; top-down mixing 68; while vocals 184 – 5; conclusion 185; crafting
beginning the mix 131 instrumental 172 – 80; drums and bass
export/bounce 180 176 – 80; groove and grind 175 – 6;
export procedure 74, 74 – 6, 75 introduction 5, 170 – 1; noise removal
175 – 7; overview 171 – 2; sampling
fade artifact 109, 111, 113 music 173 – 4; sine wave-based kicks
faders in intelligent systems 234 177 – 8; time stretching and pitch 174;
FAST project 254 vocal mixing 180 – 5
Fazekas, George 246 historical context of mixing music 8 – 11,
FlexTime 106, 107 270 – 3
France, Phil 154, 156 – 8, 160, 162 – 4, 167 Hodgson, Jay 4, 114
From Demo to Delivery: The Process of Hole, Max 203
Production (Hepworth-Sawyer) 1 – 7 hook track in rap music 181
functional communication about sound 29 Horizontal Plane of the mix 220
Horizontal Span of the mix 220
Gabriel, Peter 246 human – computer interface (HCI) 78
Gadamer, Hans-Georg 84 humanizing grooves 175
gear envy 83 – 4 hyper editing notion 79
Geco MIDI app 90
genre-based mix types 205 idea generation 116 – 17
Glass, Philip 221 idiolect in mixing 207 – 9
Gödel, Kurt Friedrich 11 – 12 IIR filters 232
Golden Ears (Moulton) 30 illusion in mixing music 13
Great British Recording Studios, The imbalance in mixing music 13 – 14
(Massey) 68 import procedure 74, 74 – 6, 75
Green, Tee 63 incompleteness in mixing music 11 – 12
GRM plugins 138 individual lines of sound 38 – 40, 39, 41
Grohl, Dave 56, 58 innovation in academia 252 – 3
groove and grind 175 – 6 instrumental mixing 171, 182 – 3
Guattari, Felix 188 intelligent systems: adaptive and intuitive
GUI (graphic user interface) 82 – 3, 250 mixing 238 – 40; adaptive thresholds
guidelines in mixing music 15 231 – 2; audio signal processing 231 – 4;
Guitar Hero 90 conclusions 241 – 2, 255; constrained
control rules 232 – 3; current/future
Haber, Carl 8 research directions 240 – 1; delay,
Hall, Edward 53 – 5 polarity and interference 237; digital
282 Index

audio effects 228, 228 – 9; dynamic with intention 32 – 4; introduction

range compression 236 – 7; enabling 24; learning to listen 28 – 9; levels of
concepts 227 – 34, 228, 230; equalization perspective 49 – 50; personal nature of
234 – 6, 235; faders 234; introduction 6, 27 – 8; process of 24 – 7, 26; surround
226 – 7, 227; new technologies 254 – 5; sound 44 – 9, 45, 46, 47, 48; without
psychoacoustic studies 233 – 4; recent expectations 34 – 5; without hearing
developments 234 – 8, 235; reference 35 – 6; see also hearing mixes
signals 231 – 2; reverb 237 – 8; stereo live acoustic performances 9
processing 236 ‘liveness’ role 169
Intel RealSense 90 loudness value 39 – 40
intention in listening 32 – 4 low end frequency in vocal mix
interface with ‘in the box’ (ITB) mixing 182 – 3
81 – 4, 82 low-pass filter (LPF) 67, 68
interference in intelligent systems 237
interpersonal distance perception 56 MacLeod, Steve 217
‘in the box’ (ITB) mixing: electronic macrodynamic strategy in vocal mixing
music mixing 169; future of 89 – 90; 182
interface 81 – 4, 82; introduction 77 – 8; macro editing 80
mixMacros 86 – 8, 88; overlaps 78 – 81; main lead vocal 63
tools 84 – 6 Manual (How to Have a Number One the
intuitive mixing and intelligent systems Easy Way), The (Cauty, Drummond) 62
238 – 40 manual restoration 89
iZotope’s RX5 software editor 10 Marien, Bruce 132
Marshall, Adam 154, 155 – 6, 160, 161,
Jay Z 180 164, 167 – 8
JustBlaze 170 – 1 Martin, George 2
Martin, Max 116
keyboard mixing 66 – 8 Mason, Nick 219
kick drum: hip hop music 172, 176 – 80; Massenburg, George 259, 265, 266,
mixing for markets 149; sine wave- 268 – 9
based kicks 177 – 8; track 70 – 1 Massey, Howard 68
Krotz, Alex 274 master bus compression 72 – 3, 73
Mastered for iTunes (MFiT) 275
Lamar, Kendrick 175, 180 master fader 63
language of mixing 254 mastering-orientated effect chains 80
Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory 8 mastering the mix: comparison concerns
lead vocals 64 – 5, 181 – 2, 232 261 – 3; conclusions 269; decision-
Led Zeppelin 104, 216, 221 making 258 – 61; introduction 6,
Lennon, John 218 257 – 8; as mix consultant 268 – 9;
Levine, Larry 203 single-process mastering 265 – 8;
Lewis, Leona 58 stem creation 263 – 5
limitations in mixing music 14 – 15 McCartney, Paul 38, 218
limiters on mix bus 267 McCormick, Tim 250
Linn, Roger 176 McDSP’s Revolver 136
listener copies 267 McPherson, Andrew 253
listening skills 249 – 50 mediation and mixing 204 – 9
listening to mixes: aids for 29 – 30; Meek, Joe 272
all sources as equal 38 – 40, 39, 41; Mellotron pad patch 118
beginning to hear 30 – 2, 31, 32; Melodyne Editor 10
conclusion 50 – 1; details within mentoring role 125
individual sounds 37 – 8; hearing Mercury, Freddie 59 – 60
dimension of mix 36 – 7; how to 27; metaphysmix edition 196 – 8
Index 283

Meyrowitz, Joshua 56 mix is/the mix is not, the: agenda with

microdynamic strategy in vocal mixing 191; introduction 188 – 91; metaphysmix
182 edition 196 – 8; production process
micro editing 80 193 – 6; ukulele example 191 – 3
microphones: choices in 71 – 2, 115; mixMacros 86 – 8, 88
dynamic microphone 69; mixer 229 mix template file 74, 74 – 6, 75
MIDI track 74, 86, 176 Moog synthesizer 37
midrange frequency in vocal mix 183 Moore, Allan F. 42
MIMO (multi-input/multi-output) effect Mortimer, Tony 63
229 Moulton, Dave 30
Minogue, Kylie 55 Moylan, William 3, 62, 250
mix consultant 268 – 9 muddiness in a mix 182
mix engineers: hardware-based mix multi-bus compression technique 87
engineers 83 – 4; hiring editing engineers multichannel/multitrack signals 227
101; historical role 273; introduction 6; multitrack digital audio effects 229 – 31,
role of 123 – 5 230
mixing in the box see ‘in the box’ (ITB) multitrack intelligent audio signal
mixing processing 231 – 4
mixing music: beginning of the mix musical balance 38 – 40, 39, 41
125 – 30; creative experimentation Music Production, as academic topic 2
138 – 9; defined 153 – 5; future of 276 – 7;
history of 270 – 3; instrumental mixing near-death experiences (NDEs) 11, 12
171, 182 – 3; introduction 1 – 7, 122 – 5; Nelson, Dean 274
language of 254; present state of 273 – 5; Neubäcker, Peter 10
stating the mix 130 – 2; tone and texture neutrality in mixing 201
in 132 – 8 Nichols, Roger 248 – 9
mixing music, exploring potential: Noah ‘40’ Shebib 173 – 4
artistic exemplar 12 – 13; calculus noise removal 175 – 7
insight 19; chance events 16; chaos non-linear recording/editing 79 – 80
theory 14; conclusion 21; guidelines ‘normative’ stereo mixes 205
15; historical context 8 – 11; numerology and mixing music 20 – 1
illusion in 13; imbalance in 13 – 14;
incompleteness 11 – 12; introduction objectivity in mixing 201
8; limitations in 14 – 15; micro/macro Oblique Strategies (Eno) 3
focus 18 – 19; numerology 20 – 1; ‘Oblique Strategies’ record cards 16 – 18
‘Oblique Strategies’ record cards off-the-cuff lyrics 181
16 – 18; platonic mix 11; possibilities Open Multitrack Testbed 238
through 19 – 20; random juxtaposition orchestra mixing 68
16; ‘thinking hats’ model 15 – 16 organic integrity 87
mixing music, for markets: ‘as you go’ Orton, Robert 274
142 – 3; differences in 141; emotional Ott, Chris 209
content 148 – 9; examples of 149 – 50; out-of-phase audio 109
future of 150 – 2; introduction 140 – 1; overlaps with ‘in the box’ (ITB) mixing
kick drum start 145 – 6; learning to 78 – 81
141 – 2; mix notes 143 – 4; non-specialists
141; particular talents 142; processing panning in mixing 137, 157
vocal tracks 150; process of 145 – 8; para-proxemics notion 55 – 6, 57
revisions 143 – 5; soloing elements Pardo, Bryan 239
145 – 6; sonic mixing 151 – 2; starting Parmenides (Plato) 189, 190
mix 145; tools and technique changes Parnell, Mandy 258, 262 – 3, 266 – 9
152; vocals-first mixing 147 – 8 past-tense auditory narratives 217 – 18
Mixing with Your Mind (Stavrou) 207 patching with Pro Tools software 128
284 Index

Paterson, Justin 274 real-time multitrack intelligent audio

Paul, Les 9 – 10, 12 signal processing 231 – 4
Pérez-García, David 14 re-amping plug-ins 69
performance environment (PPE) 49 Record Club series 138
personic environment 53 record production, audio editing/in 95 – 103
phantom images 43, 43, 46, 47 – 8 records, as models of hearing 222 – 3
phonographic staging 55 reference signals 231 – 2
piano mixing 66 – 8 Reiss, Joshua 89, 276
Pink Floyd 218 – 19 Resolution magazine 2
pitch height of sound 53 retina tracking 90
pitch in hip hop mixing 174 reverb mixing 135, 184, 208, 237 – 8
Plant, Robert 216, 221 revisions in mixing 143 – 5
platonic mix 11 rhetoric of mixing: aesthetics within
Platt, Tony 246 199 – 201; conclusion 210; development
plugins for mixing 135, 138 of mixing aesthetics 201 – 4; idiolect
po (random juxtaposition) 16 in mixing 207 – 9; introduction 199;
polarity in intelligent systems 237 mediation and 204 – 9
post-production audio editing/in 104 rhythm in mixing 137
post-tracking song analysis 119 Rich, Christian 173
Pred, Noah 154, 155, 158, 160, 163, Roland Dimension D 64 – 5, 70, 72
164 – 6 Romanowski, Michael 260 – 1, 264, 266
Prent, Ronald 258 – 9, 260 – 2, 264 – 5 Roth, Gabriel 20
pre-production: administrative tasks rough mix 120, 143
120 – 1; bulk-of-the-song development Rumsey, Francis 56, 247, 250
117 – 19; defined 115 – 16; editing Rverb by Waves 136
phase 120; idea generation 116 – 17;
introduction 4, 114 – 15; post-tracking SAFE project 254
song analysis 119; process 116 – 21; ‘sample replace’ function on DAW 223
session set-up 117; vocal capture sampling music 173 – 4
119 – 20 SansAmp 135
Prince (pop artist) 2 Schmidt, Peter 16 – 18
production process: approach to 156 – 61; Schoepe, Zenon 2
audio editing/in 104; introduction Scott, Ken 246
1; post-production audio editing/in Scott de Martinville, Édouard-Léon 8
104; post-production vs. 104; record Sel-Sync (Selective Synchronous)
production 95 – 103 recording 9 – 10
Proper, Darcy 259 – 60, 262, 264, 266 – 8 session set-up 117
Pro Tools: audio editing/in 97; introduction short-term memory (STM) 83
4; mix template file 74, 74 – 6, 75; side-chain feature 179
patching with 128; popularity of 123; signing-off the mix 258 – 61
top-down mixing 63 Sims, Alastair 4, 94 – 5, 274
proximic interaction 53 – 60, 54, 57 sine wave-based kicks 177 – 8
Proximity Plane of the mix 220 single-lead track 66
psychoacoustic profiles 221 – 2 single-point perspectival painting 222
psychoacoustic studies 233 – 4 single-process mastering 265 – 8
PWL From the Factory Floor (Harding) 62 Six Thinking Hats (De Bono) 3
skeuomorphic graphical designs 274
quantization process 107 Slate Digital 251
Queen (pop group) 59 snare equalization 71
Snyder, Ross 9 – 10
random juxtaposition 16 SocialEQ app 239
reality of illusion 90 social theory 87
Index 285

song pad 63 – 4 tone in mixing music 132 – 8

song-writing demo 102 tools for ‘in the box’ (ITB) mixing 84 – 6
sonic artifacts 105 – 7, 106 Toop, David 159
sonic mixing: electronic music 151 – 2, top-down mixing: acoustic guitar
157; history of 171; landscape 65; accompaniment 64; bass 70; conclusion
spacialization 3, 53 – 60, 54, 57; trends in 73 – 4; double-tracked lead 65 – 6;
academia 251 – 2 drums, live or programmed 70 – 2;
sonic signature 87 guitars, acoustic and electric 69 – 70;
Sound and Recording (Rumsey, introduction 62 – 3; lead vocals 64 – 5;
McCormick) 250 main lead vocal 63; master bus
soundbox 53, 218 – 21 compression 72 – 3, 73; mix template
Sound Engineers 270 file 74, 74 – 6, 75; other keyboards and
Sound on Sound magazine 227 orchestra 68; piano/keyboard mixing
Sound on Sound recording 9 66 – 8; song pad or guitar 63 – 4; stereo
Sound Radix 10, 80 balancing and tweaks 72
sounds: aggregate texture 38 – 44 41, 39, Torry, Clare 219
42, 43; details within individual sounds Toulson, Rob 274
37 – 8; functional communication about Townsend, Devin 116, 117 – 18
29; individual lines 38 – 40, 39, 41; pitch Train, TJ 154, 156, 159, 160, 162, 164,
height of 53; surround sound 44 – 9, 45, 167 – 8
46, 47, 48; timbre 40, 50, 206; timbre of Turing, Alan 12
40; X-Y graph for 31, 32
sound-source width 56 UAD-powered plug-ins 166 – 7
sound stage 44 – 9, 45, 46, 47, 48 Understanding and Crafting the Mix
Sound Toys’ Decapitator 178 (Moylan) 30, 250
spatial movement 60, 204 – 5 Universal Audio 251
Spector, Phil 203, 272 universal poetic 217
SSL G-Series console 4, 63 University College London 11
Starr, Ringo 218 Unknown Pleasures (Hannett) 209
Steiner, Armin 202 user-innovation model 85
stem creation 263 – 5
stem processing 126 – 7 Vai, Steve 117
Stent, Mark ‘Spike’ 89 Van Gelder, Rudy 86
stereo balancing 72 VCA groups 76
stereo processing 236 vision and sound-box placement 55
Super Audio Compact Disc (SACD) 275 vocal capture 119 – 20
Surfer EQ plug-in 10 Vocalign 106
surround sound 44 – 9, 45, 46, 47, 48 vocal mixing: air tracks 184; background
Swedien, Bruce 202 – 3 vocals 65 – 6, 184 – 5; consistency in
synthesizer timbre 31 182; hip hop music 180 – 5; instrumental
balance 182 – 3; lead vocals 181 – 2;
‘telltale’ signs on instruments 107 – 13, processing tracks 150; types of tracks
108 – 12 181
‘telltale’ sonic artifacts 105 – 7, 106 vocal reverb 64, 66
texture in mixing music 132 – 8 vocals-first mixing 147 – 8
Théberge, Paul 245, 249, 251 Voice Memo app 223
‘thinking hats’ model 15 – 16
Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Walsh, Peter 206
Schizophrenia, A (Deleuze, Guattari) Watts, Pete 219
188, 195, 196 waveform visualizations 79 – 80
timbre of sound 40, 50, 206 Waves Audio 251
time stretching in hip hop mixing 174 Waves NLS (Non- Linear Summer) 133
286 Index

Waves’ Vocal Rider 182 X-Form-like processing 106,

Webber, John 80 107
Weinreich, Dennis 246, 249 X-Y graph for sound 31, 32
Weiss, Matthew 180
West, Kanye 177 Young Guru 180
Williams, Alan 253
Wolpe, Stefan 9 Zagorski-Thomas, Simon 65
work practices in academia 248 – 9 Zappi, Victor 253