{"id":812,"date":"2011-07-04T01:40:58","date_gmt":"2011-07-04T01:40:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/arpjournal.com\/?p=812"},"modified":"2011-10-26T21:14:51","modified_gmt":"2011-10-26T21:14:51","slug":"interview-with-nick-blagona","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/interview-with-nick-blagona\/","title":{"rendered":"Interview with Nick Blagona"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/strong>Nick Blagona is an extraordinary engineer\/producer with an impressive list of credits. If it were the practice of the music industry to mention the technicians who worked recording sessions in the 1960s, his list of credits would be even longer. In the following interview, Nick provides insight into a life dedicated to music and technology. Onwards, from his first four-track analog tape session with Tom Jones, to when he assumed ownership, and took over the role of chief engineer, at Le Studio in Quebec, Nick\u2019s career has evolved alongside the technological changes of the recording industry. Throughout this interview, Nick unpacks an implicit understanding of sound engineering and music production garnered from professional experiences in Britain, Canada, and the United States. His stories reveal how a natural affinity with sound and music has allowed him to make great recordings by adapting engineering\/production processes in response to the demands of artistic diversity, communication media, and industrial change. He describes insight gained from producers Tom Dowd, Phil Ramone and Roy Thomas Baker, and from working with the likes of Deep Purple, Nazareth, Cat Stevens, The Bee Gees, and The Police. <\/em><\/p>\n

These days, as the chief engineer at Jukasa Studios in Caledonia, Ontario, Nick is supervising the creation of a film audio post-production studio. He recently finished Canadian progressive metal band Protest the Hero\u2019s new album Scurrilous (2011), mixing the tracks on his instrument of choice, a Solid State Logic 8072 G\/G+ console. Though considered a consummate mix engineer by most who have worked with him, Nick follows a holistic understanding of record making, and he explains much of that understanding below. Canadian rock bands such as April Wine, Kim Mitchell, The Tea Party, and Alexis On Fire have all benefitted from Nick\u2019s unusual approach.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

During the transcription process a final, and somewhat humorous thought occurred to me: Nick Blagona has necessarily forgotten more about the landscape of sound engineering than most people will learn in a lifetime, and if the goal of this Q&A was to gain a better understanding of his tacit knowledge, more interviews are needed to unpack almost half a century of professional experience.<\/em><\/p>\n

How do you account for the ease with which you combine sound and technology?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: As far back as I can remember I\u2019ve always had sound in my head. My parents gave me a crystal radio set at the age of six because they noticed I was always interested in the radio. When I first heard a radio station it was in the middle of winter. I got it for Christmas. I heard a radio station from Chicago and I remember, to this day, the music was Count Basie. I even remember the sound of the band. When I think about the old bands, any record or any genre, I hear and see the sound in my head. And when I work with sound my body produces as a gut reaction. I\u2019ve always had that response to music. It\u2019s like a child prodigy playing piano instinctually.<\/p>\n

Like playing an instrument by ear?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes. That\u2019s what it came to mean to me. When I took up the bass as a kid, I already heard the sound of the band. Even to this day when I start a project I can hear the final product.<\/p>\n

What kind of music were you playing?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: R&B. We were called TJ & the Germs; an all white band with a black singer. I had a Silvertone bass from Simpsons bought with money from a summer job with my father.
\nBut, I\u2019ve always had that feeling inside me of making records and every time I saw a movie like The Girl Can\u2019t Help It or High School Confidential or one of those Rock\u2019n\u2019Roll movies from the 50s \u2013 where they\u2019d show people in the recording studio \u2013 I always thought, \u201cHow did they get that sound?\u201d Or when I watched the Perry Como Show I thought, \u201cThat vocal sound is incredible!\u201d I found out that it was a boom mic and I wondered, \u201cHow the hell can they get that fat sound?\u201d<\/p>\n

Are you talking about the Crooners?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah, and all the great TV shows in the 50s had great audio. So the sound of it always intrigued me. When I got into making my own records in the basement with a Heathkit tape recorder…<\/p>\n

Heathkit?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Heathkit was a mail order company that sold electronics kits you\u2019d assemble yourself. They were an American company with a warehouse up in Oakville, Ontario. One day I was looking in their catalog \u2013 because I was already a Hamm radio owner and operator \u2013 and I saw this tape recorder that really intrigued me. I bought it and the parts came in a box with instructions. I already had a soldering iron from the time I built my radio. So I used that to build a mono tape recorder, and then I built a compressor.<\/p>\n

Did you build your compressor from a Heathkit?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No the compressor design came from Popular Electronics; they had a schematic of a simple optical compressor like an LA2A or something like that. I built it from scratch, from the chassis up.<\/p>\n

What year is this?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: 1956, \u201957.<\/p>\n

What year in high school?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: [Grade] twelve, Thirteen. \u201955, Ten, Eleven, Twelve \u2026Grade ten was when I had my Hamm radio system set up\u2026<\/p>\n

Did you build the Hamm radio as well?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Oh yeah, I built everything. It was cheap. I mean it was cheaper than buying the real thing and I loved building them. And I always had parts left over\u2026 [laughing] I could never figure it out. I don\u2019t know why.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve always had this inner vision of sound. My whole curiosity about sound peeked when I was at a concert at the first or second Montr\u00e9al Jazz Festival. I think I was twelve when I saw Duke Ellington and his band. I\u2019d heard them on record and radio, but when I saw Ellington at the Capitol Theatre \u2013 it used to be a movie theatre on St. Catherine and McGill \u2013 my jaw dropped. I said, \u201cI can\u2019t believe this sound!\u201d The sound\u2026the sound of it! From that moment on my senses began to focus on recreating the sound in my head.<\/p>\n

Why did you go to the United Kingdom instead of looking for a studio in Canada or the United States?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: My parents and I had moved to St. John\u2019s, Newfoundland and my first priority was get out of there. There were only two studios in Canada in 1965; both of them owned by RCA. One of them was in Montr\u00e9al and one was in Toronto on Mutual Street. In those days the United States were very slack about immigration. You could go there to work and you wouldn\u2019t have the problems you do today. However, I had to consider the fact that, if I stayed there for more than six months I would have been eligible for the draft, and back then, of course, the U.S. was in Vietnam. England seemed like the closest safe destination and I knew somebody there, so it was the ideal move.<\/p>\n

At that time of my move, there were only three big recording studios: EMI on Abbey Road; Decca in West Hampstead; and Pye in Mount Lawrence. All three were major military electronic industrial companies. They made everything from television sets to gun sights, to cannons, to radar systems. Decca was a radar specialist, but they also made record players and radios. As well, they held part interest in the new independent radio stations.<\/p>\n

When I got the job at Decca they asked me what I could do. I said, \u201cWell, I\u2019m a pretty good editor,\u201d because of the practice with my home studio when I would splice create different takes. I also discovered that you could overdub by taking the erase head off to go sound on sound. I read a lot, but in those days there wasn\u2019t much literature on how people made records, so I learned to record and edit mostly on my own. By the time I got to Decca I knew how to edit and with my background in music I had a basic understanding of form. John Middleton hired me: first as an editor and then as an engineer. They saw this talented kid from Canada, so I didn\u2019t last very long as an assistant engineer. Actually, as dumb luck would have it, I went directly to engineering sessions because folks were sick. My boss said, \u201cNick you\u2019re the only bloke that can cover. The rest are in the hospital or in bed.\u201d So I did my first session with Tom Jones. He loved my sound and because I already had it in my head I worked really fast. But, the most important consideration \u2013 even back in my basement \u2013 was to always get a good drum sound.<\/p>\n

Were you working on a 4-track for the Tom Jones sessions?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes.<\/p>\n

Were you close mic\u2019ing the drums?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No, we weren\u2019t allowed to close mic drums. You couldn\u2019t get very close to drums because the ribbon microphones would blow up. There were strict rules in the studio.<\/p>\n

In Geoff Emerick\u2019s Here, There And Everywhere he describes the studio environment and what the workplace was like at EMI with all the rules.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: When you\u2019re finished I\u2019d like to read it. EMI was heavily into rules, Decca too. I can remember Ken Scott, who produced Supertramp and a lot of other great records, worked at EMI as an assistant and then an engineer. He did a lot of the Beatles records too. And he was always in trouble with the manager because of the set rules about recording. So he left for Trident and he became a producer, too. Similarly, when the manager at Decca heard one of my sessions he said, \u201cYou can\u2019t have this kind of bottom end.\u201d He had his rules, too and I was constantly breaking them; we all were. I said, \u201cWell the band and the producer like it.\u201d To which the manager replied, \u201cNo matter what the producer says we have set rules and that\u2019s why they come here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Did Decca make you wear a lab coat?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No, but we had to wear suits. Though in the end it didn\u2019t matter because I left for Wessex.<\/p>\n

Did Wessex come to you with an offer?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: The folks at Wessex were making offers to everybody because they knew we weren\u2019t very well paid at Decca. When I arrived at Decca, Britain\u2019s recording industry was changing because pirate radio stations were starting to flourish. Earlier, all aspects of recording were tightly controlled in English studios, so there was no autonomy. You knew you had to record a certain way. You were afforded no artistic expression and never included on album credits. As an employee you were expected to wear a shirt and tie, and you had to have a haircut. And then, all of a sudden, the BBC and the pirate radio stations started to offer everybody a lot of money. That\u2019s how I ended up working at Wessex. And Tom Jones migrated, as well.<\/p>\n

Can I run some names by you? Les Reed.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: He was a songwriter and he was quite well known for songs he wrote with Tom Jones. He was also a partner at Wessex.<\/p>\n

With the Thompsons?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes. Very good, Ted.<\/p>\n

Those names came up when I looked into your session for \u201c21st Century Schizoid Man\u201d with King Crimson. They kept the first take! Unbelievable.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: I recorded The Moody Blues there too. They left Decca and went to Wessex\u2026<\/p>\n

Did you work on In Search of the Lost Chord at Wessex?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes. I had a real problem at Wessex. I was hired because of the overflow of work. Michael Thompson and Robin Thompson were both engineers, so I was the third engineer. They were a tightly knit family and they referred to me as the Canadian chap. The Thompsons always took the credit, even when they weren\u2019t there. Consequently, I never received credit for the sessions I engineered there.<\/p>\n

Here\u2019s a funny story about Michael Thompson \u2013 I\u2019m skipping ahead here. Andr\u00e9 Perry and I were recording the music for the Montreal Olympics (1975-6). At the same time, I was working with the Bee Gees and didn\u2019t have time to mix all the anthems and the opening and closing day ceremony sessions. Andr\u00e9 suggested that we needed to bring in another orchestral mixer. I said, \u201cWell, hire Michael Thompson.\u201d So I flew my old boss into Morin Heights to help with the mixes. It was very strange, very surreal that I was giving orders to a man who used to abuse me verbally.<\/p>\n

Giving orders to your old boss Michael Thompson sounds like the sweet taste of success. I\u2019ve read that Wessex was built in an old church and you couldn\u2019t record when it was raining.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: You couldn\u2019t record when there was thunder and you couldn\u2019t work on Sundays, but that was a general rule in Britain. Anyway, the Thompsons wanted to fire me, but they couldn\u2019t because there were too many clients asking for my services. So they fired me because I broke the Lord\u2019s Day Act by working till 2am one Sunday morning. I ended up going to the Middle East, picked up some work on a spaghetti western that went bankrupt right off the bat, and got stranded in Tel Aviv, Israel.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m astounded by the lack of credits for the music you\u2019ve recorded.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: George Martin never got credit on any of the first The Beatles records because he was employed by EMI. In fact, he didn\u2019t get any royalties until he left EMI and then the Beatles gave him royalties. He became a rich man from that deal, but, like him, none of us were credited. It was never considered part of the business. The labels avoided the possibility of their engineers and producers becoming stars because it meant that they\u2019d have to pay more money to their employees. Being freelance in those days didn\u2019t exist. You had to work for somebody. If you wanted to work for yourself, you had to start your own record company like Jack Holtzen of Electra Records. The only reason A&M Records started was that nobody wanted to buy The Tijuana Brass. The Lonely Bull (1962): nobody wanted to buy it; they thought it was a lousy record. But a young lawyer, Jerry Moss, who believed in the song and Herb Alpert, who believed in the song, obviously, recorded it in a garage. They said, \u201cForget it, let\u2019s start our own record company A&M from the first letter of their names.\u201d They released it, and bang, a big hit, and then they signed more artists. Every small company, like Geffen; he started Asylum and signed the Eagles when nobody else wanted to sign them. Back in the 50s there were a lot of small labels like Cameo in Philadelphia; Regency label that had Little Richard; and the Brunswick label.<\/p>\n

Right, these labels would find and develop the talent and then the majors would take them.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Sure, Buddy Holly was signed to a small label a first.<\/p>\n

So when you arrived in London you were in a situation where you had to work for a major label.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: I had to work for somebody.<\/p>\n

Were the other studios in England at the time \u2013 like Trident or Olympic \u2013 associated with a record label?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No they were independent and the major studios didn\u2019t like the competition. Since the major studios were all major electronics companies they had staff to build their consoles and their tape machines. As a result, Decca had a different sound than EMI. To start an independent studio you had to be able to build your own equipment. When Rupert Neve started making consoles and Willie Studer started making tape machines, they made it possible for the independents to exist. They were the first two men to build off-the-shelf audio equipment. You could make a call to Rupert Neve and ask, \u201cI would like to have a 24-in-8-out console.\u201d And it would be delivered in a month or so.<\/p>\n

Were tape machines 8 tracks at this point?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes, however the main change during this period was that people decided to start making their own consoles. On the other hand, independent studios like Trident designed and built their consoles. Malcolm Toft, who was Trident\u2019s chief engineer, had a technical background. He designed the Trident A console, which was Le Studio\u2019s console before the SSL.<\/p>\n

The rest of us could make a phone call, buy a console, buy a tape recorder, buy microphones, and be ready to go. All of a sudden these independent studios like Trident, Olympic began to establish themselves and the recording industry opened up. You would be hired as an engineer and if you were making good records you\u2019d make a good salary. The same thing happened in the states when companies like MCI and Ultrasonic developed consoles you could buy off-the-shelf. That\u2019s what started the whole independent studio boom.<\/p>\n

Normally, engineers develop their listening skills in the controlled environment of an acoustically balanced recording studio. Over the course of your career it must have been challenging to get good results working in the wide variety of situations, varied environments, with different styles of music and sound.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: I\u2019ve always had good results because I have the sound in my head. It doesn\u2019t matter where I record, it always works out quite well. Keep in mind also that I can think rather abstractly, so I like diversity. For instance, right now I\u2019m producing a smooth jazz record, but I\u2019m also doing a rock record, and I\u2019m doing a hip hop record. On one day, I\u2019ll master an album at Metalworks, the next, an artist will come to my place to master. It could be anything from hip-hop to classical to spoken word records. The music I work with changes constantly, which is good. I wouldn\u2019t like every project to be the same. All my life I\u2019ve been involved in music. From my earliest childhood memories I can\u2019t remember a time when I haven\u2019t thought about music.<\/p>\n

After the Middle East fiasco I went to Canada to see my parents because my wife Veronica was pregnant with our son Sasha, who was conceived in Israel; he\u2019s a holy baby. While I was there, I looked into the studios in Montr\u00e9al and that\u2019s when I met Andr\u00e9 Perry who had a beautiful place in Amherst Square. At that particular time we got on extremely well. It was the fall when the colours are beautiful and he invited me up to his place in Morin Heights. We had dinner and drank some wine and that\u2019s when we decided to build a studio. It was Andr\u00e9\u2019s idea to build a studio out in the country where artists could get away and stay at a five star villa. I designed it, we built it and the studio worked out very well.<\/p>\n

When you were designing the studio floor and the control room did you bring in an acoustician?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: It was all Andre Perry’s idea. Designing the studio was a series of discussions we had in what we liked and didn’t like about studios and the end result was Morin Heights.
\n <\/strong><\/p>\n

Le Studio was built beside Andre\u2019s summer home. It must have been a beautiful setting to work in.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes, it was a nice house. Right next to it there was a private lake. <\/strong><\/p>\n

Did you add the villa when you were building the studio?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No actually, when we first built the studio we had a guesthouse, which was about a half-hour drive away. That place burned down.<\/p>\n

What happened? Did a rock star burn it down?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: What happened was Roy Thomas Baker and Ian Hunter forgot to put the grid back onto the fireplace when they went to bed. The fire was still burning and sparks landed on the carpet.<\/p>\n

Roy Thomas Baker talks about the incident in an interview I read recently. He said it was the middle of winter.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: He had to jump from a second story bedroom into a snow bank with no clothes on. Anyway, just through the woods from the studio was another house that was owned by a retired army colonel and it was a big place. It had eight bedrooms and we added four more when we bought the place and the grounds. It was right across the lake and it was for sale because he was moving back to England. We used the colonel\u2019s place as our guesthouse and breakfast was included. We had a wine cellar and one of the first huge analog satellite dishes. We had a deal with a restaurant in Saint-Saveur in which their Chef, Andr\u00e9 Bastion, would make meals and bring them to Le Studio or the band would go to the restaurant and eat. The guests loved it.<\/p>\n

Eventually you hired a Cordon Bleu chef.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: In the latter part of the studio\u2019s life we had a Cordon Bleu chef and his wife on staff. There was always a party atmosphere at Morin Heights. That\u2019s what we tried to create. We created the stationary Love Boat with drugs, drink and sex. Nowadays many behave like they\u2019re at work when they\u2019re in a studio. In those days, there was always a party happening. There were always girls around. That\u2019s rare now. Still, all the bands want to hear my stories of debauchery because they can\u2019t believe that it actually happened. I say to them, \u201cEven you guys can make the choice.\u201d But they say, \u201cOh, I don\u2019t think my girlfriend would like it.\u201d Everybody is so straight these days.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve been listening to many of the albums you made at Le Studio. What kind of gear were you using back then?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Generally, it was all the same equipment. The recording I did at Le Studio in Morin Heights was through an SSL E console with a Studer 24 track. We had very minimal outboard gear. The thing with the SSL is that every track had a gate and compressor. But that was it.<\/p>\n

You must have had a good variety of microphones.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Oh yeah, we had great microphones: Neumann U87s, U47s, Telefunken tube mics that are standard for professional studios. Microphones were really cheap in those days; two hundred dollars for a U87. These days that mic costs thousands of dollars because it\u2019s considered a valuable retro mic. People say, \u201cDavid Bowie sang on those!\u201d It\u2019s all bullshit. In those days tape was forty dollars a reel; a good microphone was one hundred and fifty bucks; and SM57 only cost forty bucks. We thought that was normal. Now it\u2019s one hundred and seventy-five for a 57. That\u2019s the way it goes with inflation.<\/p>\n

Considering the rural setting of Le Studio did you ever have periods when the equipment was down?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No. We had an incredible maintenance staff. Every month they would take the 24-track machine apart. I brought Roger Ginsley from Wessex; he used to work as a maintenance man there. And, Jean Luc Lareotour; I found him working as a carpenter when we were building the studio. He also worked as a ski instructor during the winter. I learned that he had a degree in electronics from the University of Z\u00fcrich and asked him, \u201cWhy don\u2019t you work for us?\u201d They were both great, but all we had was the SSL and the tape machine and none of the equipment broke down. We never had one session ever interrupted. We had other problems with other things. We had a very bad grounding problem initially, but we hired a helicopter to drop a thick copper plate the size of this room in the middle of the lake and that solved our problems immediately.<\/p>\n

So you ran a couple of leads to the copper plate which then served as a ground for the studio. How long did the grounding problem last before you corrected it?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: The first four or five years. When the Northern Lights were on, we used to get Voice of America broadcasting in Spanish from West Virginia. Oh, we had no ground at all. The land surrounding the studio was all sand.<\/p>\n

You didn\u2019t have a backup tape machine?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No, but we did have extra power supplies for the console. During the first two years the only time we had problems were power failures because of the snowstorms up there in the mountains. So we bought a big Mercedes hospital generator.<\/p>\n

As a drummer and a fan of Stewart Copeland, I have to ask how it was working with the The Police? Did you collaborate with Stewart Copeland for the delay sounds on any of the drum tracks?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: I didn\u2019t have anything to do with the delay settings. I got the lines coming in from the band and then the drum technician said, \u201cHere\u2019s six more lines.\u201d I asked, \u201cFrom the drums?\u201d He replied, \u201cYeah.\u201d Stewart Copeland had delay machines at his side. When he threw a switch and hit one note and it would go \u201cCh-ch-ch-ch.\u201d So his playing was delayed continually and everyone thought, \u201cGreat hi-hat pattern.\u201d It was a great hi-hat pattern, but he had just hit it once! They were all programmed delays.<\/p>\n

Did he tell you he wanted you to mix these sounds?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Oh yeah, absolutely, but I was told exactly how to do it by Sting.<\/p>\n

Okay, so how did you find working with Sting in the studio?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: He was very calm and he knew exactly what he wanted.<\/p>\n

Where did you find the keyboardist that played on the recording?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Well, I knew Jean Roussel very well from my time working with Cat Stevens. He was Cat Stevens\u2019 keyboardist. I brought him into the Police session because Sting came alone from Montserrat in January. I asked him, \u201cWell, what are we going to do?\u201d Sting said, \u201cI\u2019m going to write some songs and I\u2019ll need a keyboard player.\u201d I said, \u201cWell, Jean lives in the next village.\u201d And Sting knew of him because Jean was quite well known from the Cat Stevens days; and that was that.<\/p>\n

So the tracking happened at Le Studio in the middle of winter?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Just for one song, \u201cEvery Little Thing She Does Is Magic.\u201d Maybe a few other songs, but I don\u2019t remember exactly. I do remember that there was a major rift going on between Sting and the band, which involved Hugh Padgham. It was really political.<\/p>\n

Was Hugh Padgham there for the sessions?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No.<\/p>\n

Just you and them?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No, just Sting and me. I recorded the vocals, keyboards and everything else and then he took me down to AIR Studios in Montserrat to mix.<\/p>\n

I thought you had recorded the drum tracks for \u201cEvery Little Thing…\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: For \u201cEvery Little Thing…\u201d? No, the drums I recorded were for a live album.<\/p>\n

Are you referring to the time you joined them on their world tour?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes.<\/p>\n

Did they ever release a video or live recording?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: I don\u2019t know.<\/p>\n

You don\u2019t know? <\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: I don\u2019t know. I\u2019ve never kept a complete record of my discography.<\/p>\n

But they were one of the biggest bands in the world!<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: I couldn\u2019t have cared less about that. They weren\u2019t very happy. At the time they didn\u2019t like each other at all. Now that I think of it, I do remember drums being set up at Le Studio and I do remember recording some beds because they all had a fight about whose turn it was for the B-side. Then they did a whole jam of songs. I think all three of them came up to Morin Heights at one point. I know they were up there for Synchronicity. That\u2019s when I refused to work with them. I hate being a referee.<\/p>\n

Having to settle artistic disagreements?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No, there were fistfights between Stewart and Sting. So I just walked away. I think I made a mistake though because when Sting asked me to work on his solo album I turned down the offer. Hugh Padgham stayed with him and the rest is history. It\u2019s one of those decisions. It was a crazy period in my life. In those days I didn\u2019t have a manager or anybody to handle the business aspects of my career.<\/p>\n

Who was taking care of the studio\u2019s business?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yael Brandeis. She was living with Andr\u00e9 Perry; now she\u2019s married to him. They\u2019re still together. The three of us ran the studio.<\/p>\n

While we\u2019re discussing your experiences as an engineer, what were some of the fond memories or special moments?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Special moments\u2026hmmm\u2026 mixing live sound on Saturday Night Live with the Bee Gees was a special moment only because they were wonderful people to work with\u2026<\/p>\n

They had an amazing bunch of players in their band.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: The Bee Gees were very intense, very creative and very smooth. Another highlight of my career was Perfect Strangers (1984) with Deep Purple. The sessions were very creative and a lot of fun. I don\u2019t know how much fun you can have making a record, but that was a tremendous amount of fun. Of course it went downhill after that, but everybody loved each other. Ritchie was in great spirits during that record.<\/p>\n

The Deep Purple biography I\u2019m reading portrays Ritchie as the emotional one in the group.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No he\u2019s just the opposite. He was very cold, but I got along very well with Ritchie. It was Ian and Ritchie that had spats; I never got into it. It was none of my business. I made a decision to bring a great bedside manner to the sessions. Part of making a good record requires understanding human nature, well, at least understanding musicians and the artistic temperament. Since the moment I started working with them, I noticed common traits among musicians. There\u2019s good reason for the stereotypes of bass players, guitarists, drummers and singers; particularly singers, they\u2019re a breed apart. The character fits because that\u2019s what happens when they interact in an artistic setting. Deep Purple have been big part of my life and still are. I recently finished Ian Gillan\u2019s latest solo album and I\u2019ve known Roger Glover since 1972. We used to hang out together for a long time.<\/p>\n

Did you first meet Roger Glover when you were hired to engineer the Nazareth albums?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes, Roger was their producer. I ended up taking over for Roger, not as a producer, but as an engineer. Ah, the Scottish boys. I did three albums for them. Playin\u2019 the Game (1976), Close Enough for Rock\u2019n\u2019Roll (1976), and Expect No Mercy (1977). Roger and I became close friends. I\u2019ve always had repeat clients; they\u2019ve always come back to me for the next record, which happened with both Deep Purple and Rainbow. With Rainbow the follow-up recording was Straight Between the Eyes (1982), and \u201cStone Cold\u201d was a hit.<\/p>\n

So the relationships developed during those records made you the obvious choice for Deep Purple\u2019s reunion album Perfect Strangers (1984). How did that come about?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: I was in New York at Quadraphonic Sound in Times Square. I don\u2019t remember what I was doing. Oh! I know it was a reggae guy called Fabiano. He came from Guadeloupe and ended up living in Montr\u00e9al. Anyway, I was in New York doing his record and I called Roger from my hotel room and said, \u201cI\u2019m in town doing this thing.\u201d He said, \u201cOkay, we\u2019ll meet up.\u201d He called me back and asked, \u201cWe\u2019re going to have dinner. Are you free?\u201d I said, \u201cYeah, it\u2019s my day off.\u201d We ended up at this French restaurant across from Sam Ash, the music store. We were sitting down there and he said, \u201cRainbow is no more.\u201d I asked, \u201cWhat happened?\u201d He answered, \u201cWe\u2019re going to reform Deep Purple.\u201d We met in Greenwich\u2026<\/p>\n

Right. Greenwich, NY was a base for the band.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: They said, \u201cWe\u2019d like you to engineer.\u201d I said, \u201cThank you. Great! Yeah!\u201d Then he asked me, \u201cHow are we going to do this recording?\u201d Because the boys were rehearsing at a property in Stowe, Vermont and they like it there.<\/p>\n

Did one of them own the place in Vermont?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah, I can\u2019t\u2019 remember who owned it, but it was a large property with two houses and a pool. It was an estate. So I organized the sessions by bringing up Guy Charbonneau with his Le Mobile from San Diego. He drove up with his Neve console and two twenty-four tracks. Oh, it was great! We set up shop there and it was a lot of fun. Every second day we played soccer.<\/p>\n

The creative energy must have been flowing.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Oh, the energy was great. We recorded in a basement. The ceilings were quite high, but it was all concrete. I\u2019ll show you a video of it. It was a great summer.
\nAfter the tracking was completed Ritchie wanted to mix it in Hamburg, Germany because he had a son there and he wanted to play soccer. It took me a while to find a studio with an SSL console, but I did and we ended up mixing at Tennessee Tone Studios.<\/p>\n

You searched specifically for a studio with an SSL desk?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah, I like the combination of recording on a Neve, which Guy had, and mixing on an SSL.<\/p>\n

I get it, the warmth of the Neve and the facility of the SSL.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah. It was a great record. I believe it was Deep Purple\u2019s largest selling record.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re mentioned in Dave Thompson\u2019s Deep Purple biography. It says, \u201cNick Blagona, the Russian-Canadian engineer who\u2019d put up with so much in Vermont, was still available.\u201d Thompson explained that the sessions for House of Blue Light (1987) were difficult which eventually spurred Glover and Gillan to ask you to come to AIR Studios in Montserrat and record the Gillan\/Glover duo album Accidentally on Purpose (1988).
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Well yeah, Ian had a separate contract to do solo albums. They were so burned out from Blue Light (1987) that Ian and Roger decided to do a solo album together and go to Montserrat to just chill out, but they had no songs. So they wrote in Montserrat. We went there twice; once in the rainy season in the summer and once in November or December. I can\u2019t remember exactly, but that was a lot of fun.<\/p>\n

It must have been a nice change from sitting in the back of Guy Charbonneau\u2019s mobile truck in Vermont.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Oh yeah, for Blue Light (1987) we were using Guy Charbonneau\u2019s truck again in Stowe, Vermont. Originally somebody decided we would use a studio in Massachusetts called Longview Farm. One of the problems with the farm was that nobody liked living in the same house together. I snored so loud everybody complained about it. Ritchie was in the room next door to me and John Lord was on the other side. It was just too much. There were also a lot of horses on the farm and the smell of horseshit was everywhere. We couldn\u2019t stand it so I called Guy and we ended up back in Stowe.<\/p>\n

Back at the same place?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No we stayed in this condo estate that was part of a golf course. The estate had a playhouse that we used as our studio.<\/p>\n

So you were recording the group in an auditorium?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: It was a little theatre; it had a stage and about three hundred seats. It was a good sounding room.<\/p>\n

And this is where you recorded the bed tracks?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Everything. We used the theatre and the dressing rooms downstairs. Ian took up one room for song writing and that\u2019s where we\u2019d do the vocals. We had cameras everywhere to communicate from room to room. It was a tough record to do, but between Ritchie, Ian, Roger, Ian Paice, John and myself we had a lot of fun. After that album we did another, but it got too cold in Vermont. So we moved down to a studio in Orlando. Oh, Florida was where we did that terrible record with Joe Lynn Turner.<\/p>\n

Joe Lynn Turner talks about making Slaves and Masters (1990) and maintains that he was the scapegoat for the rising tensions in Deep Purple.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: It was Ritchie\u2019s idea to bring Joe in. Ian left because there was a power struggle and Ritchie won. He had always liked Joe\u2019s voice and Joe was easily handled. Joe liked that commercial American sound that Ritchie was looking for. You know Journey, Foreigner, but that sound didn\u2019t work for Deep Purple. Slaves and Masters (1990) was a terrible record to make. That was my last record with them. I couldn\u2019t take having\u2026 You see making these records takes seven months out of your life. Then to try and find work afterwards was very difficult. Basically you disappear for a while and then nobody knows you anymore. Whereas these days I\u2019m freelance, and everybody knows I\u2019m working. I\u2019m always busy, and the difference is the diverse projects. I couldn\u2019t do an album for seven months these days unless you paid me a tremendous amount of money.<\/p>\n

Over the course of working with the guys from Deep Purple can you remember a moment of personal creative input or inspiration?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Roger Glover\u2019s solo album, The Mask (1984), was instigated after I read some of Roger\u2019s poetry. He\u2019s a great poet and talented painter. I kept telling him, \u201cYou have to make a record based on your poems.\u201d Finally, I got through to him one night when Rainbow was playing in Montr\u00e9al. After the gig Roger, and me, and the girl I was with went to Ben\u2019s Delicatessen; you know the one that stays open late with all the pictures of famous people on the wall. It was 2am, we were eating the sandwiches and that\u2019s when he decided we were going to do it.<\/p>\n

Biographer Richard Thompson referred to The Mask as \u201cmasterful\u201d.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah, it\u2019s a good record. We tracked it at a studio called Bear Tracks, which was owned by a jazz band out of Buffalo called Spyro Gyra. I basically produced it, but Roger wrote all the music himself.<\/p>\n

Well these stories speak to an interaction that\u2019s a big part of making music.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Ninety percent of making records is in the social interaction between people and that creates that magic.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m interested in those moments that reveal your tacit knowledge of engineering. I think of you as a mixing engineer. I\u2019m sure most people do. When you mix on an SSL it becomes rather obvious that you\u2019re making a number of implicit decisions that shape and reshape the sound. It\u2019s an amazing performance to watch and hear, and often the details of your creativity are overlooked because of the speed with which you work.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Basically, my approach to mixing is always the same; I just hear it in my head. I bring out the drums first. The meat and potatoes are the bass and drums. And if you have a great drum sound the mix is already done. From my point of view a bad drum sound is a bad record. That\u2019s one of the first things I was taught.<\/p>\n

A lot of the young engineers have gone back to the most boring way of making records which is the traditional American way where they record everything flat. I don\u2019t agree with that approach. The thinking being, if you record everything flat no matter how bad it sounds; it\u2019s flat; it\u2019s the truth. Then you fix it in the mix. My philosophy is the British approach which is to make it sound right on the playback no matter what it takes. At this particular juncture in my life I already know the sound, so I\u2019ve already set the EQs even before the drums are set up. My assistants can\u2019t believe that I come up with the same basic EQs out of my head from total recall: same thing with bass, same thing with guitars.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re methods are a result of over 40 years of accumulated experience and knowledge. You were born knowing the sound in your head, but these preset EQ\u2019s contain an implicit account the room\u2019s acoustics, the microphones used, their placement, the type of music, and the musicians\u2019 performance styles. These are the factors that contribute to how quickly your sessions are set up and running.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: What I also do is get the drummer to play in front of me. Just a back beat. I don\u2019t do sound checks where I ask, \u201cCan you play the kick drum?\u201d and you get a kick drum sound. Checking each drum individually is totally unrealistic. It\u2019s like getting a guitar sound by asking, \u201cCan you play the strings separately so I can get a sound?\u201d I see the drum kit as one instrument. I see a guitar as one instrument; it has six strings or twelve strings or a bass has four strings.<\/p>\n

I ask the drummer for a back beat and go back into the control room. When the band comes and listens after I\u2019ve recorded it they\u2019re all amazed by it because I get a drum sound in about twenty minutes. Lately, I\u2019ve been using the woofer cone from a Yamaha NS-10 as another microphone for the kick and it works great. I use a Sennheiser 421 right at the head so you get the attack and the NS-10 has that compact and controllable bottom end sound. Recently, I was doing a band called \u201cProtest the Hero\u201d with producer Julius Butty and I thought, \u201cOkay, besides using microphones for a bass amp, let\u2019s try the NS-10 speaker. And let\u2019s try the same thing on the guitar amps.\u201d The resulting sound was incredible because it created a bottom end that\u2019s unique; that no EQ can give. So now I\u2019m using a speaker as a microphone for much of my stuff.<\/p>\n

So you use it on a bass?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Yes, I put it right against the woofer of the bass amp; woofer-to-woofer. I actually use the NS-10 because one of the amplifiers blew on the V8s in the studio. So I asked the tech to set the speaker up as a microphone and it works really well. It creates so much amplification. When you put the speaker in front of a kick drum, that cone moves. With that big magnet and the way that speaker moves it creates quite a voltage and quite a signal.<\/p>\n

Do you pad the signal?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: I have to pad it down, but I don\u2019t use EQ. When I started using the speaker I thought, \u201cI need a really big sound.\u201d We were using two different guitar amps, on the same guitar with a couple of SM57s, but as soon as I put the woofer speaker in front of the amps, all of a sudden, the sound was fat. Then I played with the phase relationship between the two microphones to create the distance. For instance, if you want a tighter kick drum sound then put the mics out of phase. If you want a big rock sound you put them in phase. Here\u2019s an example of the phase relationship between kick drum mics from a band I\u2019m working on right now called Talk Radio. [Listening to playback] That\u2019s my kick\u2026 there\u2019s the 421\u2026 and that\u2019s with the NS-10.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s a great kick sound.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Combined together this creates a tighter bass drum out of phase. Using a speaker as a mic has been around for a long time. I used a 15\u201d woofer with Nazareth. I did a lot of experimentation because I could; it was my own studio. I had the whole studio at my disposal: the microphones, the environment. I even experimented with trying to write between the left and right speaker.<\/p>\n

Trying to do what?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Write\u2026 I\u2019m still trying to figure this one out. You can really hear the effect with headphones, particularly today with iPods; everyone listens to everything on headphones. Depending on the phase relationship you can hear tom-toms go either below you or above you…. When I start panning during playback \u2013 I still like to move things around \u2013 you know, moving guitar solos back and forth like the old Hendrix stuff. Well, one time while I was working with Nazareth I heard something going like this\u2026<\/p>\n

Oscillating in the air between the speakers?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah. There was depth like X, Y and Z. Since then I\u2019ve been trying to figure out how to manipulate the phase relationships to write something in the air between the speakers using phase relationships.<\/p>\n

Most advice on phase relationships suggest avoidance when it comes to out-of-phase sounds, but you seem to manipulate phase relationships as part of your toolkit. I remember once at a jazz session you inverted the phase on the drum set overheads to create a 3D effect with the drummer\u2019s brush technique.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: The phase relationship gives it a lot more depth. For instance, mid-side, MS mic\u2019ing technique\u2026 what happens is you accomplish incredible depth in the sound. It really works well in 5.1. I did that with Tea Party when we recorded the acoustic guitar. I had the acoustic guitar coming out of the centre speaker and I had the mid-side out-of-phase coming right at you out of here. It\u2019s like you\u2019re right inside of it.<\/p>\n

The most important thing when I started as an engineer was phase relationships because we did everything in mono. And then, when we moved to stereo, it was even more important to consider the compatibility between stereo and mono. You couldn\u2019t have anything 180 degrees out of phase like you can today. You could record in MS stereo, but it had to be placed in the back of the mix. If anything were 180 degrees out of phase when you were cutting vinyl, the needle would blow up. The voltage would build up because it would keep feeding back on itself and the stylus wouldn\u2019t know where to go. The other problem with tracks that were recorded out of phase was that the cancellation would cause the sounds\u2019 image to disappear in mono. I still think mono is very important and when I listen to a mix I\u2019m building I listen to it in mono. I know the sound of phase relationships so well that nothing disappears for me, but there have been many records that have disappearing images when stereo is collapsed into mono.<\/p>\n

When I master I switch playback to mono and, on occasion, the vocals suddenly disappear. The artist may have had some effect on it that sounded great, but I\u2019ll know instantly that the track was out of phase if the centre drops out in mono. Once when I told a client about this occurrence he said, \u201cWell, that doesn\u2019t matter anymore.\u201d I said, \u201cOkay, there are still some mono stations around, but what happens if your song becomes a video? Many people still have a mono speaker on their TV.\u201d I hear it a lot on MTV or Much Music. The vocal is not there and this reveals the inexperience of the engineer.<\/p>\n

How have computers affected your approach to mixing?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Here\u2019s a technique I use in the digital format. I kick the shit out of the SSL compressor plug-in coming from the Liquidmix. Notice when I bypass the SSL the mix distorts.<\/p>\n

How did you come up with that trick?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: It\u2019s just feel; same thing with the drums. I have the whole drum sound compressed. The room sound is heavily compressed. This plug-in emulates Abbey Road. And this compressor is a distressor, very little attack and very little release. That\u2019s my drum sound on a Neve. These are real drum sounds, no EQ\u2019ing. Actually, with the toms I added a little top end. He had a great drum set. It\u2019s a custom made Sonor. One of the best drum kits I\u2019ve ever heard.<\/p>\n

This track sounds great. Are we listening to a finished mix?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: No, but I tend to mix while I\u2019m doing overdubs so at the end I don\u2019t have a long mixing session. By the time we finish overdubs the mix is almost complete.<\/p>\n

You\u2019re mixing the instruments as you track.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: I\u2019m tweaking constantly. The reason I can do that is because of the computer\u2019s recall. Previously on an SSL you couldn\u2019t do that. The SSL was said to have total recall, but it never worked properly. It was a misnomer. So you would have to have a separate mixing session at the end. You\u2019d try to get it close, but you could never get it exact, whereas, on a computer you can store everything.<\/p>\n

The computer workstation has democratized audio recording by providing a low-cost format to musicians and amateur recordists. How do you feel about the proliferation of home studios?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: It is common for everybody to have a recording studio at home, but the situation is comparable to me owning a formula one car. I have this two hundred thousand dollar vehicle and I can go fast, but I won\u2019t win any races. In fact, I\u2019d probably kill myself first. It\u2019s the same thing with home computer engineering; I get a lot of mastering work from these musicians and the sound is atrocious. They have no idea what goes into building a sound.<\/p>\n

A common problem with project studios is that people have a hard time finishing their recordings. Many amateurs re-track over and over in search of the right sound or overdub without end in attempt to find the right arrangement.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Yeah, that\u2019s because they have had no real experience with the recording process and no sound vision. Consequently, the recording sounds like a piece of shit. And then all I can do as a mastering engineer is polish a turd. That\u2019s the dilemma today. In the early days, everything was set. You had agents or an agent, who booked the bands. You had A&R guys who did their job. You had producers who did what they were supposed to do. You had engineers who did what they were supposed to do, and artists who were signed to the label. The label paid for the studio time. Everybody agreed on the price. Everybody made a good living. The record might not have been a hit, but everyone still survived. If the record was a hit, so much the better and it made everybody happy. Back then we got free gold records; nowadays we have to pay for them. The music industry has changed.<\/p>\n

Though, on the other hand, besides the big studios like RCA, Columbia, Capitol, EMI, and so forth, the real pioneers of recording were people who had studios in their home; like for instance Les Paul inventing overdubs. I saw a picture of his studio. It was really cool.<\/p>\n

He was cutting discs to do sound on sound recordings.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: And Motown made their big hits in a garage in a suburban area. It was in a house. Hitsville, U.S.A. was written in signage across the living room window. The real pioneers were not the big studios, but the little guys in a room. That will probably be ever the case.<\/p>\n

I get the impression that the big studios have always looked to the independents for new music.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah, like Sam Phillips and the mom-and-pop shops. All over the world somebody was building something innovative in the basement; like Scully, who invented the eight track recorder. Ampex was started by a sergeant in the US army who found the schematics for the Telefunken tape recorder after they entered Germany and he took them and started Ampex in California.<\/p>\n

What are your thoughts on the recording industry\u2019s change from analog to digital?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: The application and approach to engineering in the digital domain is totally different from analog. I think digital resolution is better now than when it was first introduced. For instance, this Focusrite Liquidmix has compressors and EQ\u2019s from 1945 on. You can A-B the sounds with the original waves on their website. The emulation technology is incredible; Universal Audio is also very good. Plug-ins today are as good as the real thing; same with the debate over hard disk versus tape. Originally, I was so used to tape I thought tape was better. We did a test a few months back with Protest the Hero. I asked, \u201cDo you guys have any tape left around?\u201d So we recorded the bedtracks with the tape and ProTools at the same time. ProTools sounded better.<\/p>\n

Even hitting the tape hard?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: The recording on the tape was squashed. The two didn\u2019t sound the same. Whereas the ProTools tracks through the converters sounded great. I\u2019ll never go back. Today the ProTools HD system is pretty good. If they used Apogees or SSL converters it would be even better. The technology has evolved to the point where there\u2019s no need for the debate. I like to use tape sometimes when I\u2019m mastering to warm it up with 1\u201d tape, but I would never go back to tape for tracking.<\/p>\n

Everything has changed with digital recording technology. I started on a three-track tape with so much hiss. Then to Dolby and that cleaned it up, but changed the sound. Then the first computers were integrated with recording technology and then SSL created the new evolution with total recall.<\/p>\n

One of Studer\u2019s major mistakes was that they didn\u2019t believe in digital technology. They could have been in a market position like ProTools is today, but they didn\u2019t believe in it. They still believed in tape. They thought tape was going to go on forever. As soon as I saw a computer that could record two-track audio with the capacity for non-destructive editing I thought, \u201cHere we go.\u201d That was the beginning of the end for tape.<\/p>\n

Was it the change from 16 bit to 24 bit that improved the fidelity of the digital medium and made it more desirable to change from analog?\u201d
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: No, the change from 16 to 24-bit makes no difference. People send me files that are 24\/96. The thing you have to remember is that 24\/96 is good if you\u2019re doing a string quartet with a lot of dynamics because the noise floor is a lot lower. But you know when you\u2019re doing pop music and you\u2019re ramming it right to -0.1 I don\u2019t hear any difference between heavy rock 44.1 at 16. However, I like 44.1 at 24 for this medium because at 24 bits the reverb sounds better. I would like to go up to 32 bits, but it doesn\u2019t exist. 96kHz is just too high because most hard drives are running at 7200 rpm. If you\u2019re running at 96kHz you need a hard drive that runs at 15000 rpm at least. The processing is so slow at such a high resolution.<\/p>\n

Isn\u2019t today\u2019s standard 24\/48? <\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah, but I like 24\/44.1. In fact, right now I\u2019m mixing an album from Newfoundland and they gave it to me at 24\/96 and I can\u2019t work with it because at 96kHz this Liquidmix only works on two tracks and my plug-ins don\u2019t work well because they only work at 4 tracks. At 44.1kHz I can run 32 tracks and the session runs a lot smoother. The other problem with running at 24\/96 is that once you finished mixing and you have to crunch it down to 16\/44.1, that\u2019s a lot of number crunching for all those individual tracks, which makes the mix sound different. Whereas, it sounds better when I only have to convert from 24kHz down to 16kHz. What is interesting is when someone gives me tracks at 24\/96 and I crunch them down before I start mixing, it changes the sound slightly. It makes the top end a lot more glossy, which I kind of like.<\/p>\n

So there is an advantage to it?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: There is an advantage before I mix. It\u2019s pretty cool.<\/p>\n

When you say \u201cmore glossy\u201d is it a high frequency thing?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: It\u2019s the timbre of the top end. The harmonic structure changes\u2026 What is good is the fact that I can still hear up that high. At 65 I can still hear the top end very well.
\nI sometimes have a little problem where I have to concentrate on distortion because sometimes when I\u2019m mastering I pump the mix pretty hard. If the band says they hear a little distortion I\u2019ll put on the headphones and there it is. I used to hear it well in my twenties, but at 65 I\u2019m still pretty good.<\/p>\n

Musicians are much more involved with the complete process these days.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: They also have younger ears.<\/p>\n

Right, but in the past musicians would record, leave, and at the end the band would approve the mixes. Today many bands insist on taking part in the whole process.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Even back then the mix depended on the band\u2019s input. The only problem with musicians\u2019 involvement with the recording process is what I call \u201cthe anal syndrome.\u201d In the earlier days you would mix it, everyone would agree on a mix, and it would be sent out. The reason why was that they were signed to a label. They had a deadline. The art department was ready for the artwork. They were scheduled to go on tour, and the release date was set\u2026 and so on. Today independent bands have none of that. Often, if there\u2019s no finishing date, musicians get a completion complex. It gets really stupid. Sometimes when I do a mix, they listen to it and say they love it. They take it home and then come back later and ask, \u201cCan we make some changes?\u201d I say, \u201cSure.\u201d The requests could be \u201cvocal up or vocal down.\u201d I don\u2019t mind any of that, but when I get requests two or three months into changes and they ask for an adjustment to the hi-hat, \u201cCan you just bring the hi-hat down a half a dB?\u201d Or they ask \u201cCan you bring this thing up,\u201d and so forth, I have to draw the line. That\u2019s why I used to have a clause in my freelance contract that said they have three revisions included in the price, then after that it\u2019s $100 per song. It\u2019s amazing how happy they become with the mixes as soon as they have to pay for the changes. Anyway, it\u2019s that kind of scenario I really dislike about the \u2018indie\u2019 world. Plus, many of the bands aren\u2019t disciplined enough.<\/p>\n

What do you mean by disciplined?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Lack of experience. Many independent bands I\u2019ve recorded haven\u2019t been on the road. All they\u2019ve been doing is rehearsing and recording. They have no contact with the outside world. I have an ideal scenario in mind. Normally, when a band gets signed they have songs. The group rehearses the songs during preproduction and the songs are fresh and untested and unsettled when they\u2019re recorded. I\u2019d love to do a record where I do prepro\u2019 with a band; the band goes on tour for six months, rocks hard on the songs, and by the time they come back to record the songs they\u2019re tight. You know they\u2019d have the songs down. Traditionally, bands learn the song in prepro\u2019 and record it immediately. A lot of times I\u2019ll go out to see a band a year after their record is done and they play the music so well. They always say, \u201cWe wish we could do the record again right now.\u201d
\nThe bands that have been on the road, like a band from Montr\u00e9al called \u201cPete Moss\u201d that I did four songs for \u2013 they\u2019re road worthy. They are on the road constantly, so their songs have matured in front of live audiences. They were the easiest band to deal with on the mix. The listened to it, loved it and made no recalls. When you listen to the mixes, there they are and that\u2019s what they sound like.<\/p>\n

They\u2019ve already developed their musical identity before entering the studio.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah, most bands have an identity crisis because they don\u2019t tour. The problem with Canada is that it\u2019s a very hard country to tour and Canadian bands, by nature, can be very lazy. In the United States it\u2019s a whole different scenario. Every 90 miles there\u2019s another city with colleges. For instance, around San Diego there are roughly 200 colleges in a 200-mile radius. Bands can travel to a show and come back home the same day. And the colleges pay, so you can build a fan base.<\/p>\n

In terms of distances, population and exposure, touring in the States is a lot easier for bands. We both know that great music has been produced in Canada, but, in spite of that, a lot of Canada\u2019s cultural cues come from the States.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Canada has its own cultural contributions to popular music, for instance Francophone culture: they make their own films and they have their own stars. I mixed a Linda Lemay record a few years ago and it sold three million copies in Qu\u00e9bec, alone. That\u2019s why, when you look at Soundscan and find at least two French records in the top twenty, many people in the rest of Canada don\u2019t know who these French artists are. A significant part of my career involved French Canadian music. When I arrived in Qu\u00e9bec in the early 1970s, there was a vibrant music scene. I did three records with Robert Charlebois. I did three records with Jean Pi\u00e8rre Ferland. Actually, I\u2019d like to get a of copy of Les Vierges du Qu\u00e9bec. That was a really interesting record. Jean Pi\u00e8rre\u2019s album sold a million.<\/p>\n

Qu\u00e9bec was a really comfortable place to make records. That\u2019s why Nanette Workman \u2013 I think I did four albums with her \u2013 ended up singing in French because she was having trouble making it as a hit singer in English. She\u2019d come from Arkansas; her father was a trombone player with Glen Miller. Her claim to fame was singing backup vocals on Let It Bleed. She was in Paris trying to get her career going. She was in a bar and another girl said, \u201cThe Rolling Stones need another backup singer. You wanna come?\u201d So that\u2019s what started her career.<\/p>\n

In between those projects I recorded a slew of other French Canadian artists. At the time French artists had a big fan base and they had huge budgets; 130 grand was nothing because their records sold. Many were signed to major labels and the labels made a lot of money from them because their records sold. All these artists were selling records; it\u2019s and incredibly unique characteristic of our country.<\/p>\n

Your time a Morin Heights also provided you with the opportunity to work with Tom Dowd. Would you talk a bit about that experience?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Tom Dowd was a great guy; I worked with him on the McGarrigle Sisters\u2019 Love Over and Over (1982). Mark Knoffler played on that album. We did it at Morin Heights, we did it in London, we did it at Muscle Shoals, we did it in LA, and we did it in New York. The logistics were a pain because in those days you had to transport the tapes between each studio. You had to make safety copies in case something happened like if they were put under an x-ray at the airport security. We used a company called Rocket Cargo that specialized in transporting audiotape because I certainly wasn\u2019t going to carry around a bag of tapes.<\/p>\n

How many tapes were transported between studios?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Well, we kept the numbers under control by making a master reel. From the multiple takes you would find the one that you liked or assemble a complete song with edited sections from multiple takes. Then you would put these on a master reel by splicing leader tape in between the songs. Each reel was roughly fifteen minutes in length, so you would end up with something like four reels for the project.<\/p>\n

How did Tom Dowd influence your approach to engineering?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Tom Dowd was an influence in terms of feel. Roy Thomas Baker influenced me in the technical aspects of making a record: How to be over-the-top. If anything was worth doing, it was worth over-doing. I worked with him on Pilot\u2019s Morin Heights (1976), and I also did Ian Hunter\u2019s Your Never Alone with a Schizophrenic (1979). Roy Thomas Baker said, \u201cYou have the talent to be a good producer.\u201d But I was shy of the position, because I\u2019ve always liked engineering more than producing. I didn\u2019t like the responsibility of being a producer because you had to deal with a lot of record company bullshit. I ran into that very situation while working producing April Wine. After we completed First Glance (1978), we started Harder Faster (1979). At one point during the bedtracks the Capitol Records\u2019 brass from Los Angeles decided to pop in and they were acting like assholes. While we were doing the bedtracks they were saying things like, \u201cMake it sound like The Knack.\u201d At the time \u201cMy Sharona\u201d was Capitol Records\u2019 biggest hit. Ohhh, I was mad and told them off. One of them said, \u201cWell, you\u2019ll never work in this town again.\u201d I said, \u201cI hope not, Morin Heights a small town. He yelled, \u201cLOS ANGELES!\u201d I answered, \u201cI don\u2019t live in L.A. so PISS OFF!\u201d Of course, later I received the concerned call from the powers that be.<\/p>\n

Yet in spite of that confrontation you continued to accept the roll of engineer\/producer on future projects. Roy Thomas Baker provided a pivotal influence on your career. Can you give an example of his \u201canything that\u2019s worth doing is worth overdoing\u201d approach to sound?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Yeah, there\u2019s a trick I learned from Roy Thomas Baker. If there were a four-part harmony we would create twelve tracks of each by recording the same thing over and over again. Then take those twelve tracks, invert the phase on every other, and then \u2013 because we were working within the limitations of analog \u2013 bounce those down to each of the four parts. In the end we would have four tracks each comprised of twelve bounced tracks. The phase relationship that was created in each bounced track gave the vocals a unique character. He called the sound \u201cGassy Vocals\u201d because it sounds airy.<\/p>\n

You\u2019ve told me a few stories of Roy Thomas Baker\u2019s extravagance.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Oh yeah, he was very extravagant. He would listen to playback so loud even I would have to walk out. He sat in a Lazyboy chair in front of the console with an ice bucket and champagne \u2013 always Dom Perignon. He made really good records and he was a great engineer. His career was similar to my own, in that he was an engineer that became a producer; whereas a lot of producers are musicians who become producers. He knew he had a sound, but he knew that it wouldn\u2019t last forever. When I worked with Phil Ramone on Chicago 13 (1979), he was the one that told me that you always have to diversify. And I\u2019ve been lucky because I\u2019ve had the opportunity to record everything from Hard Rock and Heavy Metal to Classical records with orchestras. I\u2019ve learned how to survive. I can go and record a Jazz date, then an orchestral session followed by a heavy metal project.<\/p>\n

Phil Ramone must have hired you because your contribution to the Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack (1977) \u2013 arguably one of the biggest dance records ever produced \u2013 yet, in spite of that association you\u2019ve been in demand for hard rock recordings most of your career.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: After that record was made I had so many phone calls to do disco records, but I refused them because I didn\u2019t want to become typecast. It\u2019s weird how one\u2019s career evolves: After I\u2019d accepted the offer to do Perfect Strangers (1984), the Rolling Stones asked me to engineer a record. We were into the third day of bed tracks in Stowe when I got the call from the Stones, but they couldn\u2019t wait for me to finish Deep Purple\u2019s project. At that time Robert Palmer and then Roxy Music called as well. I had all three offers at that time. There were more offers, but I wouldn\u2019t back out on the band. I couldn\u2019t go up to Roger Glover and the boys and say, \u201cI\u2019m leaving.\u201d Who knows how my career would have been affected by those offers. I\u2019ll never know, but I had a hard time sleeping that night after the Stones called because they were one of my favourite bands. I remember they called on a Wednesday and asked if I was ready to start on Monday\u2026 in Paris.<\/p>\n

Anyway, that\u2019s the way this business works. Similarly, we didn\u2019t know that Saturday Night Fever was going to be such a huge record. We were doing Children of the World (1976) and Robert Stigwood came to the studio with a script and told the boys to read it. Everybody thought it was a piece of shit: A guy who works in a paint store and wants to dance in a disco in Bensonhurst?<\/p>\n

When you put it like that the story sounds pretty dry.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah. Robert asked them to write a song, which became \u201cYou Should Be Dancing.\u201d<\/p>\n

You once mentioned that they started the sessions down at Criteria Studios in Florida and then came up to Canada, switching studios for tax reasons.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: At that time they couldn\u2019t work in England because they had terrible tax laws for artists. If you earned over a certain amount you were taxed 80-90%, and they would assume if you made a million dollars you made a million dollars every year. What they didn\u2019t realize was that if you made a million dollars on a record or book it was probably the only thing you\u2019ve ever done. In England, I think they still have a law named for Brendan Behan, who was a famous writer, poet and a terrible drunkard. He wrote one novel that made him millions. The government taxed him to the point where he was broke, desolate and living on the street. Subsequently, there were many in parliament who thought that it was disgusting. So now, if you\u2019re a writer or a painter or sculptor you\u2019re not taxed the same way. U2 took advantage of that law by earning millions of dollars tax-free. England has changed the laws and many artists have returned because of the new tax laws.<\/p>\n

Anyway, Canada was the only option for the Bee Gees. They\u2019d been in the States for too long and they were going to be taxed. They heard about Morin Heights, came up and they stayed.<\/p>\n

How long were they there?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Five months. There were three engineers in total and two engineers were also the producers. Karl Richardson was one producer\/engineer, and Albhy Galuten was the second producer and I was the third engineer. Literally, it was the three of us who handled the board for mixing because Le Studio had no automation. I handled the bass and drums; Karl handled the instrumentation and Albhy controlled all the vocals. It was a great session that was mixed on the Trident A console.<\/p>\n

What tracking occurred up at Le Studio?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Everything from bedtracks to overdubs.<\/p>\n

So the tracks that were written after they read the script were recorded in Morin Heights and the rest of the tracks on Children of the World (1976), like \u201cJive Talking,\u201d were done down in Florida.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Yeah, at Criteria. The process was a mixture of both studios. They did some of the tracks at Criteria and then they redid some of the tracks at Morin Heights for continuity of sound. Though at one point, they almost left Le Studio because our reverb, the EMT plates didn\u2019t sound like the Criteria EMT plates, which were a lot warmer sounding. I had conditioned the EMT plates in our place to make them sound more British because we had a lot of British bands. Roy Thomas Baker liked the cold icy kind of reverb. They said, \u201cWell, if you can\u2019t get that straight we\u2019re going to leave. We\u2019re going to go back to Criteria or find some place in Toronto.\u201d I was determined to keep their business so I stayed up all night with headphones and I listened to every record I had from Criteria to listen to the reverb. Then I went back at 5am, put a graphic EQ onto the reverb and as I listened to the reverb on my headphones \u2013 I took the records with me \u2013 I EQ\u2019d it with more bottom end, took the middle off, and so on. So the next day when they arrived and started working and when they heard the new reverb they said, \u201cThat\u2019s better than the Criteria reverb.\u201d I said, \u201cWell, I want you guys to stay. I\u2019d be really lonely without you guys.\u201d They all gave me a hug.<\/p>\n

How far into the project were you when that occurred?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Two months. You know, they had been complaining about the reverb not being correct, but after that they decided to stay. With an important client like that leaving it wouldn\u2019t have made us happy at all.<\/p>\n

The rhythm tracks on that record have a deep groove. <\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: I learned a lot from those two producers. A lot about tight bottom end for that kind of music, you know R&B, the American sound. I learned a lot about American sound.<\/p>\n

There is a real difference, especially in the bottom end.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yeah, you know the tightness of the drum kit is different than the British approach, which is fatter and slightly bigger. The New York sound is tight. I programmed these drums for this smooth jazz record and since their music reminds me of a Steely Dan arrangement, I wanted to make the drums sound as if Steve Gadd was playing them. A simple hi-hat, kick and snare pattern, but it sounds like Steve Gadd. They were programmed, but they sound real.<\/p>\n

I was fortunate to learn from some of the best American producers. As an apprentice at Decca I learned the British method of engineering sound, which was different from the American approach, because we EQ\u2019d at the source; whereas when Karl got the drum sounds, there was almost no EQ at all. They would work on the drums themselves and microphone placements. In England, the thinking was \u201cI\u2019m going to change the drum sound anyway, so I\u2019m going to make it sound how I want it to sound right now.\u201d In the 50s & 60s the Brits sound was more hi-fi than the Americans, but that difference doesn\u2019t exist anymore because everyone is using the same gear and the same format; plus, today many engineers trigger the drums and add the same generic drum samples. Another difference in the old sound was that American drummers tuned the drums differently than the British drummers. In those days the American drummers would take the bottom skins off the toms; whereas, in Britain they would leave them on. So Americans would get this different sound, particularly for R&B. Anyway, in the bed sessions with the Bee Gees we used dynamic microphones like the RE20s, SM57 for the snare, 87s for the top.<\/p>\n

With the bottom heads removed wouldn\u2019t the engineer mic the toms underneath or inside the shell?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Yes, both, but I always miked it from the top to get more tone. Inside the shell it would sound a little more tubular. Also the R&B drummers would set up the snare with the Memphis sound; the pitch was lower and they\u2019d put their wallets or whatever on the head.<\/p>\n

That brings me to another point concerning Canada, the States and for that matter the world; the unfortunate thing with Canada is that Canada has no sound. There\u2019s no such thing as a Vancouver sound or a Toronto sound. There might be such as thing as an east coast sound because of the Celtic influences, but that makes no difference to popular music. In America, for instance, there was the Kansas City sound. You can tell the difference in sound from Chicago and New York to New Orleans to LA, San Francisco, Seattle, Memphis and Nashville. I mean you can place the music in a setting. For instance, if I\u2019m doing a blues album I can ask a band, \u201cWhere do you want to go? Where do you want the music to live?\u201d With the Tommy Z album it was Memphis; we had Memphis horn styles, the snare was flapping in the wind, the playing was \u201cMemphis\u201d with everyone playing on the shady side of the beat, you know? Just a little laid back. You have to put it into a perspective of where you are.<\/p>\n

Some bands sound uptight. Everybody is on top of the beat. Everyone\u2019s anticipating the next change whereas the American roots music approach is, \u201cSo I\u2019m a little late on the downbeat.\u201d And every region has its own unique take on the timing around the beat. That\u2019s what jazz is about too. If everybody hits the downbeat precisely there\u2019s a smaller sound. If everybody hits on a little flam it makes the music sound fat and wide, particularly with a big band. That\u2019s the difference between Count Basie, Duke Ellington and Lawrence Welk\u2019s sound; Lawrence Welk sounds like some kind of uptight machine; Guy Lombardo too. \u201cWhite\u201d people like that. Guy Lombardo made a fortune, but his music was straight as an arrow. Whereas Dorsey and Miller, those guys swung. The best one was Les Brown and His Band of Renown out of Los Angeles, particularly when they had a young 18-year-old Doris Day singing. That\u2019s the West Coast Big Band sound; laid back and swingin\u2019.<\/p>\n

Engineering and production are not just combinations of technology and sound. They involve so many compilations of elements encountered during one\u2019s career that you have to make an effort to understand each form that you\u2019re working in: the personalities involved, the environment where you work, the equipment that you\u2019re using and the picture that you want to have at the end of it all. It\u2019s the same with film directors. Film directors must already have a picture of the final product, but their job is even more stupendous because they have to deal with a large crew, cameramen and actors. The elements of the movie are created in bits and pieces; whereas in music you record a song and that\u2019s the song. But imagine recording a song\u2019s chorus first because you\u2019re in an environment that allows it. They almost never film a movie by following the storyline from beginning to end. They make a movie in non-linear bits and pieces.<\/p>\n

In music it\u2019s a little more linear, but at the same time you have to create this kind of magic. The problem we\u2019re having today in the digital mode is artists don\u2019t understand that. The reason why music sales are down is that the public knows why they don\u2019t like some kinds of music. They may not give you or know a reason, but I can see\/hear what\u2019s wrong with it. They start with a click track; they start with drums first. The guy plays the song as he\u2019s learned it. Then the bass player comes and puts bass on it; and then the guitar player comes and puts the guitar on it. Whereas in the old days you put the whole band in one room; everybody looks at each other; and everybody feeds off the energy from each other playing the song. That\u2019s how great records are done.<\/p>\n

So a good sound begins with a good recording of the rhythm section playing together, but I\u2019ve heard engineers\u2019 mixes that have wrecked the feel of the song in spite of good bedtracks. I\u2019ve also heard mixes you\u2019ve done that have saved the feel of the song.
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Thanks, Ted. I\u2019ve done it many times. It\u2019s injecting a feel into it. You have to imagine that you\u2019ve just recorded the band live and sometimes the difficulty is trying to figure out what to put in it. Whether I play it myself or use someone else, I normally put a shaker in it. Sometimes what I do to loosen up the feel is I replace the hi-hat track with a shaker.<\/p>\n

The hi-hat is there, but the shaker is on top of it.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: Sometimes I take the hi-hat away totally. People don\u2019t notice it\u2019s missing because it\u2019s just part of the feel, but with the shaker it feels wider. With modern technology I have a thing called Drumagog so I\u2019ll take a hi-hat and replace it with a shaker. But, most of the time, I\u2019ll take a shaker or a tambourine and create a feel myself, and record it live.<\/p>\n

Phil Ramone taught me about feel. In the old days, if you weren\u2019t using a click, and the song was speeding up approaching the chorus you put a rhythm guitar playing half time and then you\u2019d play it full time in the chorus and visa versa if it slows down you\u2019 play double time.<\/p>\n

If it slows down in the chorus\u2026 if the tempo physically slows down?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nick: You have one guitar playing a part in the chorus and it slows down. You try and grab it and then you add another guitar in the background playing half time. And all of a sudden it evens out the perception to the human ear. So that\u2019s a trick we used to use.<\/p>\n

In the old days there were a lot of people who didn\u2019t like using click-tracks. So what we did was hire the right drummer; players like Steve Gadd and all those other great studio drummers. If you started a click at the beginning of a song, at the end of the song the tempo was exactly the same. The drummer was the traffic manager. He was the one who kept the beat. So that\u2019s why those guys were in great demand and demanded great money because they were solid. Tempo issues are why, in the 60\u2019s, and to some degree in the 70\u2019s, when the band came in to the studio, the band didn\u2019t play. Like the Beach Boys using the Wrecking Crew. In New York they had Tony Levin and Steve Gadd. You know the New York Mafia; David Spinoza on guitar, Hugh McCracken on rhythm guitar. These guys were hired constantly because their timing was impeccable. They didn\u2019t need the click and consequently the feel was amazing. They could keep the groove right on the button. They were masters of time. When producers decided that the band needed to be used, you know good or bad, well then the click came in.<\/p>\n

You have to learn how to work with a musician\u2019s performance capability. So overdubbing bedtracks is probably the easiest way for most producers to proceed. Having said that, can you take a moment and explain your approach to mic\u2019ing a band for bedtrack session?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Every microphone is like the lens of a camera. But I\u2019ve already explained to you how turning the mic preamp all the way down and fader all the way up reduces the size of the mic\u2019s field.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s how you can create discrete tracks recording bands live off the floor?
\n<\/strong>
\nNick: Yeah, I do it with very little spill. For example: If I\u2019m talking into this microphone and I have the mic preamp all the way down and the fader all the way up while you\u2019re over in the corner talking, the mic won\u2019t hear you that much or not at all. Even at this distance. However, if I had the microphone preamp up and the fader down to match the same level this microphone could probably hear a pin drop in the next room. It\u2019s like setting your depth of field with the F-stop on a camera lens.<\/p>\n

If I\u2019m recording drums the snare mic is right on the snare, and I have its preamp all the way down, very little hi-hat leaks into the snare mic. People are always commenting that they can hear the hi-hat over here. Whereas many of the records you hear today it\u2019s just a mush. A lot of the times when I mix a record, the hi-hat track they give me is louder than the snare track, because the guy had the hi-hat mic\u2019s preamp all the way up.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve noticed records being made in Studio One at Metalworks and, you know what it\u2019s like, you hear three hours of kick drum and two hours of snare and then they only listen to eight bars of the drums as a set. Or they record four bars of drums and copy\/paste it so that becomes the verse. Or do four bars of chorus and copy that to make eight bars. And then they use a thing called Beat Detective on ProTools. No wonder a lot of the records today sound stiff. Producers are becoming so anal. They think that if you\u2019re using the right material it has to be perfect. Therefore they depend on the machines instead of their instincts for their input. T-Bone Burnett is an example of a good producer, he\u2019s a musician as well, but he doesn\u2019t use clicks. He produced that album with Robert Plant and Allison Krause. There\u2019s another album out there of duets featuring Yo\u00a0Yo Ma with Allison Krause, with James Taylor and other famous artists. It\u2019s live off the floor; nothing overdubbed. So in some circles the trend in the production process is returning to capturing complete performances.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s always a backlash in bad work ethics. The problem with that process is the fact that many bands are so bad you can\u2019t capture a good feel when the band plays together. In spite of that fact, I use the band for tracking as much as is possible. When a band is in the studio I try to record bass, drums and guitar at the same time. And if the guitar player is not playing very well, then I have to conclude they don\u2019t have their sound together.<\/p>\n

The light that comes on for me every time is the song. If the song is bad I have a really hard time engineering. I can deal with bad musicians to a point and I can deal with bad singers to a point. Nowadays it\u2019s a lot easier to deal with bad singers because we have the tools. In those days you didn\u2019t have the tools. You really had to have the person sing until they got the right notes. There were constant punch-ins and there were only twenty-four tracks on one machine so it was tough. Sometimes we spent days doing vocals.<\/p>\n

But, the light only comes on, and it still happens today, when the song is good. That\u2019s what I look for. That\u2019s been the case with most successful recordings. There\u2019s a difference between finding a good song and finding a commercial song. You\u2019re lucky if you can find a song that\u2019s both. I\u2019ve engineered a lot of records that weren\u2019t good songs, but they were hits because a hit is also a matter of being at the right time and place for that song.<\/p>\n

Anyway, that\u2019s a brief look, for now, at my conception of music and how it sits. You know, for me, nothing\u2019s changed. I still have the same view of making records. The tools change and so does technology. When I arrived in this industry, they were just changing from round dials to faders. The old guys couldn\u2019t stand the faders. I didn\u2019t like the pots, so I went for the fader.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Nick Blagona is an extraordinary engineer\/producer with an impressive list of credits. If it were the practice of the music industry to mention the technicians who worked recording sessions in the 1960s, his list of credits would be even longer. In the following interview, Nick provides insight into a life dedicated to music and technology. Onwards, from his first four-track analog tape session with Tom Jones, to when he assumed ownership, and took over the role of chief engineer, at Le Studio in Quebec, Nick\u2019s career has evolved alongside the technological changes of the recording industry. Throughout this interview, Nick unpacks an implicit understanding of sound engineering and music production garnered from professional experiences in Britain, Canada, and the United States. His stories reveal how a natural affinity with sound and music has allowed him to make great recordings by adapting engineering\/production processes in response to the demands of artistic diversity, communication media, and industrial change. He describes insight gained from producers Tom Dowd, Phil Ramone and Roy Thomas Baker, and from working with the likes of Deep Purple, Nazareth, Cat Stevens, The Bee Gees, and The Police. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":8,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[60],"tags":[5],"class_list":["post-812","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articles-editorials-provocations","tag-interviews","author-ted-peacock"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/812","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/8"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=812"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/812\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1787,"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/812\/revisions\/1787"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=812"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=812"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.arpjournal.com\/asarpwp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=812"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}