It was in 1972 that Lincoln Mayorga, a pianist, composer, and conductor who had worked with the broad spectrum of easy-listening superstars (as well as the occasional rocker),decided to make his feelings a bit more public . He released Missing Linc, a record that was intended to be something of a subtle statement against stereophonic recordings. When the stereophonic recording (or stereo, as it was later abbreviated) was originally introduced in 1958, it held a promise to create a better quality of recording with sound more akin to that of a live performance. But it was a promise that had been left unfulfilled; stereo had essentially done the opposite of what it was intended to do. The creation of stereo required additional mixing and layering, a process that more often removed the realistic elements it was meant to preserve. For Missing Linc, Mayorga bypassed this by recording directly to both sides of the master disc, a process, that in retrospect, appears to be a tedious commitment to an ideal. The liner notes explained the logic behind Mayorga’s idea, citing among other things that he wished to avoid what “robs the finished record of presence and impact.”
Recording, by all means, is complex. When most bands are asked to describe the very basics of their recording process, the answer is long, drawn out, and frequently reaching fifteen minutes in length. The reason for this, though, is that like most things in music, recording is a process dictated by preference. Even though each band develops its own method, recording can most likely be broken down into three main components: the recording of the instruments, mixing and editing, and finally, mastering. What a band records onto, though, can also be a thing of preference. By now, most have been swayed into switching to the quality and ease that digital recording offers. There are some purists, in however dwindling their numbers are, who still record with tape. And what a band aims to achieve — the final aesthetic goal — is greatly varied. But like Mayorga, there is an aim to retain an exuberance in recordings, but this is something that can be achieved in different ways.
And this is the case for The Teeth and Dr. Dog. The two bands are frequently mentioned and grouped together, and it’s something done with fair enough reasoning. On the surface, all of the basic elements are the same: They share a hometown (Philadelphia), a record label (Park the Van), and have a sound that is closely related (but certainly different). But there are certainly differences in the two bands, and with the most obvious being their recordings. On albums, The Teeth are distinctly lush, while Dr. Dog are almost defiantly minimal.
In early June 2006, The Teeth headed to a warehouse in North Philadelphia to record a follow up to EP “Carry the Wood” (2005). Two weeks were set aside — cleared of the hassles of day jobs and other commitments — to work on the first full-length release since Send My Regards to the Sunshine (2003). The project began in January (announced on the band’s Myspace with a headline proclaiming “album being recorded, album being recorded, album”), but months later, The Teeth were still not close to tying ends. The untitled album (though, the name Deranged!!!!!!! is a persistent option) remains unfinished and, at last check before press time, the projected time for completion is around eight additional months. The album is expected to have an early 2007 release date.
While the album’s title might be subjected to a change, the direction for the new album is certainly cemented. Live, The Teeth are a high energy melange of yelps, yowls, and old-fashioned rock-and-roll enthusiasm. Recordings, while striking, never quite matched this. For the new release, though, The Teeth concentrated on retaining some of this without entirely mimicking the live show. It’s a challenge, but Peter MoDavis, the band’s bassist and singer, believed it’s something The Teeth had managed to figure out how to achieve especially for the “more rocking” songs.
For Dr. Dog, recording began earlier. In the Fall of 2005, the band began working on a full-length follow up to Easy Beat (2005) in addition to an EP intended to be a preceding release. If Dr. Dog’s previous releases are indications, then these new recordings will also be lo-fi, a quality that drummer Juston Stens tagged as “rinky dink.” More accurately, though, it could be a derivative of Dr. Dog’s desire to figure out and replicate the techniques used on much older recordings. For most, it’s a charming quality that instantly endears the band; for others, though, it’s a quality that can be repelling. But at Dr. Dog’s live show, it all evens out when both sides appreciate the much more traditional energy of the rock band onstage. It’s this sort of extreme divide that seems almost like a conscious decision to construct.
On the Pixies Reunion Tour, Stens was lucky enough to catch one of the dates. At the show, though, he was surprised by a song that initially sounded like a new addition to the band’s repertoire. “They were playing this song [and] I didn’t realize it was an old song I knew, but [it] had been broken down to be four times slower, playing it in a way that was really hard to figure out. But when I figured it out, it was great,” he said. It’s a practice also employed by Dr. Dog; while the band certainly plays the version of a song on the album for a period of time, it is often a fleeting period. A song is constantly changing and evolving, something that can be attributed to the fact that many Dr. Dog songs aren’t recorded for a considerable period of time (songs for both of the upcoming releases have existed for as long as two or three years) that can see the creation of as many as five extremely different versions.
Settle has been playing shows in the Northeast for half a decade. Based in the Lehigh Valley, the band is a hometown powerhouse, drawing sizable crowds at shows and constantly expanding their already strong following. But despite this small-scale success, the band remains unsigned to a label. Settle, for the most part, has managed without this, but sometimes, the lack of the financial backing a label provides makes managing a bit harder. To overstep this, most of Settle’s recordings are done at guitarist Nick Rose’s home (where the band also practices), but for some of the band’s bigger releases, they have preferred to venture into more upscale, larger recording studios. It was the case for a self-titled EP released last summer, which sold out of all twelve-hundred copies pressed as well shifting many digital copies on iTunes.
The recording of the follow-up EP (meant to pin down some of the newer songs) was originally slated for fall, though it may now even begin as early as August. However, the financing of this new venture won’t be as easy as originally planned. A high-paying gig in August that the band had planned on playing (as they had for the past two years) was given to another band, leaving Settle without the expected money for recording. But it’s not a deterrent; just as they have done in the past, Settle will manage. “We’re digging in between couch cushions to find the money to do this,” Rose said.
Sound the Alarm played many of the same Lehigh Valley show circuits as Settle, and while Settle is still hacking it out on their own, Sound the Alarm signed with Geffen Records before finishing senior year of high school. The band has been signed for a year now, a time that has been mostly spent in Los Angeles (where Sound the Alarm has an apartment) with the exception of a few visits back East for certain events. For their debut album, Sound the Alarm will be working with a big name producer (Howard Benson) in a high end studio (Base 7 Studios). Guitarist Brian Chiusano described the budget Geffen allotted for the album as “absurd,” but it is something that allows the band to do things that they otherwise would be financially unable to do. “If we want to add strings, we can hire somebody to do that. If we want a full chorus somewhere, we can get one,” Chiusano said.
Recording was to begin earlier, but Sound the Alarm required extra time to get the songs for the album ready for recording. Geffen did not push the band into the studio; the release date was instead set to a tentative February or March 2007 release date so Sound the Alarm had enough time to prepare for the studio. The time when the band wasn’t getting ready for recording was then spent playing, as Chiusano described it, “any and every” show in the L.A. area, from gigs at the Key Club and the Viper Room to much smaller venues that cater to their target fanbase. The summer months, beginning with the preproduction at the end of June, were set aside to complete the album.
Originally, The Teeth were going to finish their LP before April for release within 2006, but their work and tour schedules did not allow for this. “We would record after work, and we’d be really tired, so everything would just sound like shit,” MoDavis said.
Park the Van didn’t pressure The Teeth to turn in a finished product by the original date. Instead, The Teeth were instructed to continue working until they were satisfied. Of this sort of situation where a label may be torn between getting an album in stores or letting a band take its time, Chris Watson, who heads the label, said that “The Teeth have proven themselves. They came to me and said they needed more time, and I’d rather a band take the extra time to make something they like rather than just get something done.” The details of the new record are broken into a vague listing of adjectives, despite that recording is now moving faster with the completion of the two-week dedication. This uncertainty is because, unlike with “Carry the Wood” where the tracklist was a concrete six songs, the new release has a wide selection of songs considered for the final tracklist. And while “Carry the Wood” did require the same tedious work with the recording and then the re-recording (the song “Wake” is a strong example because of the two separate versions on the EP), it was much less overwhelming to focus on a smaller, more definite amount of songs.
Recording involves plenty of nit picking, and like anything with that amount of attention to detail, it’s frustrating. Often, studio time adds up to seven hours focusing on doing and then redoing the same things which inevitably strains performance. “When you’re doing things over and over like that, it’s going to start sounding shitty after a while,” MoDavis said.
On the day the interview was conducted with MoDavis, The Teeth had experienced some technological difficulty in the studio. The quiet parts of a song the band was working on were recording as loud, but the loud parts were recording as quiet. Like most things with technology, the reason remains unknown. For bands recording on their own, though, these types of small snags are common and are even expected.
In exchange for the small problems, bands get the freedom that only self-recording seems to offer. When bands develop their own methods of doing things the introduction of someone else interrupts the specific comfort of the schedule. The addition of a producer or the movement to a recording studio creates added pressure because these luxuries mean additional money. In turn, this additional money means constricted time in an effort to save money. Ideally, most would prefer their own recording space constructed in the basement of a house or as part of an existing practice space. It’s a matter of convenience: with an in-house recording space there is the option to work on a record at any time that appeals to bands. “If we were to get signed, we’d use the money to make a studio here [at the house],” Rose said. “That way, it can be like, if Dave [Goletz, guitarist] wants to lay down something he was working on, we can do that. Or it can be like, ‘Mike [Pizarro, lead singer and bassist], do you feel okay? Do you want to work on vocals?’”
Rock is constantly shifting to make changes, and bands, whether deliberate or not, frequently shift with it. Unlike live shows, records are a concrete documentation of the nuances in a sound that would otherwise go unnoticed from year to year. It’s a practice Watson encouraged, no matter the quality or the intended audience of the final outcome; instead, it’s usually the best way to pinpoint where a band is, as well as where a band wants to go in its sound.
In the case of more noticeable changes, like a lineup change, a recording can be instrumental in helping a band continue. In May 2003, Settle split with their singer, an event that caused many to assume the band was finished. To prove otherwise, Settle rushed to record what is now identified as the Red EP (coined because of the color on the label) with Pizarro as singer. Supplemented by a string of small gigs, the EP helped show that Settle would continue, perhaps even better than they had previously.
When The Teeth switched drummers — twice — previously, there were no immediate concerns to record in order to quiet any breakup rumors. But even without the pressure, The Teeth recorded soon after their third drummer, Jonas Oesterle, joined the band two years ago. It was a coincidence, however; The Teeth had already planned on recording when they acquired Oesterle. Instead of changing plans, the band recorded, and the subsequent recording (what eventually became “Carry the Wood”) served as a sort of welcome. “When you get a new member, you want them to feel like they’re in the band,” MoDavis said. “You want them to have their own album, too.”
Prior to June of 2005, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah was just another anonymous indie band based in Brooklyn and Philadelphia. But the internet community of bloggers, reviewers, and music distributors began to take notice of the quintet. Initially, it was because of the band’s unusual name; eventually, it was because of the band’s unusual sound showcased on their self-recorded and self-released debut album. By the end of June, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah were a certified buzz band and an internet-created success story.
More recently, though, attention has shifted to Arctic Monkeys. The Sheffield natives used a combination of blitzkrieg self-promotion techniques to get themselves heard with a strong focus on utilizing the internet. Besides being distributed at shows, demos were also placed on the internet via the band’s Myspace profile. On January 23, 2006, when the band released Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not in England, the fever sparked by the internet buzz was unprecedented. The album sold a record-breaking 360,000 copies in its first week, more than any other debut album in English history. It occupied the number one spot that week having sold more copies than the rest of the Top 20 album chart combined.
While Arctic Monkeys and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah may be extreme examples of internet-found success stories, it’s apparent that more bands are relying on the internet to get their music heard than more traditional methods. New bands are launched thanks to online community Myspace.com, and they have found a distribution partner in virtual record store iTunes where the most unknown artists can be found for only ninety-nine cents a song. This internet reliance puts a stress on having a recorded songs if only for the sake of posting MP3s.
This emerging change in how an upstart band can — and will be — heard is a change that the music industry has certainly noticed. It’s a new convenience for some bands who, otherwise, may not be able to be heard by a wider audience. And taking part in this internet music scene, which essentially creates an instant head count of who and what there fans are for most bands, is something that Watson observed as being beneficial. “Even with little technology knowledge, these bands can put a few songs on Myspace,” he said. “As for iTunes, it’s a great thing that lets bands get heard.”
And who’s hearing these bands isn’t limited; people of varying degrees of influence are able to tap into bands across the country who are located in places otherwise ignored. Such was the case for Sound the Alarm, who found much of their initial success through the internet. Before signing with Geffen, the small town band (who then went by the name Sleepwell) had worked on several songs with Rob Freeman (who has his own band on Drive Thru Records, Hidden in Plain View) in his New Jersey home’s studio. At the time, PureVolume.com was a strong force in internet distribution, and Sound the Alarm used the site to stream the songs from Freeman sessions. Patrick McDowell, the band’s current manager, serendipitously found the band through a random search, and impressed by the young band, he contacted them. A year later, the band had snagged a major label deal.
On the indie level, bands like The Teeth lack the capabilities to distribute a record to an extremely wide audience. Without touring, most bands’ releases would be left unheard and would never be shelved in most record stores. “At our level, like a lower level, I think it is more critical to tour. You don’t have the kind of distribution [to get heard by a wider audience],” MoDavis said, before thinking about the question again. “But somebody could make a really good album, and one person heard it, and it spread all out. That would work, too.”
It’s this dichotomy that could be the reason why Settle has used a combined technique to secure their wide-reaching fanbase. Earlier in the band’s career, a series of demos (most often four songs, but sometimes three) were offered at gigs, free, to anyone who wanted one. The tracks on the self-recorded demos changed in conjunction with the band’s current set list; the songs Settle played live were the ones featured on the demos. It was a smart tactic; the band was able not only to be heard at shows but also to be remembered long afterwards. “It was a good way to get [our music] out there. CDs cost eleven cents or something … to make and who knows how many of those things [demos] are around out there,” Rose said.
In 2007, Dr. Dog, Settle, Sound the Alarm, and The Teeth will all have new releases. The finished products will be void of the frustration experienced, and the hints of late nights and the traces of near-break-up-inducing fights will be absent. But what will be present is a final product of hard work aimed to put something in stereos (or, more appropriately, on iPods) that marks a band at a certain and at a certain place; the result of a tedious commitment to an ideal. It’s a process that MoDavis seemed to describe best: “Recording is like putting a puzzle together. That’s my analogy for it.”
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July 25th, 2006 at 1:25 pm
Very thorough in a good way