
My Take on Music Recording with Doug Fearn
My Take on Music Recording with Doug Fearn
How We Learn Audio Engineering
If you are working as a recording engineer, how did you learn your craft? A formal recording program? As an intern with an accomplished engineer? Or maybe you figured it out on your own.
All are valid ways to get started. Many successful engineers used more than one approach.
In this episode, I look at the various approaches, their pros and cons, and suggest ways that you might further your own education.
Learning the art of recording requires time and effort -- and some innate talent. The key is to find the ways to develop your talent and keep on learning and growing.
By the way, this is the 100th episode of My Take On Music Recording. It has taken over four-and-a-half years to reach that mark, but it seems like I just started. Each episode has been a lot of work, but I have enjoyed creating every one of them. Thanks for helping me to achieve this milestone.
email: dwfearn@dwfearn.com
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100 How We Learn Audio Engineering December 28, 2024
I’m Doug Fearn and this is My Take on Music Recording
How did you learn the art of music recording?
There are several different ways to educate yourself to be a recording engineer, each with advantages and disadvantages. Different people need different ways to learn optimally.
In this episode, I want to talk about those various approaches. Perhaps you will find something useful, or, better yet, help someone starting out.
Traditionally, engineers learned the skills by working as an apprentice, or intern, at an established commercial recording studio, under the supervision of an accomplished engineer. There are still opportunities to learn that way, but not nearly as many as there were 30 years ago when the only place music was recorded was in a professional studio.
Back in those days, someone who had a passion for music recording would show up at a studio and ask if they could learn. The positions were generally unpaid – at least until the trainee got to the point where they could work with paying clients.
At my studio, back in those days, I had a steady stream of would-be engineers. I quickly learned how to weed out the star-struck wannabees from those who were willing to put in the time and effort to actually learn enough to be successful.
I would start an interview by telling them that they were going into a multi-year apprenticeship program. I told them that it would take that long for them to get to the point where they might be able to handle a session on their own.
I had to take that approach because my studio was working with high-end clients, mostly record labels, and I could not afford to take a chance on someone who might make a serious mistake. The reputation of my studio was on the line.
That eliminated a lot of people right away.
Would it really take that long? Well, someone with talent and commitment might be good enough in a year or two to be useful in my business. I had several engineers who started that way and became very good at it.
I also told the prospect that making a living in our business was comparable to being a professional athlete. Many people want to play sports, but only the top ones are ever going to make a living doing it.
That eliminated another percentage.
Finally, I told them that they would start out mostly observing. And they would be doing some of the jobs in the studio that weren’t very glamorous, like cleaning up or going out to pick up a lunch order.
After a while, they might have an opportunity to place some microphones or participate in other basic duties of an engineer. I told the prospect how much those microphones cost and how dropping one would invariably lead to an expensive repair bill. And I did have a couple of interns who dropped mics and cost me money.
I didn’t really want to paint such a bleak picture, but I wanted to screen out those that weren’t willing to do the things that were necessary. I didn’t want people who were just interested in the glamour – if there ever is anything glamorous about what we do.
And I explained to them that during a session is rarely a good time to ask questions. They would have to wait until the session was over, or there was an extended break, and then be concise with their questions. I told them I would tell them everything they needed to know, and my other engineers would do the same. We wanted them to be successful.
So how many of these people actually got a paying job at my studio? Probably no more than a dozen over the years. Most lost interest when they saw what was really involved.
I can think of only a couple of those people who are still working in the music business. The reality is that for most people, it is not a great way to make a lot of money.
The job does require someone who is passionate about translating the music made in a studio into an effective recording. It was that commitment that I was looking for in the engineering interns I took on.
The days of apprenticeship learning are almost entirely gone now. Today, anyone with a couple of thousand dollars can set up a rudimentary studio that is capable of professional-sounding results. Back when I started, in the 1960s, there was no such thing as “entry-level” recording equipment. Professional equipment was all there was, and it was expensive. That was a barrier to most people interested in creating their own recording studio.
Many people now read a few articles or watch some YouTube videos, and have a rudimentary idea of what is involved. They may have friends who have set up their own studio and they can learn from what they did. And lucky individuals get to work with someone really good at this and learn much more quickly.
I was entirely self-taught. I never set foot in another recording studio until several years after my studio was in business and making money. How did I do it? Well, there was no internet of course. I learned by reading everything I could get my hands on. The trade magazines from that era which much more technical than those today. I knew electronics, and I knew what I wanted things to sound like. It was just a matter of researching and experimenting. I also learned by listening carefully, and analyzing, recordings I bought.
There was nothing available that told you what mic to use or where to put it. I had to figure those things out myself. Same with keeping a tape machine working properly, or cutting lacquer discs, or doing a mix.
Learning on your own is still an option for those people who learn that way. There is something about trying to figure out how to do something on your own that cements that knowledge into your brain better than if someone simply tells you how to do it. It also fosters creative approaches. If you don’t know what you are doing, you are going to make a lot of mistakes.
Most of your experiments will fail, but you will learn why something doesn’t work. Or you will come up with your own way of doing things that could be unique. If it fits your style and serves the music well, then it is good.
I did a quick poll of some of the engineers I know to get a sense of how they did it. These are people making their living entirely from their engineering skills. I admit that most of them are older, but not all. My list includes a wide age range, from early 20s to 70s and even 80s. And what I found surprised me: almost all of them were self-taught. They learned their craft by simply doing it, over and over, just about every day until they figured out how to get the sound they wanted.
A few of them got entry level jobs at a big studio and learned all they could before they went out on the their own. Others were mentored by successful engineers who recognizes their talent and attitude.
Some of the younger engineers went to recording programs, but they tell me they learned mostly by doing it on their own, often while still in school.
I think that is more of a reflection on the passion for the job these people had. It does not mean that recording schools were not helpful to them. It is like any education. It only gets you started. You ultimately have to teach yourself.
Most people today learn about recording from a structured university program. Those did not exist back when I started out, and would have distracted me from making my studio profitable. But for those who learn best in a classroom setting, the recording programs have been valuable.
I do not know much about how the current educational programs are structured, but I do have friends who teach part-time in university programs. And I have certainly encountered many graduates of those programs, mostly as customers who buy the hardware products I designed. Or current interns in my studio.
What you get out of the educational program depends on the amount of work you put into it. And the quality of the program also matters.
But most of all, the innate talent of the student is the most important factor. Some people are naturals. They get the concepts right away. They know what music should sound like, and they learn how to achieve the results they want.
Mastery of the techniques is probably the easiest part of the process. That’s just the baseline for starting a career.
The successful engineers always bring something more to the art. Often, it’s a lot more, like developing new approaches to achieving the sound they want.
But even with the innate talent, mastery of the techniques, and a creative approach will not guarantee success.
One thing I have observed in successful engineers is their amazing people skills. They can instantly relate to anyone they meet. They can put people at ease in what might be a stressful situation for a performer. They understand the creative mind. They build a rapport with the people they are working with.
That is something that cannot be taught, but a mentor can help an intern enhance those skills. But if you don’t like relating to other people, a job as a recording engineer is probably not for you. Even if your main interest is in mixing or mastering, you still have to interact with clients. The engineers who are good at social relationships are the ones that excel.
If someone is simply fascinated with the shiny equipment and complex software, they are unlikely to last for long in the recording world.
And they need a passion for music. Ideally, they have a solid music education and play an instrument. Or lots of instruments. They may not be a very good player, but they understand the challenges of an instrument.
My only formal musical education occurred when I was 12 years old. My father arranged for a fellow Philadelphia Orchestra player to teach a solfege class. Solfege is the art of sight-reading music and singing the notes. I didn’t really enjoy the class, mostly because I was terrible at singing. But I was very good at hearing intervals and harmonies, and I could tell if a note was even slightly out of tune.
Early in my recording career, I bought a guitar and had some good players I worked with taught me the fundamentals of playing. I was never great, but I did understand how the instrument worked, its challenges, and some of the simpler techniques.
I did that with every instrument I could get my hands on. I was fortunate to work with excellent musicians who indulged my interest in their instrument. Several loaned me practice instruments and gave me a few short lessons to get me started. You will surely appreciate the skill it takes to get a violin to sound good if you have one in your hands and work to just get an acceptable-sounding note out of it.
I wanted to learn more about how the sound was produced by an instrument. Where did the sound emanate? It’s not always where you think. How far away do you have to be before the complete sound of the instrument is heard? It can be farther away than you would imagine. How loud is it? What is its frequency range? Not just the fundamental notes, but all the sounds the instrument makes.
All those things will become very helpful when it comes time to place a microphone to capture that instrument.
I studied textbooks from music theory courses. I taught myself how to read music, although never with any great skill. That came in handy during a string section overdubs when the arranger said to punch in on a certain measure in the score. I had the score in front of me and I could follow along and knew just where to punch.
I learned the fundamentals of musical keys, time signatures, and even the somewhat arcane way music with repletion is written to minimize the number of pages. I trained my ear to hear intervals and different chord voicings.
Was I competent in any of that? No, not really. I knew that to master those things you needed to be constantly learning and practicing. I did not have the time to master any of it. But I did learn enough to be able to communicate with musicians, arrangers, and producers. I understood the challenges they faced. I could speak their language, although not well.
I learned from working with arrangers. Often I would hear something in the arrangement that was not right – a wrong interval perhaps. If the arranger didn’t notice it, I would point it out to them. They were often grateful to have someone else catch these things. I could not have done that without the basic knowledge of harmony I had acquired.
That type of knowledge has served me in just about every session I have done.
In addition to guitar, I taught myself how to play bass, keyboards, and flute. I actually played on a few recordings for other people. But I never considered myself a musician. I worked with people who were some of the best in the world. My playing would never approach their level of artistry.
My quest to learn to play was halted when I was 30 and was hit head-on by a drunk driver late one night heading home from the studio. My left arm was broken in multiple places and even after surgery and years of physical therapy, I no longer had the required mobility to play any instrument. I regret that, but the skills I was beginning to learn still are useful to me every day.
I find that most engineers are also musicians who achieved some level of mastery of their instrument or voice. In fact, it seems like many of the current engineers see themselves primarily as musicians. They have learned the art of recording to facilitate their own music.
An engineer also has to actually love music. And not just their favorite music, but all music. Over the decades, I have recorded just about every genre of music. At first, some of it was foreign and I was uncomfortable with it. There was some music that simply had no appeal to me at all – at least initially.
I found the key was to try to understand the music and learn to appreciate it. That requires some focus. You have to understand the music and the sound of it if you are going to capture it well.
If you are working in a commercial recording studio, the musical quality of your clients will be all over the place. You will have to try to make someone who is not good at playing sound the best they can. That might mean using studio techniques to improve their playing. In the old days, that primarily meant punching-in on a tape machine. Today, you can do far more to salvage a bad performance using software tools.
Another thing I had to learn was self-preservation when working with bad players, or just bad music. Inside, I wanted to tell the client to just go home and practice for a few years and then come back. But you can’t do that. The recording session is extremely important to them. They may see it as key to their success in music. Their expectations are often higher than their ability would justify.
They may believe that you can make them sound like their idol when in reality they do not have the talent or skill to even get close to that. And that is a reality they have to discover for themselves. Telling them does not work, and it just alienates the client.
Good engineers are agreeable. They listen to what the musician or producer has to say and are willing to try to do what the client thinks he wants – even if they know it is not a good idea. I always tried the client’s idea first, and when that didn’t work, tactfully suggest another way. That’s much better than imposing your ideas on them from the start.
If you work with someone over a period of time, they will come to value your suggestions and trust your judgement. You work as a team, towards a common goal.
However, I have found that sometimes off-the-wall ideas from a musician actually work very well. Not only did they get what they wanted, but I learned something new that could be applicable to another situation.
Although I am using the terms “client” in this discussion, the same principles apply when you are working on your own projects, or functioning as the producer on a session.
The learning process never stops. I learn at least one new thing at every session. It might be that something I tired was a total failure, and that’s useful to know. Sometimes something that didn’t work in one situation might be useful in another context. Of course, you must always have a plan B to make sure the project is completed satisfactorily.
And sometimes you stumble across a new technique entirely by accident. I can think of many occasions when I used a mic on an instrument, usually during an overdub, that I would have otherwise never used. The mic just happened to be already set up, and to save time, I decided to give it a try. About 90% of the time, the mic I usually use was the better choice, but sometimes I am surprised. I have a new tool to use in similar situations. Usually, however, I learn that that mic and that instrument are not a good combination. That is almost always immediately apparent.
Your continuing education is not limited to what you try in a session. I find that listening to what other engineers record is often inspiring. I don’t want to duplicate what they did, but it did show me that there can be a different approaches that are effective.
I always ask myself if I would be proud of that sound if I achieved it. Often the answer is “no.” It sounds great when someone else does it, but it isn’t right for me.
We should all appreciate what others have done, while staying true to your own ideals.
Your education should not be limited to the sessions you are doing. We work in a technological pursuit, and understanding the technology is important if you want to keep advancing.
You may have software you use every day. You have learned how to make it do what you want, and the results are good. But are there other features in the software that could help you make the sound even better? Or make the workflow smoother?
I know it is not fun to read instruction manuals. But sometimes I will just skim through a manual, looking for something in particular, and discover some feature I never used. Or maybe I tried it but did not find it useful. Or perhaps I could not make it work as described.
But later, after I understood the software better, especially the logic behind how it is designed, the feature I thought was not useful turns out to be something that could be beneficial.
Most manuals for software are so poorly written that you are often better off just trying things on your own. A manual that just lists every menu item and describes each function is essentially useless when you need to figure out how to do something. A better approach to manuals would be to list the most common tasks and explain, step-by-step, how to do it. They could still list all the menu items and sub-menu items. But that menu-centric approach is not helpful when trying to make the software do what you want. The answer lies in multiple places, often hundreds of pages apart.
Why a manual has to have 900 pages with no explanation of how to do the simplest things is a mystery to me. I can only presume whoever wrote the manual never actually did a recording session.
Sometimes there is good information on line, created by someone who has figured it out. But you can waste a lot of time watching or reading bad information, or outdated information. I find the fastest way is sometimes just to try things until you figure it out. Practice on a copy of a session, just in case you make a tragic error. Not every function can be undone in most software.
And what about instruction manuals in general? Should you bother to read them?
Some simple equipment may not need a manual to get you started using a new piece of gear. But as someone who has written manuals for the products I designed, I know that just making a piece of gear work does not mean you are getting the most out of it.
In the manuals I write, I try to give people not only the “how” but also the “why.” The deeper the understanding you have, the more creative you can be with that device.
I also try to provide some general education in the manual, explaining, in simple terms, how the device works and why. That should be applicable to all similar devices. It’s simply useful background information.
Most of us do not have time to read a manual from cover to cover. We just need to get the equipment up and running as quickly as possible. But after I have used it for a while, I go back and re-read the manual. I find things that I did not know the equipment could do. Sometimes something that made no sense initially suddenly makes perfect sense when you read it later. Or I might gain a deeper understanding of how the gear or software works, and that can suggest new ways to use it.
Back when I started out, engineers had to understand at least the basics of electronics. Tape machines, for example, required daily maintenance and frequent repair. You had to understand how they worked, both electronically and mechanically, if you wanted the machine to work properly every day.
We don’t need that depth of knowledge today. Equipment has far fewer moving parts, and it is generally more reliable than it was in the tape era. But understanding the fundamentals of how our equipment works not only helps us when there is a problem, but it also suggests some novel ways to use the device in a more creative way.
You probably do not need to know how to repair your converter, for example. But if it develops a problem, it may help to know how it works in a general way. With that knowledge, you might be able to come up with a workaround, to keep your session going.
It used to be that professional studios needed a maintenance department to keep everything working. That’s not generally needed today, but having a shop where you can do some rudimentary trouble-shooting and minor repairs will save you money. And those skills you learn will give you ideas for how to use the equipment better, or even modify it to make it work better with your aesthetic.
Just being able to troubleshoot and repair mic and headphone cables will not only save you time and money, but it will give you confidence in their reliability.
I know the majority of engineers have no interest in learning the skills necessary to delve into their equipment on a component level. That has always been the case for most engineers. But the technical knowledge and ability is another way you can expand your engineering expertise.
After every session, I do a personal debrief to analyze what I did well, what I could have done better, and what mistakes I made. No session is perfect, but perfection is a worthy goal. I list every action I took and evaluate whether I could do that better next time. I don’t dwell on this process. It only takes a few minutes. But usually, I have ideas of how to do better next time. Every session should be better than the last. I do not want to ever get stuck doing the same thing over and over.
If I tried a different mic on an instrument or voice, I ask whether that was an improvement or not. If it was better, is there another mic that might be even better? That’s just one simple example, and in reality, everything is a system, not a single point. The mic chosen has to evaluated in the context of where the mic was placed, the instrument, the player, and, most importantly, how well it serves the music.
The music is always the prime consideration. Our job is to capture it in a satisfying and effective way for the listener. Every new thing we learn should push us closer to the goal of a perfect recording that conveys the emotion of the music the players are creating as perfectly for the listener as possible.
It should also please us. I find that if I can please the listener, I will be pleased also.
The more I know, the better I can do this job. I suspect the same applies to all of us. Never stop learning.
If you learned your skills a different way from the typical approaches I outlined, I would like to hear about it.
Thanks for listening, commenting, and subscribing. Your comments and suggestions are always valuable to me. Send me email. dwfearn@dwfearn.com
This is My Take on Music Recording. I’m Doug Fearn. See you next time.