by brinstar » Thu Oct 18, 2012 1:26 am
more time to type now. gonna wax a bit philosophical on music here, for anyone who cares to read what might end up being a longpost.
yes, you definitely "get it" sir. in a good, well-rehearsed rock band (and i am only being specific here about rock because that is the musical dialect i speak best) there is a certain fury that i think can only come from the adrenaline generated by playing music you believe in together with people you trust and respect. the vehemence, conviction, and passion with which you play in such a situation is very very difficult to duplicate in a studio setting, because in most cases the recording process itself is foreign - and even maybe hostile - to that type of collective synergy.
as an example, here is a rough overview of the recording process we used to make the Black Cohosh album, which is a common and widespread approach:
1. all four of us are sequestered in different rooms, isolated from each other sonically (and often visually), so that the mic(s) on each instrument picks up as little as possible from other instruments.
2. these mics are fed into a central mixing board, which then sends a signal back out to the headphones we each wear so we can hear each other play.
3. we play a song together - sonically isolated as we are - as many times as it takes until the band as a whole (especially me, as the drummer) is satisfied with MY performance.
4. the tape is rewound, and Nick's original ("scratch") track is deleted.
5a. Nick then plays his bass part as many times as it takes until the band as a whole (especially Nick) is satisfied with his performance.
5b. if Nick's performance is flawed in one easily-isolated spot, the tape is then rewound and the engineer only "arms" the track to record over the bad part.
5c. repeat 5b until all of Nick's part are recorded as ideally as possible.
6. Jason's original guitar part is deleted; repeat steps 4-5 until Jason's guitar part(s) is satisfactory.
7. Alex's original viola part is deleted; repeat steps 4-5 until Alex's viola part(s) is satisfactory.
8. repeat steps 4-5 for Jason's guitar solo(s), Alex's viola solo(s), or whatever else the specific song requires.
9. repeat steps 4-5 for my percussion parts (i.e. tambourine, shaker) if the song calls for such. (the intro of Home for the Trenches actually layers SIX individual snare drum tracks lol)
10. this process is identical for each and every composition.
11. all finished tracks are mixed together for ideal balance and equalization by the engineer/producer, taking into account opinions of the band. sometimes this step can be contentious.
12. sometimes during step 11, performance flaws are uncovered. the band decides whether to live with these flaws, or to backtrack to earlier steps to correct these flaws.
13. the engineer/producer and the band reach final consensus on the result.
14. the songs are then "mastered" - meaning volume discrepancies between songs are normalized into a congruous body of work.
15. press, duplicate, package.
the above process, although somewhat simplified, is how most modern recordings are created (imagine how many steps are added for a Tool album - or, for that matter, a Beyonce single). as you can see, the cohesive sound you hear when the band plays together is broken down, dissected, and almost entirely replaced with "ideal" takes. but there is definitely a trade-off. except in the best instances, that furious collective synergy i mentioned above is dismantled and replaced in exchange for, in a word, idealism. the modern recording process allows us to surgically remove as many errors and flubs as we can detect, but at the cost of cohesion and momentum.
when playing live, on the other hand, a careful ear should be able to pick out a sharp note on Alex's viola lick, an unsavory fingerboard rattle on Nick's bass part, Jason slipping out of key during a solo, or me misfiring on an ill-conceived drum fill. you hear US, warts and all. but what you also hear - and nod yo head to - is us truly playing together, us howling through a complicated speed-metal passage with furious precision, us literally feeling each other's notes and feeding off them. you also hear how the crowd's enthrallment (the feedback loop you mentioned) juices us up and makes us hit harder, groove sweeter, jam tighter.
this is why it's my personal philosophy that recording and performing are actually completely separate arts. modern recording technology allows for the exploration of musical compositions and themes all the way out to whatever end the artist(s) can dream up; artists can (and IMO should) therefore ignore the limitations (personnel and otherwise) of live performance while recording, because their ultimate duty belongs to the songs themselves, not the songs' faithful reproduction on stage. many would agree with me, but many others disagree - my philosophical opponents believe it is dishonest to put forth recordings that are impossible to recreate live. i respect that opinion - truly and deeply i do! - but i must disagree all the same.
the last aspect of live performance versus recorded performance is perhaps much more obvious to non-musicians than it is to musicians, and is one i count as further evidence that they are indeed separate arts: live performance, necessarily, includes more than just a sonic element. it is a feel, a presence. a summation of what is heard, what is felt, and what is seen. if you could imagine the best case scenario, in which our album sounds exactly as unified and cohesive as our live performance (sans mistakes, even), you still would not get the same effect from listening to it on your ipod. it's physical! hooked up to a proper PA system, Nick's upright bass buzzes the legs of your jeans. you feel my kick drum thump your ribs. you could even venture into the physics of sound - each instrument's sonic output meshes with (and is thus changed by) the other three instruments. even more importantly, you watch us sway and at times even convulse along with our notes and rhythms. the observant might even catch glimpses of passionate fury write large on our faces.
none of this can be represented by a recording, nor does it come easily.
ironically, i credit our decision to make an album for our vastly-improved performance quality - in the six weeks leading up to our recording session, we quadrupled our rehearsal schedule.
compost the rich