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LIVING SOUND Documentary about Ethel Gabriel

LIVING SOUND Documentary about Ethel Gabriel

A documentary film about the never-before-told story of Ethel Gabriel, a legendary record producer, and music executive.

Ethel Gabriel may be one of the most prolific music producers you’ve never heard of.

Despite having worked with some of the most legendary musicians of our time, her contributions to the music industry remain relatively unknown and largely uncredited.

It was only when she passed away in March 2021, at the age of 99, that Ethel Gabriel finally began to gain recognition for the more than 5,000 recordings she produced for RCA, as well as for earning 15 Gold records and a Grammy Award in 1983.

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A long-overdue tribute in The New York Times revealed her enormously successful five-decade career (“Ethel Gabriel, a Rare Woman in the Record World, Dies at 99”). The Washington Post called her a “trailblazing producer and executive at RCA Records” and NPR WXXI News in Rochester, NY covered Ethel reminiscing on her incredible career: “How could I forget Elvis?” she said. “I made him famous.”

Ethel Gabriel’s legacy includes convincing RCA to sign the young hip-swingin’ Elvis to RCA, helping to establish RCA’s famed Nashville Studio B, and producing some of RCA’s earliest mood music albums and early disco tracks.  Known as the “cool aunt” within her own family, she defied social, cultural, and gender roles in an era long before it was acceptable. She intended to study forestry in college, but women were locked out of the field at that time (the 1940s). Instead, she chose her other passion: music. As a student at Temple University (Philadelphia), Ethel started working for RCA in the record pressing plant. When she left the company nearly forty years later, she was RCA’s first woman executive at the label.

 WHERE WE’RE AT / WHERE WE’RE HEADING

We started production on our film in 2019–and we feel fortunate to have met Ethel Gabriel when she was 97 years old! Because of Alzheimer’s, some of her memories were fading, but her love of music and for her family was keeping her alive. As Ethel told us when we last visited, her music was still in her head.

We are the filmmaking team Caroline Losneck and Christoph Gelfand, and we are based in Portland, Maine. Together, we’ve directed films that have appeared in the New York Times, Camden Film Festival, Rooftop Films, Big Sky Festival, and more.

We’ve been learning and uncovering more about Ethel for almost three years now–ever since our Producer (and audio industry expert) April Tucker first learned about Ethel’s amazing career and story. She shared Ethel’s story with Karrie Keyes at SoundGirls and that’s how this film was born. SoundGirls established the Ethel Gabriel Scholarship Fund, which has been awarded to two students in 2019, 2020, and 2021.

Since 2019, we have interviewed music industry professionals including Leslie Ann Jones (Director of Music and Scoring, Skywalker Sound), who has her own connection to Ethel. We’ve also been honored to interview Terri Winston (Women’s Audio Mission), Producer/Mixer Chris Lord-Alge, Leslie Gaston-Bird (author, “Women in Audio”), Matthew Kelly & Tom Tierney of the Sony Archives, and many others. We have talked with friends, former RCA colleagues, and musicians who Ethel worked with throughout her career, including Warren Schatz (former RCA executive), singer/composer/producer Anne Phillips, tour manager Doe Phillips, and jazz pianist/composer Dick Hyman.

We’ve spent time with Ethel and her family, shared meals, laughed, cried and have enjoyed more than anything having the opportunity spend time with Ethel. We have full access to Ethel’s personal archives, thanks to her closest family (Ed and Nancy Mauro), and are honored to be trusted by Ethel’s family to tell her story.

We are also honored to have received Maine Arts Commission and Ellis-Beauregard Foundation grants. This allowed us to travel to the San Francisco Bay area for some filming in early 2020 before the pandemic began, and to do historical recreations, working with Maine actors and talent. Our film is part of the WOMEN MAKE MOVIES Production Assistance and Fiscal Sponsorship Program, which accepts donations for this film year-round!

WHAT WE NEED SUPPORT FOR

Caroline and Christoph are ready to go back out on the road for more key interviews, shooting, and digging into more archives. Next up is a Nashville trip to investigate Ethel’s role in the creation of RCA’s Studio B and learn more about her relationships with artists like Chet Atkins and Elvis, and her former boss, RCA legend Steve Sholes. We’ve also been invited to shoot more at the Sony Archives in New York City, and have friends and former colleagues ready to share their stories for the film.

KICKSTARTER FUNDING WILL IMMEDIATELY SUPPORT 

  • Costs to continue production in Nashville, TN; New York City, NY; Rochester, NY
  • Filming more re-creations in Maine (utilizing local actors + recording studios)
  • Helping us finish production, bringing us one step close to bringing the film to YOU!

WHY MAKE THIS DOCUMENTARY NOW?

Ethel’s story is more relevant now than ever. Recent studies, such as USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative’s “Inclusion in the Recording Studio?” reveal that only ~2.6% of record producers today are women. “Women producers — and particularly women of color — are virtually erased from the music industry,” the study’s author, Dr. Smith, said.

Why does the disparity still exist, why is it so extreme, and what is being done to change it? We talk with experts and researchers in this area (including the founders of Women’s Audio Mission and SoundGirls) who–through decades of helping women and uncovering and looking critically at stories like Ethel’s–share concrete ways the music industry can move towards real equity.

OUR REWARDS

We are excited about the rewards, both physical and experiential! The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland has a special tour that has your name on it. Our amazing friends at Acadia Recording Company in Portland, Maine (where we’ve filmed historical re-creations) are offering recording time. Maine artist Gil Corral has offered an original black velvet painting. Organizations like SoundGirls and Female Frequency have helped orchestrate the goodies you see in our perks. We’d love you to join this film as a supporter, and any amount helps! We’re grateful for your support.

TIMELINE

Filmmaking takes time. While we can’t say when the film will be released, we are aiming to have it completed in 2023.

And finally, YOU are essential to this process. Whether you know of Ethel Gabriel yet or not, it’s likely that her career and the music she ushered into the world has impacted your life and the music you enjoy. Ethel’s story can’t be told without your support!

Please SPREAD THE WORD about this film and important story.

Follow us on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. You can also contact us on our website.

ABOUT THE TEAM

  •  CAROLINE LOSNECK (co-director, co-producer, editor) is an independent documentarian, radio/podcast producer, installation artist and filmmaker in Maine. Her radio work has been featured on NPR, Marketplace, BBC, Maine Public Radio, Kitchen Sisters, and in numerous podcasts. Her documentary film work has been featured in the New York Times, Camden International Film Festival and others. She has received Maine Arts Commission, Warhol Foundation/Kindling Fund, and Ellis-Beauregard Foundation grants for her documentary storytelling work.
  •  CHRISTOPH GELFAND (co-director, cinematographer, co-producer, editor) is an award-winning director and producer who has been making (mostly) truthful films his whole life. Since learning the craft on celluloid, his documentaries have been screened across the country on network and cable television, film festivals, and online. He continues to produce new films with his production company, True Life Media. His musical experience includes playing an occasionally functional tenor sax and a few improvisational piano ballads.
  •  APRIL TUCKER (co-producer, sound supervisor, researcher). April works in sound for pictures (broadcast TV, film, and streaming) in Los Angeles, California. Her sound for film work has been heard at major festivals such as Sundance, Cannes, Toronto, and Tribeca, and her television mixes have been heard by millions of viewers. April has been researching Ethel Gabriel since 2019, uncovering details to Ethel’s story and career that would have otherwise been lost.

The film is also in association with SoundGirls. KARRIE KEYES is Executive Director and Co-Founder of SoundGirls. Hailing from Los Angeles, Karrie has spent over 25 years as the monitor engineer for Pearl Jam and Eddie Vedder. Karrie started out doing sound for punk bands in Los Angeles in 1986. She was the monitor engineer for The Red Hot Chili Peppers (1990-2000) and has worked with Sonic Youth, Fugazi, and Neil Young.

Risks and challenges

Producing a documentary takes time (and even more time in a pandemic). We are confident that our experience in the documentary and news world, and our deep connections within the audio and entertainment industry (the people needed to tell the story), will allow us to complete our film. The funds we raise with this campaign will only comprise a portion of what we’ll need to finish the film, but our team has the resources to make a little go a long way. Funding will allow us to film our most important subjects and locations, and most importantly, to have more time with Ethel’s friends, colleagues, and those she impacted. An additional part of completing this film will be the rights and clearances that will enable us to use the music we find so important in telling Ethel’s story. We’ve always seen the music Ethel helped bring into the world as a main character. Any funds beyond our production needs will help cover these costs. Thank you!

Learn about accountability on Kickstarter

Saving the Show

We all like to think we’re absolutely indispensable, especially in the theatre world. There’s the old adage “the show must go on,” so we push ourselves to get tours into theatres where they barely fit, come to work even when we’re not feeling well because who else can run the show? Once, an actress asked what the A1 and A2 would do if one of us were sick. I told her that whoever’s not sick would mix the show, so she asked what happened if we were both sick. I replied, “then whoever’s less sick mixes with a trashcan at FOH.” Thankfully neither of us ever had to do that, but everyone on the road has a war story of doing a show despite illness or injury, bragging how quickly they came back or how stoically they soldiered through.

Trying to fit the old tour life we knew into a new landscape where Covid dictates so much have proven challenging to say the least. But some good has come from it: now more than ever, we’re focusing more on our physical health. Which is wonderful, and long overdue. However, sailing in uncharted waters leads to so much uncertainty in our lives. That constant stress takes a toll on the mental health of the company. We’re on rigorous testing schedules that race against the efficiency of an ever-evolving virus that threatens cancellations or unexpected layoffs if enough people in the company test positive. Before 2020 most of us would have cheered some unexpected time off and made plans to relax, but now there’s a nagging worry in the back of our minds that our entire industry could shut down again or our show could close for good. We find ourselves half tempted to stay locked in the hotel room in the hope that somehow that will keep a positive test at bay, all the while knowing that our quality of life will suffer drastically if we try to avoid each other completely.

We’re now at a point where being indispensable is a liability, not only to the company but to our own mental well-being. Even more so for the handful of company members who have become linchpins in a Covid world: people that, if they test positive and have to quarantine, have no replacement or understudy onsite to cover, and the show will have to shut down until they can return to work. In most cases, there’s someone, somewhere that could fly out to the tour to cover, but even that would involve at least one or two canceled shows.

At the beginning of January, I ran into both of those situations. Mean Girls had an outbreak of cases and had to cancel a week of shows, which had already happened on a handful of other tours. I found myself with some unexpected time off, but that didn’t last for long because our industry is a very small one. On my first day off, I got a call at 9 pm asking if I could leave on the first flight the next day so I could fill in for the A1 on the My Fair Lady tour, and Tuesday at 10 am I walked into load in to help the A2 get the show-up and running.

This was a job that brought a lot of perspectives. It was a d&b main system and Helixnet com, neither of which I’d toured, and a Yamaha PM10 console, which I’ve never touched before (I have worked on Yamaha consoles, and thankfully that knowledge of the software transferred!), plus a design team that I’d never worked with before. Walking in, I’d toured for long enough that I was able to get the general lay of the land, and the A2 and I worked through setting up FOH and getting the system timed with a few phone calls and emails to design and the A1 to make sure we had the right patches and were getting reasonably close to the original intention of the design.

It was gratifying to see that I’d come far enough in my career that I could take unfamiliar gear in stride or at least know who to ask for help. It also showed me the gap between what we know as someone who runs the show constantly, and what a fresh pair of eyes actually see. Taking that back with me to Mean Girls, I’m starting to covid-proof my system to the best of my ability. So far I’ve added better labeling and color-coding to my FOH setup, taking more pictures of what things look like, and creating a Dropbox folder that I can send someone a link with most of the pertinent information they’d need to load in, run, and load out the show.

Luckily, this leans into one of my strengths. If you threw a dart at a collection of my blogs, you’re almost guaranteed to hit one that either mentions or completely focuses on some kind of paperwork: scripts, console programming, venue advances; I love a solid set of paperwork and some detailed documentation.

One of my projects on the post-Covid version of the tour was creating documentation of the show and my stint at My Fair Lady gave me a better idea of what I want to include:

For some, this sounds like overkill, but I find peace of mind in the idea that I might give someone too much information, but hopefully never too little. I also have a lot of practice doing this kind of documentation because it’s similar to what I’ve done for some of the shows I’ve left, specifically those where I didn’t have much time with my replacement to help train them. The only difference is that this would be a temporary replacement with who I’d have absolutely no crossover, other than answering questions on the phone as I sit in a hotel room in quarantine.

At this point in the touring world, it’s no longer about job security, it’s about sustainability. Eventually, we may move to a point where Covid won’t shut shows down for weeks at a time, but we’re not there yet. Until we make it to that point, we all have to be prepared for the when — not if — of being the person who’s in quarantine. For me, that means lots of time typing on my computer so I can rest just a little easier knowing I’ve done everything I could to make my replacement and my crew’s life as easy as possible.

The Groundbreaking Feminine Power of Rock Icon Stevie Nicks

 

Queen of shawls and heartbreak, Stevie Nicks has been creating hits since the 1970s. As a pioneer of women in rock, Nicks is a role model for many modern musicians. Yet Nicks’ journey to be a pioneer of women in rock, is an interesting story of feminine power in the midst of a hyper-masculine music world. Through her lyrics and clothes, Stevie harnessed the power of the feminine to carve a path for herself and build the road for women in music across the globe.

With 40+ years in the music industry, Nicks has dozens of songs penned under her name.. Her fearless proclamations of the dynamic feminine and her mystical garments are exactly what makes her the music mother for many of us. Her proclamations of the strength of a woman are still radical in many cultures, yet they were especially radical when she was penning her early song. In the world of macho rock in the 1970s, Nicks’s fearless proclamation of the woman’s spellbinding power while wearing flowing dresses and draping feminine shawls is a unique and empowering narrative to be written. Yet it is exactly what Nicks’ was writing, most importantly in the song “Rhiannon”.

In one line in the song, Rhiannon says, “ She rules her life like a bird in flight/ and who would be her lover?/ All your life you’ve never seen a woman taken by the wind” (Nicks). These lyrics of feminine power in a rock song were a new idea in music. At this point in time rock was a celebration of hyper-masculine, male sexual power, and a macho mindset. Up to this point few women and be able to enter into the misogynistic world of rock n roll. In much of popular rock, the dominating narrative of the women was either ideal woman/Madonna/Saint, evil or fickle witch, or Sinner/Whore/Victim. If you look at the lyric in Rhiannon as mentioned above, Nicks took this classic rock women witch narrative and turned it into a story of the feminine power of the witch.  Pop culture scholar  Carol  L. Thompson highlights this when she says, “Rhiannon transcends the evil fickle witch stereotype by casting the heroine as irresistible, independent, and in control of her own destiny”. The timing of this song being written as Nicks was experiencing the masculine world of music shows how Nicks understood the patriarchal music industry that she was against. However, Nicks took this understanding of the patriarchal system she was facing, embraced it, and wrote an anthem of how she would take these barriers as a way of gaining power. This narrative of taking power highlights Nicks’ history of her success in embracing femininity as a woman in music while facing rampant misogyny in the rock music industry.

Nicks embracing the power of the feminine did not stop at her lyrics. Following the commercial success of the 1975 album, Fleetwood Mac,  Nicks began to work with clothing designer Margi Kent to develop her clothing style for performance. This ultimately led to her wearing long skirts, platform boots, and numerous shawls.  This decision to make her image clearly feminine in skirt and heels was a bold decision knowing the misogynistic rock music scene she was entering. By overtly promoting her femininity through her clothing she chose to be strong in her femininity in a male-dominated space.  Through this unapologetic clothing expression, she visually expressed women were important and needed in the rock world. It clearly highlighted her difference as a woman and the barriers she was breaking in her success.

Culturally Stevie Nicks is an icon. Stevie’s music still tops the charts, years after the song’s initial release. Her longstanding popularity shows Nicks has inspired many generations with her music. Her legendary status comes from her pioneering actions as one of the famous women in music and in rock n’ roll. Through her lyrics and clothing, she chipped away at the singularly hypermasculine rock culture and carved a space for feminine power to enter rock successfully. Her achievements in these actions have solidified her legacy as a legend in rock n roll.

 

Riding the Creative Cycle

Aside from the obvious devastation caused, the coronavirus pandemic has done a number on creative folks. I’ve observed struggles, transformations, career challenges, and cycles that would normally span decades condensed into a matter of months. It’s been fascinating to see how people’s creativity has evolved over this testing time, and the new directions that have emerged out of crisis, changes, and a renewed perspective.

Everything in life moves in cycles, whether in work, our relationships, a project, or ourselves. Cycles typically go through the phases of inception, birth, growth, decline, release, death, and rebirth. It’s rebirth that I find most fascinating: the dawning of a new age and beginning of a new cycle is always exciting to see.

In ancient Egyptian and Greek mythology, the legend of the phoenix is often referenced as the ultimate motivational idiom of forging a new path in life. As the story goes, the phoenix was a magnificent bird with red and gold plumage. Singing songs for the sun alone in the desert, the phoenix grew old and weak after living for 500 years. The phoenix then built a funeral pyre for itself before laying down and bursting into flames. Instantly, from the ashes the phoenix emerged even more beautiful and renewed, and would live for another 500 years, repeating the cycle again in perpetuity.

Trying something new

Whether rebirth is borne out of crisis or experimentation, a common artistic method for overcoming a creative block is to ‘try something new’. It’s a topic that never fails to crop up in conversation, because so often we feel stagnant and like we need to widen our net, even during ‘ordinary’ times. In welcoming in the new – whether that be a new sound, a new instrument, technique, or area of industry, we metaphorically channel our personal Sgt. Pepper, like our inner Dylan plugging in his guitar for the first time. We can push the boundaries of what is comfortable or expected as often as we like – every life chapter, career move, and creative offering can be as fresh and unpredictable as each new album from Radiohead or Bowie, embracing a direction that is ever-evolving.

Paradoxically, another theme that consistently appears alongside trying something new, is the drive to reconnect with what we loved about our art as a child or when we first became inspired. When your art is your career, this one can be more challenging to figure out. With an unexpected hiatus such as the pandemic, taking time and space to let the ideas flow again has helped some to reconnect with this initial spark.

But what of the times when our lives and careers crumble, when re-emerging from the ashes is more dramatic? Sometimes a new cycle is more akin to Dave Grohl forming the Foo Fighters after the end of Nirvana when an entirely new start is necessary in order to move on.

In the same vein, my favourite Rock and Roll life story has to be that of Stevie Van Zandt, who started his career as the guitarist of Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band. After leaving the group at a high point in their popularity, Van Zandt faced struggles financially, emotionally, and spent a period of time without music in his life. However, his autobiography explains:

“Van Zandt left the band and transformed into a new identity, the first of many, and Little Steven became a political songwriter and performer, helping to mastermind the recording of ‘Sun City, an anti-apartheid anthem that helped get Nelson Mandela out of prison. By the 90s, Van Zandt had lived at least two lives – one as a rocker, one as a hardcore activist. It was time for a third – as Silvio Dante, the unconditionally loyal consigliere who sat at the right hand of Tony Soprano in The Sopranos. Underlying all of Van Zandt’s various incarnations was a devotion to preserving the centrality of the arts, especially the endangered species of Rock.”

Van Zandt is the epitome of the legend of the phoenix, changing direction, and making comeback after comeback from the ashes of his previous lives. While his first cycle came to an end with the band, he went on to use his skills and make an impact in a new way that wouldn’t have been possible without its ending. By modifying his creative mediums, Van Zandt affected one of the most notable political events in recent history and went on to be a part of the most renowned television show in the world. Even more, interestingly, he reconnected with Bruce and the band years later, and has been a staple of the group once again.

When cycles end as they inevitably do, embracing the situation and looking to art and stories like Van Zandt’s can give us hope that incredible things are possible, and when one chapter in our lives burns to the ground, it doesn’t necessarily mark the end of us. We might take a break, reinvent ourselves, or try something completely new, but every ending is a new beginning. Whether good or bad, the cycle will roll on, and rebirth always comes at the end of the sequence.

Some Tips From My Last Location Sound Gig

TUGELA SKYE

I have this weird love-hate relationship with location sound. It’s still a relatively new area of expertise for me, but there have been some amazing, and not-so-amazing experiences. I recently went on a trip with a well-known film producer, Timothy Hay from Hellmot productions. It was a last-minute adventure, and I must admit one of the coolest experiences I have ever had. So, I thought I would tell you a bit about the trip, what I learnt and what I might do differently next time.

So, the gig was as follows: Tim was the winner of the My Rode Reel competition the previous year and this year he decided to go all out for his second entry. I was contacted by a friend of a friend of a friend (because we all know that’s the only way to get work in this industry haha!), who asked me if I was free to do a gig in about two weeks.

We were going to hike up to Tugela Falls (the highest waterfall in the world), stay overnight, and capture some truly beautiful footage. Would I be interested in going? My answer was a simple “HELL YES!”

So, I got acquainted with the gear, the nature of the job, and what was required of me and took off on the adventure of a lifetime.

Here are the things I faced, and tips on what you might need to consider for your next location sound excursion:

When doing a location sound recording gig that’s going to be in the middle of the mountains, make sure you take the right camping gear!

I found myself having to share a one-man tent with another girl, we froze through the night and I totally forgot to bring simple things like a coffee cup. Yes, we had to be very careful as to how much weight we were carrying up the mountain (it was hellishly steep), but things like correct hiking boots would have saved my feet a few weeks of blister recovery.

No matter WHAT the film producer says, make sure you take extra cables!

This was a funny one – when working with videographers, or anyone else for that matter, and you haven’t had a chance to check the quality of the cables beforehand, just bring your own in case. We had a faulty cable running into our Zoom recorder and it meant we couldn’t use all the mics we had hoped to use for the film. This made room for error as we were relying on a limited feed for our takes. If something went wrong, we didn’t have backup feeds. So, just tuck them in a pocket if you must but take extra cables with you!

Make sure you are familiar with the gear.

I knew what I was doing but had never used the model that was provided. So, before the gig, I spent some time on YouTube simply making sure I had a good idea of simple things, like where the menu button on the recorder was. Trust me, you don’t want to look like an idiot when you go ask the DOP where to find the menu button on a piece of gear you should be proficient at.

Take as much wind protection as possible.

I’ve never experienced as much wind as I did at the top of that mountain, if it hadn’t been for the wind protection we brought with us, everything would have been ruined. Even if you don’t think it will be windy, take it with you.

Don’t be afraid to tell the DOP that it was a dud take.

The worst thing happened – we were taking a shot for the climax of the film. After a few takes and struggles, we got the take.

Everyone cheered.

I said, “Guys, we have to do it again.”

When they asked me if I was sure, I hesitated. For a moment I was embarrassed that I was the one killing the buzz after that amazing take, but I knew professionally that I needed to do my job, and I needed to do it well. I, very assertively said, “I’m sorry but you’re going to have to do it again, we can’t fix this in post.” And I am so glad I did.

Take in the view

We walked with 20-30kg bags on our backs, shooting in between scaling up cliff faces, and you know what – every time I got a chance, I looked around me and took it in. I was in awe. I couldn’t believe how magnificent the view was, and that I could justify this as “work”. The people, the place, the purpose – all exceeded expectations.

Be realistic with your post-production limitations.

So, because it was all done about a week before we had to submit the film, we had about 3 days to do all the audio post-production editing. I spent those three days doing nothing else. I had to know when to say, “this is the best we can do for this part.” But I also had to not be afraid to say, “I don’t think this will work here”.

Do push-ups.

You may laugh but carrying a boom mic for two days straight can take its toll. Make sure you get your upper body in good condition if you don’t want weeks of residual backache.

After about a week of filming and editing, we did it! And the feeling was SO good. I couldn’t put into enough words how much I enjoyed the experience – the early 4 am starts, the relationships and banter, the late nights editing, and the lasting connections made.

So, next time you go on an exploration-style sound recording gig, keep in mind these things, and good luck with your adventure!

The 8 Nights of Hanukah with Yo La Tengo

A holiday tradition at the Bowery Ballroom has returned once again. Signaling that maybe, just maybe, we have returned to normal.

It was 2017 when I found out Yo La Tengo would be reinstating their holiday tradition at the Bowery Ballroom, after a 5-year hiatus due to the closing of the original venue host, Maxwells. I was beyond excited to have them, but I was green in knowing what it would take to host an 8-night residency when most of my job involved turning the club over each night.  Over the 4 years that followed, fond friendships grew to give me deep, nostalgic feelings of the tour, and the joy and pride that comes with seeing an artist grow, and seeing your skills grow in the process.

When the 2021 holiday residency was announced, a warm smile fell over everyone at the venue. If Yo La Tengo believes we can do this safely, maybe live music can finally return to normal. All 8 nights follow a similar format. Doors open to a playlist made by someone near and dear to the band, a supporting artist takes the stage, followed by a comedian, and finally Yo La Tengo- with a 2-hour set featuring many special guests.

Load In always happens on the night before the first show. Then the production schedule always follows something similar to the following:

3:00 pm- Crew Arrives, preps gear

4:00 pm- Band arrives, rehearsals start

6:00 pm- Support Soundcheck

7:00 pm- Doors

8:00 pm- Support

9:00 pm- Comedian

10:00 pm- Yo La Tengo

The band comes with a Tour Manager, Backline Tech, Monitor Engineer, and FOH Engineer. And I always staff a Stage Manager, Monitor tech, FOH Tech, and Lighting Designer. Ideally, I keep the same crew for all 8 nights, strangely easier said than done.

The bands’ engineers use our house consoles and their mic package (mostly all Electrovoice). Our lighting designer lights the whole show. The band is all on wedges. With all of the special guests, we quickly use up all our 10 d&b M6 wedges. Most nights also use up all 48 of our inputs from stage, and I found myself grateful for our new digital console at Front Of House, and the importance of snapshots. The stage always starts exceptionally organized with every XLR being labeled, every sub snake box labeled and color-coded, and maintaining proper cable lengths. Stage speaker management is equally detailed, and the use of Layouts and console views on the Avid desk really helps FOH to stay on top of any last-minute surprises. Additional house equipment is stored off-stage, but still accessible, to create as much performance space as possible

Organizing FOH as a newly appointed Avid console tech, was a challenge for me. We loaded a show file that had passed from a Profile to another S6L, before coming to our desk. While Avid does boast a unified platform and ease of show file transfers, it does take a careful engineer a bit of time to prep the file for each new desk. Currently, I am taking the winter season to learn and understand session structures and system preferences. This has helped me achieve the workflow I was always used to on the Avid desk, and now I have the understanding as to why it behaves that way. I am also coming to understand that sometimes, the things engineers enjoy about their files/workflow, are things that might be better reproduced as a snapshot or User Preset, rather than a whole Session file. It is humbling, gratifying, challenging, and fun to poke through this new desk in a room I know and love, and with a band, I know and love.  By the end of Hanukah, I felt like I could speak the desks’ language much better than when we started.

Unlike the 300 other shows I advance with throughout the year, the support band, comedian, and special guests are kept top secret. Over the years, I have gone from feeling extreme anxiety over the anticipation to feeling excited and actually enjoying the unknown. I have arrived to work greeted with hugs from artists I used to tour with, had my jaw drop when seeing my idols take the stage, and of course, had my “grey hair moments” when figuring out how to fit all 14 members of the Sun Ra Arkestra on our stage. This year we were lucky to see their return, along with personal favorites Low, whose FOH engineer patched some analog effect pedals into the desk, including a real Moogerfooger that sounded heavenly.

Yo La Tengo has always been an important band for me. Having found them on a mixtape from a friend over a decade before I knew I even wanted to pursue live sound as a career.  I never could have thought I’d come to love and appreciate their crew as much as I do. It is a joy to hear Marks’ mixes, and how authentically he reproduces the bands’ sound.  It is inspiring to absorb Dutch’s patience and organization of wedge mixes on such a small stage. And always, always a joy to see the way Kevin works with Ira’s army of guitars. Magically fitting and tuning more guitars than nights of Hanukah to mate with the tube amps that defined such a genre of music. Joe, their TM holds them together, keeping everyone well fed, well caffeinated, and as prepared as possible.

With all on their crew, it always feels like genuine work together, rather than house vs. tour. What makes this, and any crew so great and effective is their ability to work together towards the whole. To understand that FOH is not just sitting in front of a desk. That mixing monitors is also balancing the stage volume. It is understanding volume and tone, and how the space is affecting what you are doing, as well as who you have on stage with you. I was always taught and always appreciated that FOH is something you work up towards, not simply something that you are trained for in books or videos. It comes when you can understand all of the parts of the stage, and when you understand your artist, and how they make their sound. To date, the most successful mixes I have heard are from engineers that understand those concepts completely.

These shows wrapped just as we learned of Omicron. All on the house staff, artist, and crew remained healthy, and each show was a success. Just a week later, we were shook with increased case numbers, and NYC saw its nightlife begin to dim once more. Broadway canceled shows, New Year’s Eve got a little more intimate, and Artists’ postponed their tours. January had 2-weeks worth of shows canceled, leaving only 4 dates with 3 artists, and a tightening of our protocols. In the strange, and all too common downtime, I have taken to education and practical training in our space. I cannot help but feel sad and exhausted. We have wasted years that could have been spent really understanding the needs of the industry in order to tour in a healthy manner. I feel safe and proud of the protocols we as a venue have put in place, which now feels somewhat fraught. If improved health, safety, production equipment, and training are not the reasons why an artist would choose to play your room over another, what are they? Is it possible to see something more than a guarantee?

I should leave it here by saying that all the Hanukah shows are put on in support of a different charity every night, and not only speak to organizations I feel proud to support, but also a sign of the times. I found this tradition the most heartwarming and meaningful of all. In a year when the band, [and the whole industry] performed a small fraction of the shows we thought we would when many artists suffered and put that aside for a moment, with the understanding that there is so much more out there, and so much to continue to fight for.

If you get lucky enough, I encourage everyone to check out one of these celebratory nights, and please come back to Bowery soon. We miss ya!

 

So You Want to Mix Podcasts

Happy New Year Soundgirls. If this is the year you’re going to take the plunge into podcasting, then here are a few tips I wish I had known when I first started. Many of the engineers I know in podcasting came from music or theater or production backgrounds, so it’s not unheard of to make the switch. You already know the basics of audio, so there’s tons of overlap, but there is quite a bit you need to pay attention to when working with the voice.

First, here are some of the most typical podcast types.

Two-ways are just interviews. A host and a guest. Maybe some music.

Narrative or long-form are usually documentary-style meaning you’ll have a narrator telling the story along with voices from interview subjects. The interviewee’s soundbites are cut into what’s called selects and usually edited to fit the narration. These are scripted and will normally have scoring as well as sound effects.

Non-narrated podcasts have an interview subject telling their own story edited together with music. (Something like Song-Exploder might be a good example here)

You will get sessions in all different ways. So the first thing you’ll want to do is get your session organized.

THEN

Once you get into a rhythm, and you’ve done a few of these, you’ll probably want to save the template so you can just import your settings

On each individual track, I usually have an EQ, a compressor, an expander, a de-esser, and Izotope’s Mouth De-click. On each individual track, I use LIGHT compression – you want some compression because otherwise you’re going through a ton of small tiny bits of audio and adjusting each level and that will get tedious. But you don’t want to over-compress because the voice will sound unnatural. Expanders help get rid of any unwanted studio noise, but again I use light settings here. And you’ll have to play with your de-esser to find the right settings here.

On my VO aux, I have something similar. An EQ, a compressor, an expander. This allows me to set an overall EQ to ALL my VO together to give the podcast some uniformity but also allows me to manipulate the level of my VO in relation to the music and the sound effects. If you have a narrative podcast with something like 20 different tracks, having control of things with one aux is very helpful. I tend to err on light compression and expansion overall but depends on what kinds of voices I’m working with.

My music aux may or may not have light compression, but it does have EQ. Sometimes, I have a sidechain into my compressor that’s being fed by my VO aux. So my compressor will kick in when the voice comes in. This isn’t always necessary, but I’ve found I like it so the music isn’t always being compressed. For me, my main goal with the music aux is just to be able to manipulate as a whole. When you start getting into heavy automation within a podcast, it can get annoying to adjust that track by 1 dB and screw up your automation.

SFX aux is similar, for me it’s mainly level control.

My master usually has a limiter and a meter of some sort. I use Izotope Insight for metering and am usually mixing to -16 LUFS but it depends on who you’re mixing for. Broadcast standards can be -24 LUFS.

Because podcasting is all about the story being told, you want to make sure that the voice is the most prominent and important thing you’re hearing. This is why having auxes can be such a lifesaver.

You will want to take one initial pass through the edit sent to you that will be just to adjust levels and deal with any big issues. These can be things like buzz, noises, plosives, and other random things that can happen. I don’t work for Izotope, but they are great and have some of the best denoising plugins around. Vocal denoise, mouth declick, EQ match, deplosive, dewind, so many different things you can do to clean up the audio. During the pandemic, the audio quality has suffered a lot since people are recording anywhere and with anything. So, whether it’s Izotope or Waves denoising or whatever other tools you can get your hands on, get to know them, and know how to use them.

The most important thing with podcasting is paying attention to detail. Make sure you don’t cut off breaths but do cut off stutters or any fumbles. Don’t listen too loud, but make sure you listen at a level that you can hear if you cut off a breath! Pacing is important. Make sure the VO isn’t going too fast or slow. Enjoy the story you’re being told. Try to make sure the music is adding to that story and not detracting from it. And if you’re working with a script and something is off, make sure to check with your producer because they may have missed something.

Once you feel you’ve gone through your mix a few times, and you feel confident it’s ready to go, a good rule of thumb after bouncing is to re-import to your session and analyze the audio to make sure you’re at the correct levels. Also, make sure you didn’t cut off the beginning or the end.

Always give your work a final listen, so whether it’s right before you bounce or a quality control after you bounce, just make sure you listen. Podcasts can be long and tedious, so it’s easy for things to slip through the cracks. A 45-minute podcast can take anywhere from 4-6 hours to mix (or more if the audio is particularly bad). That’s just for a 2-way, narrative podcasts can take so much more. But if you pay attention to the details and deliver good work, you can get A LOT of work.

 

 

 

Twi McCallum – Sound Designer

Twi McCallum works on sound design for theater, post-production, audiobooks, and commercials. She has been freelancing since 2018 for Broadway, off-Broadway, and for regional theatres. Twi recently started working full-time at Skywalker Sound in sound editorial, and she will be relocating from NYC to the Bay Area.

Twi grew up in Baltimore and worked throughout high school at the National Aquarium, where she learned ocean conservation and marine biology. During the summers they created a play that was performed at local libraries. They would write the script, create costumes, backdrops, props, and music. This was Twi’s introduction to theater. She would go on to attend Howard University, where she found a class called TECH, where she became a crew member working behind the scenes for student productions. Twi remembers her first production, “my first tech assignment was a dresser for the musical Anything Goes, and there was a moment during invited dress when I was standing in the wings waiting for my actor to come offstage for a quick change. And I must have been standing in front of a speaker because I suddenly felt a wash of sound effects and music cascade over my body, and although I knew nothing about speakers, mics, or engineering at that time, I knew that’s what I wanted to jump into.”

Twi was working towards a Theater Administration major, studying things like stage management, producing, and technical theater. “At the time, my focus was costume design, which is laughable now, but there were no sound design professors and I failed my lighting  and scenic design classes which is why I dropped out of school and moved to New York.”  Twi would eventually graduate from Yale School of Drama’s one-year sound program in May 2021, which was virtual due to covid.

Her first job in NYC was a technical apprenticeship at a dance company called New York Live Arts, which was the first time Twi learned the fundamentals of audio such as how to stand on a ladder to hang a speaker, using a c-wrench, dropping a file into QLab, what an XLR cable is, and the basics of a mixing console which was the Yamaha DM1000. Twi says she knew she wanted to be a sound designer “because I was more moved by watching the dance performances than I was mixing them, and of course, getting yelled at as a mixer because nobody talks to the sound person unless they need to scold.”

When the apprenticeship ended, Twi worked as a stagehand at the Manhattan School of Music while sending her resume to a bunch of theaters that Twi said: “I was grossly underqualified for.” Her first design gigs were for Cape May Stage, TheatreSquared, and Kansas City Reps– all regional theaters that took a chance on her.

During covid, Twi took a post-production internship at a foley studio called Alchemy, and because of that opportunity, she was immediately hired as an apprentice sound editor on two scripted television shows for NBC and STARZ which allowed me to join Motion Picture Editors Guild Local 700. Those jobs qualified her to be hired at Skywalker Sound.

What did you learn interning or on your early gigs?

My one quirk is that I write everything down… when I’m at work I’m constantly scribbling in a notepad. My first job in New York was a technical theater internship (although criminally underpaid and abusive) at a dance company called New York Live Arts. It was my first time learning the basics of audio, and I still have my notebook from 3 years ago. I wrote down everything I learned…what does this button on the Yamaha DM1000 do, this is how many pins an XLR cable has, this is what a cluster is vs what a line array is. There is nothing embarrassing about needing to take notes, and there were times that it saved me because someone on the staff would ask me a question about the system that nobody else could answer but there it was in my trusty notebook! Even when I transitioned into post-production last year, I began keeping a typed journal of things I learned every day. My first professional television gig was as a sound apprentice on STARZ’s The Girlfriend Experience season 3, and the first thing my sound supervisor taught me was the importance of making region groups in ProTools for every episode. A year later, I still refer to those instructions whether I’m working on a professional tv show or an indie film.

Did you have a mentor or someone that really helped you?

My first mentor in theater sound was Megumi Katayama. There was a time in my life 2-3 years ago when I didn’t know any sound designers and I was emailing as many of them as I could find to inquire about their process. Megumi was a recent Yale MFA graduate when we met, already making strides with sold-out productions. I told her that I wanted to apply to Yale, so she invited me to assist her on production at Long Wharf Theater, which allowed me to tour and interview at Yale for my application. To this day she is still the only designer I’ve ever assisted.

My other theater sound design mentor is Nevin Steinberg, a legend, known for mega Broadway shows like Hamilton, Hadestown, and Dear Evan Hanson. When I emailed him as a fan with no major work experience, he called me on the phone the next day to my surprise, and since then he and I have talked at least every few weeks the past 2 years, sometimes just to make sure I’m emotionally okay.

In post-production, my biggest mentors are Bobbi Banks (ADR supervisor), Dann Fink, (loop group coordinator), and Bryan Parker who is a Supervising Sound Editor at Formosa Group and spent 6 months training me in sound effects and dialogue editorial. As I begin a new journey at Skywalker Sound, I admire Katy Wood, who I plan to work closely with over the next year.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that mentors also show up outside of my craft as a sound designer. The folks who always recommend me for big jobs, introduce me to directors, and take care of me in the workplace are costume, scenic, and lighting designers like Dede Ayite, Adam Honore, David Zinn, Clint Ramos, and Paul Tazwell. I advise any sound girl to reach out to other artists outside of audio to build a robust community.

Career Now

What is a typical day like?

In theater, I typically spend two weeks prior to tech being hands-on preparing for a production. This includes chats with the director, conceptual meetings with the scenic & lighting designers, group production meetings, and visiting rehearsals as often as possible. I also do a lot of paperwork such as cue sheets, console files, gear lists, and ground plans. Tech is typically 1-2 weeks long, and thankfully the theater industry is progressing away from the brutal 10 out of 12-hour workdays and six-day work weeks. Tech means stepping through every page of the script with all of the actors fully encompassed in the design elements. Then, there are usually 1-2 weeks of previews, which means a short rehearsal during the day to fix notes and a public audience performance in the evening.

How do you stay organized and focused?

My calendar is the key to me staying organized, Google calendar works miracles. As lame as it sounds, I maintain a daily, weekly, monthly, and annual to-do list. Annual to-do lists may feel overboard, but you’ll feel rewarded when the holiday season arrives and you realize you accomplished a long-term goal that you visualized 10 months prior. I am still learning to stay focused while acknowledging focusing doesn’t need to look the same for everyone. When I’m working from home, I like sitting on my couch with my laptop and listening to my tv in the background so I don’t feel alone. The best advice about focus that I’ve gotten from artists: spend 15 minutes every day in complete silence (from a costume designer), and try spending the first 1-2 hours every day that you wake up without any technology (from a playwright). Reducing social media usage has become critical for me, especially the drama of Instagram and Facebook.

What do you enjoy the most about your job?

What I love the most about theater sound design is sitting in the audience watching my show and being swarmed with the real-time reactions of the audience. The laughter, claps, cries, and yells, especially if it’s a result of a perfectly timed sound effect, assure me that I’ve done a great job. In theater, you will hear lots of designers say this theory, “The design is good when you don’t notice it.” But I disagree with that because there’s a line between noticing when your design is bad versus noticing when your design is compelling the storytelling. I like to believe we go to the theater to not only notice the actors but to enjoy the physical world of the play (scenic and costumes) and visceral world of the play (lighting and sound). I want the audience to notice my gunshots, earthquakes, music transition, spaceship takeoff, alarm clock, etc because they’re small yet inspiring parts of the bigger puzzle. For example, I designed a production of STEEL MAGNOLIAS at Everyman Theater and my director was adamant about the big gunshot moment, so I drove the point home and made it terrifying. I loved reading the performance reports via email from the stage manager every night that noted the audience jumping and holding each other at the surprise of the gunshot.

What do you like least?

In theater, I dislike the lack of budgeting of time and money from producers, production managers, directors, and other folks in power. Money is always used as an excuse for why designers, including sound designers, cannot be given the resources, staffing, and pay to properly do our jobs. There’s also a disregard for equitable scheduling of pre-production, rehearsal, and tech that impacts our personal lives.

What is your favorite day off activity? 

I play a lot of zombie video games (team PlayStation), plus I spend time with my Goldendoodle and pet snails as my happy places in my personal life. I’ve been watching some television shows, which are new to me because I’m more of a film lover. It took me a month to finish The Walking Dead but it was worth it, and I love Money Heist, You, Pose, Judge Judy, Top Chef, and Squid Game.

What are your long-term goals?

In 5-10 years, my heart is gazed upon being a re-recording mixer and supervising sound editor for big-budget film, television, and video games. I’m leaving behind theater sound design to transition into theatrical producing, so I can focus more on my post-production career. Eventually, I would love to teach sound design at an HBCU.

What if any obstacles or barriers have you faced? How have you dealt with them?

“Making it” is hard. However, I like to believe many of us make it over that hump eventually. What I wished someone talked to me about 2-3 years ago is what happens AFTER “making it”. For me, the insecurities have not stopped. At 25 years old and well-accomplished for my age according to other people… I am still comparing myself to others, taking it really hard when I don’t get hired for a particular show, and constantly wondering if I will maintain a career of longevity. And as a woman of color, surrounded by men as well as white women who have consistent streaks of accomplishments, I feel this sense of failure more often than people imagine. There are days that I cry, I wonder if I should change careers, I question if I will ever outdo myself and my peers. It’s important that I’m real and honest about these things because I know I’m not the only woman of sound in the world to experience these growing pains. This is where making a self-care plan kicks in, often we discuss self-care regarding busy schedules and needing time off from work. But self-care is also needed as a reminder to love ourselves and balance the highs and lows of our careers, even the lows that we are embarrassed to talk to other people about.

Advice you have for other women and young women who wish to enter the field?

Try your hardest not to take underpaid jobs. Even when you are first starting, do not take a gig that does not pay at least the legal minimum wage. Money is important, despite being in a craft where we’re supposed to love what we do unconditionally. Women are already underpaid and under-hired in sound, which makes us even more valuable. Companies that thrive on underpaid labor should not exist. The only places you should “volunteer” your time are schools, mentorship programs, and community theaters, all with a grain of salt of course. If you ever need to weigh the tradeoffs of taking a certain gig, do not be ashamed to reach out to someone with experience to ask for advice.

Must have skills?

The most important skill, in theater and post-production, is being able to quickly learn software. This includes drafting software like Vectorworks and DAWS like ProTools. Once you learn the basics of the software you need for work, the next challenge is learning how to use them efficiently. “Shortcuts” become important in the workplace, especially in post-production when it saves you 60 seconds of labor if you know a keyboard hotkey compared to needing to navigate a menu for the same function. These skills are not simple to learn, so be gentle with yourself on this learning journey. There are manuals and flashcards for all software, even ProTools keyboard covers to purchase!

Favorite gear?

In theater, I love Meyer’s SpaceMapGo. I implemented the software on my Broadway play CHICKEN & BISCUITS, to help move music and atmospheric cues around the theater in a 3D motion. In post-production, a similar asset is a plug-in called Waves Brauer Motion.

Summary of accomplishments

More on Twi

Twi McCallum on Hiring Black Designers and Creatives

https://open.spotify.com/episode/2aZE4fsUKT3pwFm3VAE4PE?si=FSn-cQGRQ8KxmN-z88xBeQ

On Pressing the Button

There are two songs that I remember having written at age six: a rock n’ roll wonder called “Thunder and Lightning” (thunder and lightning/ yeah yeah/ thunder and lightning/ oh yeah) and a narrative style ballad about a little cat that emerged from a mysterious magical flowerbed to become my pet.

I remember them because I recorded them

My dad had a boombox, probably intended for demos of his own. I don’t know what kind it was. All I knew was when I pressed the key with the red circle on it and sang, my voice and songs would come back to me whenever I wanted them to. And I recorded more than those two improvised tunes at age six — I completely commandeered that boombox, interrupted and ruined countless demos of my dad’s. Sometimes I’d prank my younger brother and record the squealing result. Later, in my best robotic voice, I’d make a tape-recorded introduction to my bedroom, to be played whenever somebody rang my “doorbell,” AKA the soundbox from my stuffed tiger, ripped out of its belly and mounted beneath a hand-scrawled sign. I’d even go on to record a faux radio show with my neighborhood friends comprised of comedy bits, original music — vocals only, sung in unison — and, yes, pranking my brother.

Eventually, the boombox either moved on from me, broken or reclaimed by its previous owner, or I moved on from it. I didn’t record anything for a long time, even though I formed other vocals-only bands with friends and continued to write and develop as a songwriter.

Had the little red circle become scary? Was I just a kid, moving from interest to interest, finding myself? Probably the latter. But for some reason, as a young songwriter, I moved from bedroom to bathroom studio, from garage to basement studio, jumping at the chance whenever some dude friend with gear and a designated space offered to get my songs down in some form. Sometimes it was lovely. Other times boundaries were broken and long-term friendships combusted. I persisted because I believed that I needed the help, that I couldn’t record on my own.

Years ago I had a nightmare: I had died without having recorded my music. From a bus full of fellow ghosts with unfinished business, I desperately sang my songs down to the living, hoping someone would catch one, foster it, and let it live. In the early days of the pandemic, this nightmare haunted me. That red circle called to me.

Let’s press that record button, yeah? On whatever we’ve got that has one. I’ve had my songs tracked in spaces sanctioned “studios” by confident men, so why not my own spare room? Why not the record button on my own laptop screen? I’m setting an intention, for myself and for you. When I think about what I wish to provide for you as a Soundgirls blogger, it is this: the permission to record yourself on your own terms, wherever you are in your journey. You are valid.

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