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Why does this sound so good?: Jill Scott – To Whom This May Concern 

It is incredibly interesting how we are often inspired by sound— an intangible vibration of airwaves that can resonate with the deepest corners of our souls. Personally, I have always been moved by music. Getting my hands on a saxophone, then learning to sing, then finally learning about music production have all helped to deepen my appreciation for music over the years. When I was younger, I would sit listening to music and often ask myself, “Why does this song sound so good?” Now, with many years of music production experience and a sound engineering degree under my belt, I have a clearer sense of the elements that make a record resonate with the deepest corners of our souls. And oftentimes it is when the lyrics, music production, and sound engineering of a song create a synergy together. As my time as a SoundGirls blogger commences, I will continually analyze different records and projects to answer that exact question — why does this song sound so good?

Like many R&B fans, I have long awaited Jill Scott’s new music. I love that this newest project, To Whom This May Concern, sounds incredibly true to her and her artistry. She delves into themes of love: for self, community, ancestors, romantic interests, and music, amongst many other experiences. Frequently, these themes are expressed with her Black womanhood at the forefront, and it is displayed not just in the lyrics but also in her delivery, the production, and the engineering of the songs.  Her newest project, To Whom This May Concern, is unequivocally Black in its lyrics’ themes, and the way its production and sound engineering collaborate with the lyrics to deepen that message. Some standout songs that will be analyzed for their intersection of lyrics and engineering are Be Great, Pay U On Tuesday, and Right Here, Right Now.

Be Great

Everything about this project is intentional. It is no mistake that she released it during Black History Month. In a similar vein, it is no mistake that one of the first songs on the album is Be Great. It sets the tone for themes that will unfold throughout the project. This song is written and produced by Jill Scott, Troy Andrews (aka Trombone Shorty), Adam Blackstone, and Donovan Knight (aka DK the Punisher). The first thing that stood out to me was the horn production of this record. With Trombone Shorty as one of the writers and producers, it is clear to see how he contributed to the song; the horn parts are a mix of his classic New Orleans style with clear influence from Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCU) marching bands. HBCUs are home to a special type of marching band that goes beyond sideline entertainment at football games, but expands to represent Black history and culture. The spirit and legacy of that is heard on Be Great through the low-end support of tubas, bright interjections of trumpets, and countermelodies of saxophones and baritones.

Jill Scott’s delivery of the lyrics highlights the message of the song that is already heard in the production. In the verses, she has a word in each phrase that she sings with more emphasis, and the notes she chooses on those words are sung higher in her voice; she intentionally wants to make us feel the meaning of each phrase she sings. Furthermore, she utilizes a common vocal production technique in the choruses called vocal stacking. It is the layering of multiple vocal tracks to add density, texture, and emphasis to what is being sung. I love that she chose to keep it unison and leaves space for the horn parts at the end of each phrase. It comes across more impactful that way due to the horns serving as a response to her call, an affirmation to her deciding to “be great” regardless of the “history that made [her] cry.” Even the lyrics embody the spirit of the production. HBCU marching bands are one of many instances in Black history where something meant to harm Black folks (segregated schools) was used by Black folks to instill confidence and pride in our abilities and culture. What better tool to utilize in a song about rising from circumstances meant to make you fall than production that highlights that resilience?

The song reaches a climax around 2:15, when a hallmark of HBCU marching bands comes to fruition— the battery breakdown section. Scott’s lyrics bounce effortlessly on top of the knocks of the snares, claps of the cymbals, and marching quads playing fills as the vamp repeats and builds. Resilience is not only heard in her lyrics; it is felt from the song’s production as well.

Pay U On Tuesday

As someone whose first musical influence was jazz, I was quite pleased to hear this blues on the project. Whether you are a sound engineer, a classically trained musician, commercially trained, or you are hailing from musical theater spaces in the United States, it is likely that any of these musical contexts has made you encounter the blues. For more history on the blues and its meaning, see here.

The song was produced by Jill Scott, Adam Blackstone, Charles Harmon, and Claude Kelly.  The space and panning of this record so clearly mimics 1920s and 30s jazz; it makes me wonder what recordings Jeremy Hunter and Eduardo Ghigo might have been using for reference mixes. One of the first things I noticed in this song is the panning. The rhythm section is panned piano right, upright bass in the center, guitar left, and the drum set is panned throughout the width of the entire mix. It leaves space in the mix for the response of the horn section.  It’s natural that Scott utilizes call and response; it’s a hallmark of this genre. And of course, as blues typically does, Scott sings of her woes. In this case, an unreliable nuisance of a man. I’m sure we, unfortunately, all relate to a thing or two in those lyrics!

Right Here Right Now

Scott takes us on a journey with Right Here, Right Now, answering the question posed in the lyrics, “Does love still exist?” It is produced by Jill Scott, Lamar Andrews, Carvin Haggins, Yountie Sticklin, Keith, and Malek Isreal. Aside from this being my personal favorite song on the album, this song’s lyrics highlight how love is truly in everything if we pay enough attention to the present. This record is a House track — a music known for its ability to curate a sonic experience that keeps you present in the moment. House music hails from Chicago and is influenced by underground Disco music, queer culture, and Black culture. Its sounds often bellowed from the walls of The Warehouse in Chicago. Jill Scott’s mere use of the genre as a vehicle for this lyrical poem underscores how her identity as a Black woman is present in every section of this album.

The lyrics are affirmations of love. It is in the flowers, the trees, the rainfall, in me, in we. The poem Scott crafts over this house beat is one that highlights not only her own personal feelings but also the importance of the present moment, “right here, right now.”

The journey begins low, thin in texture. There are only a few layers — wide synth pads, Roland TR808 drum machine echoing rhythms sparsely yet with a pace, and Scott’s voice with heavy reverb and pan automation, placing it hard left then hard right. As the journey continues, claps on two and four link up with the synth bass to deepen the rhythm. When the peak is approaching, vocal stacking is utilized  in the pre-chorus and is fully exposed as the song ascends into the chorus. “In you is me, I am here” is heard solo for the last measure before the beat drops at the beginning of the chorus. The beat hits on “here” because it is the first beat of the chorus. The message of presence, the importance of just being here, is emphasized in production and lyrics.

And that is just the first build of the song. This song possesses a few peaks and valleys, as house music typically does. Yet, even this first ascension teaches us to be present, to feel and hear love in this song, in nature, and beyond.

Outro – Àṣẹ

Though my analysis of this project stops here, Scott invites us to continually revisit it and listen again. She highlights this and more in an interview where she speaks on the meaning of Àṣẹ as a song and as a spiritual concept. In short, it is a life energy. To Whom This May Concern invites us into Jill Scott’s unapologetic Black womanhood that intertwines with the sonic energy found in its production, giving us life energy. Listen and listen again. And when you do, let me know what production elements and engineering techniques you notice that enhance the lyrical content in the comments!

Honoring The Shape of Your Journey

Last year, at a studio event, I was tasked with monitoring sound in the control room for the overflow audience. The event was being video-recorded by a team of community college students from the media department where I took audio classes, so I knew some of the video team members.

One of them, a young woman who was taking the audio recording class, was talking to me afterwards, looking at the patch bay and telling me how intimidating she found it.

I told her, “The first time I went in to work with the patch bay at school, I almost cried.”

She gasped. “I did cry!” she said.

I’m assisting with a live sound class this semester, and my job is to identify students who need support to succeed. One young woman had taken audio classes at another community college, but those classes didn’t include any hands-on training, and she was feeling out of her depth with signal flow and using a mixer.

I spent some time with her in a separate room with an old analog Allen & Heath mixer, talking about how the different controls corresponded with the outputs, and getting her to turn the pots and move the faders. Even with the mixer completely powered off and disconnected, she still hesitated to touch the controls.

That’s real fear. I completely identified with her, because I have that, too. It’s a feeling that a mistake will lead to annihilation. Combined with whatever upbringing or experiences one might have had, it can take the shape of anxiety or techphobia that shunts a person’s whole system into survival mode and blunts understanding.

Everyone has a story. Trigger alert: this paragraph describes an act of domestic violence. Part of my story is that I grew up in a strict household ruled by adults with war trauma, where I studied to get the grade necessary to avoid punishment, but not to understand the material. I was discouraged from trying new things or taking risks. As a teen, I dated an abuser my age who brainwashed me in classic style, in one instance telling me to do a math problem he knew I didn’t know how to do, and then slapping my face and screaming about how stupid I was. Decades later, I know he was lying, but my nerves still remember.

It took me most of my life so far to navigate the fallout from that experience. Now that I’m moving forward with an audio career and have the lens of my past to look through, I’ve identified, viscerally, times that the culture of audio engineering has pushed me back. Often, everyone in the room is well-meaning (though perhaps a bit oblivious). For instance, an overzealous engineer once attempted to frame me as a rising star and gave me my first ever session at that studio (and my second session ever) but didn’t give me the information I needed to prepare. It wasn’t a paying client, but a young band that one of the studio owners knew. At one point, the studio owner, his wife, his daughter, the band, and a team of high school videographers were all in the control room watching me set up the session. The engineer came in and asked if I’d measured the position of the overheads (which I knew to do, but had gotten overwhelmed and had forgotten), and if I’d patched in any hardware processing (I hadn’t). He gave me a look and pushed me aside, undoing what I’d done and setting up the session the way he’d do it.

When I thought about this session afterwards, I could see all the ways it could have been a great opportunity for someone else, but was ill-suited for me. It helped me identify the things I needed in order to gain productive experience: time to prepare, less pressure, and fewer observers. I needed the freedom to make mistakes, and I needed to replace, not relive, lessons learned from belittling experiences.

I realized that, if I was ever going to become a recording engineer, I would need to take control of the circumstances under which I worked. I needed to be honest with myself about how I reacted to certain situations, to analyze those reactions without judgement, and to choose the most effective path forward. Most importantly, I had to let go of the opinions and expectations of others. I can’t go around explaining my whole self to everyone, so they are just going to have to learn to deal with me without knowing.

Sometimes the people in the room are other gender minorities caught in their own form of survival mode. This is possibly the trickiest situation to navigate. I’ve been in “women in audio” groups that stress beating men at their game. This involves maintaining a flawless mask of competency and holding oneself to an impossible standard of professional and emotional perfection in order to force a powerful majority (men) to acknowledge the abilities of gender minorities. But playing the game under these terms is playing a power-imbalanced game, and those in power still declare the winners and losers, even if they themselves are flawed. It also leaves behind questions of race and marginalized identity. It’s ultimately an outdated game with skewed and arbitrary rules that a person could die trying to win.

What happened to me wasn’t my fault, but that’s not the point. There’s no reason to be ashamed of a weakness. We are entitled to our imperfections. We are human beings, and it takes human beings to make art. We can turn to computers for flawlessness, and they will always do “perfect” better than we can. Every deeply flawed moment of our lives is our art. What a pity, to be ashamed of being alive.

In the classroom, packing up the old Allen & Heath mixer, I told the student how I bonded with someone about crying in front of the patch bay. “I’ve had people teaching me, where I’m so anxious that I can’t understand, and then they look at me like, ‘What, are you stupid?’” I’m not sure if I was speaking to her or to myself at this point; it was a little of both. “I know I’m not stupid. This is just hard. And if you learn slow, so what? Take the time, make yourself comfortable. Honor the shape of your journey, I’m serious. Because I think you can do it.”

Recording Hygiene for The Vocal Booth (Part 1)

There are a lot of things to think about on the day of recording vocals – It’s important to dial in the “hygiene” of this process as much as possible in order to avoid any frustrating setbacks or snags along the way. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve made silly mistakes while recording, wasted time, slowed my momentum, and in some cases, had to start completely over. We’ll get into those soon, but before we do, I want to point out that most recording problems fall into two categories:

I hope to help you avoid pulling your hair out over lost studio time by capturing some of the typical ones, and in this post we’ll start with the technical side.

Part 1: Technical Recording Mistakes:

These are the sorts of callouts that are probably quick fixes but can be big headaches if not considered properly. I recommend checking all of these in your tracking session every time right before you or your producer starts recording:

Recording Environment: It’s easy to focus on gear when recording vocals, but your recording environment matters just as much. It doesn’t matter how great your microphone is if your recording space isn’t controlled and picking up background noise.

Here are some common culprits:

You don’t have to spend a lot of money to treat your room, but addressing the items above will help a ton!

Sample Rate: A suggestion is to choose the standard sample rate of 48kHz for your session. This will optimize for video/film opportunities, and why not keep that door open? That said, 44.1kHz can also be fine for a standard music release. Either way, it’s good to stick to one of those and ensure your producer/collaborators are setting the same sample rate in their project. If you don’t commit to the same sample rate and share files for the production you will run into issues with pitch shifting, playback speed, or strange artifacts.

So again, pick one sample rate from the options below:

Set Proper Pre-Amp Gain: Clipping happens when your signal level is too hot and the audio distorts. Once recorded, this distortion is permanent. This is why you have to test and set your levels of your pre-amp gain on your interface at the beginning of your session.

Aim for peaks around -12 dB to -6 dB.

The best way to set levels is to record a short test of the loudest part of your song and make sure the gain knob is adjusted enough to not result in clipped, recorded audio. If your audio is clipping, you need to bring the gain knob on your interface down…ideally you set it so there is a little bit of “head room” in your louder sections (just in case you have a really great take that is louder than your test and also in general).

Ensure a Good Headphone Mix: This is super important and often overlooked, especially if you’re a singer recording at home. There are a few things to consider to make sure that you’re comfortably hearing the track while recording final vocals:

Instrumental Track Volume: Ensure that the instrumental track is not too loud. You don’t want to compete with the instrumental while recording — this can strain your voice and lead to a forced sounding performance. An easy fix is to simply lower the instrumental track in your session. Sometimes instrumentals are already mastered, which is part of why everything sounds too loud, and in that case they may need to be lowered significantly.

Vocal Monitoring: Take time to make sure your vocal monitoring is comfortable and that you can clearly hear your voice through the headphones

Cluttered Mix: Make sure the headphone mix is not too cluttered. A cluttered mix means the singer is hearing too many instruments at once, which can make it harder to hear their voice clearly and stay in tune. Simplifying the mix often leads to a better vocal performance. You can create a simpler headphone mix by temporarily removing layers of the production if you find them distracting.

Record to Polished Instrumental: It’s really important that the vocalist is singing to an instrumental that is polished and in tune. If there is anything unfinished or off about the instrumental it might affect the way the singer performs.

Whenever possible, record vocals to a version of the track that is as close to the final arrangement as possible.

Taking a few minutes to check these technical details before recording can save you hours of frustration later.

→ In Part 2, I’ll cover the other side of vocal recording hygiene — the performance mistakes that can make or break a vocal take. Stay tuned and Happy Recording,

Dani

From Intimidation to Identity: My First Year Inside a DAW

Most of us remember the first time we used our DAW. That moment when your journey as a producer is entirely in front of you, and you have no idea what to expect or what’s coming. It’s a moment full of uncertainty, but also expectation. While at first, our beloved workstations can feel super overwhelming, it’s important to understand, as a beginner, that almost every successful producer you know and look up to faced this exact dilemma as well. While I am still in the early stages of my own personal development, I feel it’s important to share that this feeling of intimidation is completely normal at the beginning of really anything new that you’re trying. And it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of.

The First Climb

Like most of you, when I first opened my DAW, which is Logic, I felt like closing it again after five seconds. Suddenly, all the anticipation and enthusiasm I had evaporated into thin air. It felt like sitting in a crowded room with strangers that are talking about things you don’t understand, in a language that you don’t understand. I was humiliated. I was convinced that I had overestimated my technical abilities, and initially, I had. There were too many buttons, too many menus, and too many windows asking for decisions that I couldn’t even make. Every click seemed to open three more options, none of which I knew how to make sense of. I was completely lost, but thankfully, I was far from giving up.

The Noise before the Signal 

Once I got past the initial shock of simply opening the program, I did what most beginners do: I went straight to YouTube. And immediately got overwhelmed all over again. There were endless tutorials promising to teach “everything you need to know about Logic” in ten minutes. One video said to always mix this way, another said to never do that. Some producers swore by certain techniques, while others insisted the exact opposite. I didn’t just feel confused, I felt buried under new information. I had no idea what actually mattered and what was just advanced advice meant for people far beyond my level. I was trying to learn everything at once instead of learning the right things first. Looking back, this stage was just as difficult as opening the DAW for the first time: learning how to filter the noise from the signal.

Flattening the Curve

OK – slowly but surely, things started making a bit of sense. Instead of trying to master everything, I began focusing on the essentials. I learned what the basic stock plugins actually did, not just how they worked, but how they affected sound in real, practical ways. I

started understanding EQ: how to cut mud, tame harsh frequencies, and make space for different elements. I learned about de-essing vocals – the simple stuff. I discovered compression: at first by overusing it, then by finally realizing less is often more. And, of course, I went through the classic beginner phase of putting way too much reverb on absolutely everything (and wondering why oh why mix sounds so muddy).

One of the most helpful things I did was create templates in Logic: personalized settings that meant I didn’t have to rebuild my workflow from scratch every time I opened a project. Having a familiar starting point made the whole process feel far less intimidating. I finally had some points of reference.

Small Peaks Along the Way 

Once the basics stopped feeling so unfamiliar, I could finally focus on what I’d wanted to do from the start: creating. For the first time, I was able to translate abstract ideas—melodies, rhythms, little sparks of inspiration—into something real and tangible. Of course, the results were far from perfect. My early mixes wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a radio station. But it felt incredibly liberating to know my way around the essentials well enough to experiment with the sounds and tools my beautiful DAW has to offer. I obviously wasn’t making masterpieces after two months, not even close. But I had unlocked a concrete way to capture my ideas beyond the simplicity of a voice note (although I’ll obviously always be grateful for voice memos). Nevertheless, that realization alone felt like a small peak worth celebrating. From that point on, I realised I wasn’t as scared anymore. I finally felt like I could actually do this.

The First Real Milestone 

The harder I worked on improving my techniques, the more of these “small peaks” I encountered. Whether it was finishing my first few songs, remaking projects from other artists, or finally trusting my ears enough to mix without constant doubt, I realized that the more time I invested in my DAW, the more progress I saw. After about a year, I felt genuinely confident in my skills. Could I compete with professional producers? Of course not. But I had time—and so do you. Looking back, I wish someone had told me sooner to stop comparing myself to others. The moment I did, I finally felt free to make mistakes and actually learn from them.

Even with a few mixes I was proud of, I was still nervous to share them. That changed when I moved to a new city and met a producer while looking for a room to rent. We ended up talking late into the night, and when I mentioned that I made music too, he asked if he could hear it. I hesitated at first, terrified of being judged, but eventually I left him alone in his studio to listen. When he came back out half an hour later, he was emotional, telling me how beautiful he thought my work was and how much I was underselling myself.

That was my first real milestone. Since then, even though I’m just a 19 year old university student, when people ask me what I do, I say “I am a producer”, instead of “I want to be”.

How Studio Sessions Are Evolving: A Modern Look at Creativity, Collaboration, and Access

There’s been a steady shift in how studio sessions are structured. Not long ago, it was common for a label to book a studio for weeks or even months at a time, with artists writing, recording, and producing an entire album in one place. That still happens, but far less often. These days, studio sessions are more likely to be shorter, focused, and part of a wider, ongoing process rather than a single, self-contained block.

This change reflects the way music is now made. Tracks are often written and developed across multiple sessions, with different studios used for different parts: vocals in one place, drums in another, strings or additional production elsewhere. It’s not necessarily about squeezing things in, though that does happen, but about fitting into a more collaborative, fast-moving, and constantly evolving way of working.

From Start-to-Finish to Piece-by-Piece

Albums and singles are rarely built in one studio from start to finish anymore. Instead, what’s more common is a song coming together over time, through different sessions that may be spread across studios, weeks, or tour dates. An artist might record vocals in a studio between shows. A band may track drums in one studio, then book a different space for overdubs when schedules allow.

This approach has developed in part because of how collaborative music has become. Many songs today have multiple writers and producers. Coordinating everyone’s availability, especially when artists are also performing, promoting, or working on several projects, means the idea of a single, long session is less practical than it used to be.

Studios now play a more modular role in the process. One session might be used to get vocals down, another for backing vocals or edits, and another for live instrumentation or arrangement work. It’s a puzzle being assembled in stages, with sessions booked to capture specific parts as needed.

The Role of Personal Studios

Another reason for the shift is the increased accessibility of professional-grade equipment. Many producers and artists now have their own studio setups that are more than capable of handling large parts of the creative process, including writing, programming, editing, and even mixing.

This means they don’t need to book a commercial space for every part of the project. Instead, they’re more likely to use professional studios for the parts they can’t easily do themselves, such as recording drums, cutting final vocals, or capturing instruments that require high-end rooms, mic collections, or specialist engineers.

As personal studios have become more capable, professional sessions have become more focused. People come in knowing exactly what they need to do, and studios have adapted to support that kind of workflow.

More Studio Options Than Ever

At the same time, the same advances in technology that have made personal studios possible have also lowered the barrier for commercial studio setups. Many professional studios are now building leaner, more affordable spaces, often purpose-built for vocals, overdubs, or writing sessions, without compromising on quality.

This has opened up more options for artists and producers working on tighter timelines or smaller budgets. Not every session needs a large-format console and live room. Sometimes a well-treated vocal booth with a great signal chain is exactly what’s needed.

And because so many of these newer, more specialised studios operate under the radar, they can be hard to find, especially in a hurry.

That’s where services like ProStudioTime have started playing a role, giving artists and teams a way to connect with studios that fit specific session needs. In a landscape where schedules move quickly and options are increasingly varied, being able to line up the right space at the right time has become part of the workflow itself.

Booking and Discovery Are Evolving Too

In this environment, being able to find and book a suitable studio quickly is crucial. The old system of outdated directories, emails, and calls still lingers, but it’s starting to shift. Artists, producers, and managers often need to make decisions fast, based on availability, location, and what the session requires, whether that’s a solid vocal chain, a good live room, or just a quiet, focused space to get something done.

The more tools that exist to streamline this process, the more efficiently teams can build, adjust, and execute recording plans that align with an increasingly fast-paced release cycle.

What This Means for Studio Professionals

For engineers, studio managers, and producers, all of this means adapting to a more agile way of working. Sessions might be shorter, but they’re no less important and often part of bigger projects with tight timelines.

Communication, preparation, and clarity around what a session is aiming to achieve have become even more important. The engineer might be jumping in halfway through a track’s journey, so being able to work quickly and confidently without always having full context is a valuable skill.

At the same time, this shift has opened up more opportunities. Because music is being made continuously, and in more places, there are more chances to contribute, whether that’s handling a one-off tracking session, setting up for a writing camp, or helping an artist finish a last-minute mix pass before release day.

Looking Ahead

The core of the studio session hasn’t changed. It’s still about getting the best performance in the right environment. What has changed is the shape it takes, the time-frame, the workflow, and the role it plays in a broader, often multi-location creative process.

Whether you’re running a commercial facility, freelancing as an engineer, or working as part of an artist’s wider team, understanding how sessions are evolving helps you stay relevant, responsive, and ready to support the way music is being made now.

Guest Post for SoundGirls.org
Sam Rudy is a London‑based studio specialist and entrepreneur who lives and breathes recording spaces. As the founder of Pro Studio Time, Sam helps artists, managers and labels book the perfect studio anywhere in the world—fast, transparently and hassle‑free. Before launching his own platform, Sam spent over a decade at Miloco Studios, rising to Studio Manager and overseeing a roster of 160+ world‑class rooms, including London stand‑outs such as The Church Studios, Sleeper Sounds and Baltic Studios. While completing his master’s degree, Sam carried out policy research: in 2015 his thesis “Blank Media Levies … Who Pays?” was published by the now‑defunct MusicTank; he was subsequently invited by Hypebot to write an op‑ed expanding on its findings.A lifelong music obsessive and occasional DJ, Sam is happiest where great acoustics, analogue gear and good coffee meet. When he isn’t matching clients with studios, you’ll find him tending to his allotment, swapping patch cables for pumpkin seedlings.

Thea Gustafsson Producer, Songwriter, and Recording Artist

Thea Gustafsson currently records emotive alt-pop as Becky and the Birds, a project which released its debut album Only Music Makes Me Cry Now on November 8th, 2024. As recent as this seems, she has a rich background in audio, from her days at Stockholm’s famed Musikmakarna Songwriters Academy to a later internship with Aviici. In 2025, Gustafsson was awarded Producer of the Year at the Swedish Grammis and in April, she released the single “Should’ve known better (choices),” on which her accordionist father contributes some accompaniment.

 

What excites you most as a producer?

What really excites me is when I go into sounds, or twists in the sounds that are unexpected—like changing the key abruptly, or using an effect that comes in just every now and then. I love very petite changes that make a big difference in production. Every time I hear a production where I can hear that someone has put a lot of time into it, and it’s complex, it just makes me so happy.

What are some of your favorite subtle shifts that you can accomplish in a recording?

I like to put in small, hidden messages. It could be a voice sample that only I know where it comes from—like a phone call—then I just take one word from that phone call, for example, and use it as a snare. It’s things that no one else probably would hear or notice. It makes such a difference in the process of creating it. But then I really like to play with my own voice, see how I can pitch my voice, flex time my voice, or use it in various ways. That’s probably why I love samplers so much, because you never know what you’ll get. You know what you put into the sampler, but then, from there, it just gives you so many endless possibilities. Samplers: they’re my best friends.

What is your go to sampler?

I love the Serato sampler. When I got it, it was free, which was incredible. I also use the (Teenage Engineering) OP-1 a lot. I’ve been using (Native Instruments) Maschine quite a lot to chop up stuff, but I don’t find it to be quite as easy. It’s not a standalone. I’ve tried to, like, really love it–and I used to love it–but I don’t love it as much anymore. I like Maschine for drums. It’s easy to quantize, but it’s also kind of complex. You need to really learn the Maschine, and, to be honest, I’m not much of a nerd when it comes to, like, learning the instrument. I just want them to work, or if I don’t know how they work, I want them to be easy to just figure out somehow.

Tell us about your experience producing other artists.

I’ve had sessions with people where we come from different worlds, and I think that could be good. But so far, my best experiences have been with the people who have similar taste and sound. We have similar thoughts. When you find that, it’s just fun. I think it’s good as a producer too, or as an artist, to get out of your own head. You can learn so much [from] someone saying a sound that they want you to use, and it might be a sound that you have never thought of or that you would never use, but you learn so much from just trying to find that. Then I’ve been making a lot of samples for other producers, which has been really fun. It’s easy to sit and be like, “oh, I need to make a whole production of something,” but I’ve also found a way where I’m, creating ambiences–or creating soundscapes, in a way–and then I let someone else come in to make the drums or the bass. The process of adding bass is very boring to me. I’ve been quite forceful too, in my no’s. I’ve not been afraid to say no, which has been good for me as a producer. I used to jump into projects, but it’s easy to find yourself kind of scattered if you’ve done a lot of different things that you’re not really keen on.

How did you get started as a producer?

Actually, I went to a production and songwriting school, but I went in there as a top liner. This was in Sweden, and it’s a quite good school. It’s the school that a lot of good producers and songwriters have gone to, but I didn’t even know the concept of producing, so I picked top liner, But then as I got into that school and I started to write, and I wrote for others,  ended up always finding myself nagging at the producer, like, “Oh, you should try this. You should do this.” It was always male producers. I hadn’t seen a woman produce at that point. I didn’t really have any influencers or anyone that I could look up to, besides maybe Björk back then. It kind of grew out of frustration, because I saw these men just came into the studios and took over, and I didn’t even think they were good at what they were doing. So then, after a while, I kind of locked myself in, because I was so tired of everything. And I was like, I don’t want to be a top liner; this is not for me.

I started to produce by myself, because I had learned so much, because I had seen others produce. I remember that I wanted to do my artist project, but I couldn’t find a producer for it. I was just standing in line for these male producers. I had to wait, then they would start something, but they wouldn’t finish it. So then I was like, I’ll just do it myself. I did it out of anger, but also out of pure excitement. I immediately was just so blown away, like, “oh my god, why haven’t I done this sooner?” It’s one of the few things in life where I really get caught up in it, and I can just lose myself completely. Up to that point, I hadn’t really felt that feeling. It was so much fun to not know a lot about it either, because that gave me so much freedom and space to try things out, which made me ultra creative. Then, from there, I found my own ways of doing it. I remember a guy looking through my project, and he was like, “you can’t have the compressor first and then the EQ, that’s wrong.” And I was like, “Who says that it’s wrong?”

Do you still put the compressor before the EQ?

I actually put the EQ before the compressor most of the time. I know more common rules of what sounds good and what doesn’t sound good, but it’s so easy to get caught up in the rules of producing, and just forget about the creativity and the endless possibilities that are there if you actually put the compressor before the EQ [sometimes]. And it might be a sound that is way cooler than the compressor after the EQ.

Can you say the name of the school that you went to?

Musikmakarna. It’s a really good school. They split you up in groups, you know, so you’re either a “top liner” or a producer, which makes it weird. It’s weird when that’s your first interaction with the industry. You suddenly have to put yourself into a box. I think that limits you, like, “well, if I’m a top liner, I can’t be a producer.” I do think a lot of things have changed, though. This was quite a lot of years ago. I love the word creator; I just want to be a creator. And I think that, especially as a girl and as a woman, too, it’s easy to forget that you can do everything. I think society enforces [men] to be like, “I can do whatever I want,” but as a girl, you have to make everything perfect before you can say that you’re a producer. You have to produce a hit record before you can say that you’re a producer. I’m just trying to work around that all the time, and [as] soon as I try something, I’m like, “I’m that.”

Do you have someone who really helped you, like a mentor?

I didn’t really have anyone who I can say was, like, a mentor, but I did feel a lot of encouragement from people who were in the industry–from other women producers especially. I think there’s a lot of connection there, from female creators overall. I’ve found a lot of calm in talking to other girls who are making something creative, because it takes a lot from you to put yourself out there. It’s kind of vulnerable as a woman. So to see other girls being powerful, and being nerdy, or being deeply interested in something that doesn’t have anything to do with men, is very inspiring to me. Every woman, who’s making something for their own sake, has always been very inspiring to me.

So tell us about your process for making your latest album.

I was going through a breakup, and I’ve never been a big diary writer. My way has been to record myself when I’m playing piano and singing, so I did that a lot, and I just let whatever wanted to come out, come out. It came from this very intuitive place. So I would have long recordings, like 30 minutes that I had recorded, that I then took and sampled. I let those samples kind of lead the way for the whole album. Then I would add production to it, I would add drums or whatever it needed, which was hard, because a lot of them didn’t even have BPMs or a tempo. Some of them still don’t, which I have found, very freeing in a way, because I just had to accept that. Once I let go, I was like, oh, it can be whatever it wants to be.

What are some of your long term goals?

I really want to work with people, with big people, who are interesting and inspiring. I want to get more into hip hop, and use my samples there, and also more into the alternative scene, [producing] for others. I want to produce even more for others, and then release more albums. I’m moving to the US, which will be terrifying, and so much fun. I really also want to pave the way for female producers. I just want to be inspiring, and I want to stay inspired, too.

What made you gravitate toward music to begin with?

My dad is a musician, but he’s an accordion player, and he’s been very much into klezmer music and jazz. So I always started out as a little bit of an underdog, you know, because I was just listening to his records, which were klezmer records, all day long. Then I started playing violin when I was seven. I played in a lot of orchestras, and I was also writing songs for orchestras, which was my first way of expressing creativity and making songs. I think that has had a huge impact on the way that I produce, too, because I come from an orchestra perspective, and I’ve also always been singing in choirs. From that, I’m very used to different harmonies and different sections, which I’ve had a big use for in my production. I’ve always been in music, I’ve always been around music, and I think if I would have known that it was possible to produce earlier, I definitely would have. It was just that I didn’t even know that you could do it until school.

Your choir background definitely comes across in your album.

Yeah, I love choirs. It’s so much fun singing with other people. The beautiful thing about vocals is that it’s an instrument that is closest to us, because it comes right out of us; there’s no instrument in between. It’s just straight from our soul. I find that if I’ve been in an era where I’ve been only producing a lot and I haven’t been singing so much, I can feel how I’m disconnected from myself, almost. I really think singing connects you to you somehow. It’s just beautiful.

More on Thea Gustafsson

https://beckyandthebirds.com/

New single announcement: April 30th, 2025

https://www.instagram.com/beckyandthebirds/

Selected Interviews with Thea Gustaffson:

The Luna Collective

Clash Music Interview

Rosie Lowe: Producer, Songwriter, Recording Artist

Though British singer-songwriter Rosie Lowe has sustained a career as an artist for over a decade and has been recording her own music since her college days, it is with her August 2024 release Lover, Other that she took the lead on production, songwriting, and tracking. The result is a musical tapestry that crosses genres, spanning influences from R&B and electronic music to choral compositions. Her collaborators have included Little Simz, Jay Electronica, and Duval Timothy, with whom she released an album called Son in 2021.

People know you professionally as a recording artist and performer, but you have an audio background as well. Tell us about that.

I’ve always recorded my own music. When I was in Goldsmith’s University in London, we were doing a songwriting course, but you had to choose your limitations. My limitation was that I was only going to record using my voice. I was like, “I don’t want to be relying on anyone else to do this for me,” so I bought a computer and I learned Logic, got all of that equipment and spent some time with it, and it was the best thing that I did. Now I pick people that I want to collaborate [with] because I love their sound, but I think that early on, it was really important for me to do that stuff myself, not rely on someone else to make me sound how they thought I should sound. I’ve been recording and producing myself ever since, but I’ve collaborated quite a lot with producers over the years, and for this latest album, I really made a decision to steer the boat a bit more. I still collaborated, but I hand-picked where and how.

It’s interesting how you mentioned the first project that you gravitated toward being so voice-centered, because I noticed that the songs that you really took the helm on on your most recent album Lover, Other are vocal arrangements that are extremely layered and almost choir-like.

I love choral work. I love vocals as well. It’s where I feel most comfortable in a way, but also what I want to hear a lot of the time. Recording vocals is such a specific skill set, very different from producing. I actually made the decision on this album that I didn’t want to record in any soundproof rooms. I was wanting to record in open rooms and let that outside in. Some of my favorite records were recorded in that way, where you can hear stuff on the vocals, you can hear people talking, you can hear the sound of a car going by or whatever. And it’s all recorded in one take in a room. I love that. I love when recordings have life on them.

Where did you record?

At the beginning of this process, I just wanted to travel as much as possible. My main intention was to have as much fun as possible, because you never know if it’s going to be the last album you get to make. I was on the way to possibly having a child; you just never know. I reduced my studio to, like, a suitcase, and I just picked a few items. I first got on a plane to Catalonia in Spain, to a residential, and began writing there, and returned there about six times. It was just like heaven on earth. When I was there, I was in an annex that was attached to this big Spanish farmhouse. I traveled to from there to Florence, South France, Berlin, Sri Lanka, Devon, London. In Florence, there was this beautiful chapel. I sung some vocals in there that I then sampled. I recorded some of the vocals for “Sundown” in our empty flat, because we had to strip it out to renovate it. I [wanted] to record the vocals there, because there’s so much history and meaning for the song in that flat. It was the last time that I was there with my friend Steven, who the song was about.

It sounds like, from the church to the empty flat, you were going for a lot of natural reverb in your surroundings.

Yeah, absolutely. I really wanted just to create as natural sounding things as possible, and keep things quite raw. So if there was, like, a dog barking on the vocal, I wasn’t going to redo it. And it was the same with actually recording the vocals. I was only letting myself do full takes, and then trying to stay pretty true to the takes. I was trying to get myself away from the computer as much as possible, because I find that I’m a perfectionist. Really, I don’t think my best work is when I’m in that perfectionist head space, because actually, as a listener, I’m not interested in hearing like a perfect vocal. I’m interested in hearing a vocal that is free and means something.

Can you describe your studio in a bag?

It changed a little bit as I went, but it was a (Boss) SP 303. I ran a lot of the sounds from the album through the compressor on that, and I used it as a little affecting unit, as well as a little sampler. My Zoom recorder: I took that with me in my handbag, basically for the whole year and I would just record anywhere I was–little birds or my vocals somewhere, or a conversation or something, and I would layer that under things as well. I bought an (Isla Instruments) SP-2400 through the process. You can get samples on there really quick. You can also record really quickly, so it was really useful throwing stuff out and being like, “oh, dinner’s in 20 minutes. I’m just going to make something.” It was a bit more intuitive. I had my UA interface, a few mics. I had a Marantz tape recorder that I was recording a lot of the vocals onto, and a little MIDI keyboard. There was a Reslo microphone. I had a few ribbon microphones. I wish I could sing on ribbons on stage, but it’s just not possible.

Does anyone stand out as sort of a mentor, someone that you’ve learned a lot of your skills from, who elevated your approach to mixing and producing?

Dave Okumu, who was a long-term producer and collaborator and friend of mine, was definitely like a mentor, not necessarily technically as much as life-wise. They are just a very wise soul, and always encouraged me to kind of block out the noise, not listen to what people think I should be, or what other people’s opinions are of me, and just carry on, stay focused on my own path. So that’s been pretty amazing. He would always say, “is it something that you’re going to be proud of doing 10 years down the line? If it’s not, then you probably shouldn’t do it,” and I think that was really good advice. But on this album, there was one person in particular that was incredibly influential: Harvey Grant. He’s one of the best pianists I’ve ever come across. He’s an organist and just an absolute wizard on piano and harmony. He did all the string arrangements on the album, that I’d then respond to with vocal arrangements, and then we’d do it as, like a call and response. A lot of the time, in the studio, you tend to lean on the person who can do things quickest and with ease. A lot of moments where he could probably do something quicker than me, he was like, “no, no, you do that.” I think that he was really integral at being a bit of a cheerleader and pushing me to actually see things through myself sometimes, where a lot of other people I have worked with in the past would have just sat down at the computer and done it.

What advice do you have for other performers who want to extend their skill set behind the board, so to speak?

Just doing it is the best advice. Leaning into things that aren’t necessarily your skill set can bring about the most exciting sounds. Generally, in life, it’s a really good thing to do things you’re not good at. You can be really surprised by what that brings up in a positive way. A lot of the time with music production, there’s this sense that there’s a right way to do it and a wrong way to do it, but I really don’t believe in that. I don’t think it really matters how you get to the end point, as long as it represents what you imagined it to be.

Do you have any advice for women and girls in particular?

My experience is, if there are men around that can do it, they probably will. [Try] to get it done yourself behind closed doors, chiseling away and not being scared to push through what it is that you want. There’s a lot of egos in this industry, and sometimes, if you don’t have much of an ego, then you just have to kind of pretend that you do. I don’t go into studio being like, “No, I’m doing that.” But I can be like, “I don’t think that’s quite what I imagined.” There’s a lot of incredible, amazing, supportive men, and I think it’s just about finding your crew and sticking with them, but also working with other women. I love writing with other women so much. You can just open up and write a song with so much joy and ease in my experience.

More on Rosie Lowe:

https://rosielowe.bandcamp.com/

Selected Interviews with Rosie Lowe:

August 2024: Composer Magazine

August 2024: Clash

August 2024: F Word Magazine

Unfinished Symphony To Swan Song: What The Future May Hold

Keeping up with technological developments can sometimes feel impossible, as the changes arrive bolder and faster than ever before. Living in 2024 has often crossed into the realm of watching childhood sci-fi become a reality for those of us past a certain age, and it brings with it a series of feats as well as quandaries.

When Tupac’s hologram “performed” at Coachella 2012, it was talked about for weeks – we re-watched and spoke about it around the proverbial water cooler time and again, and it’s astonishing looking back at just how many other technological developments have been implemented in the decade since, and the relentless pace at which these creations keep coming.

Get Back To The Future

The 2021 Peter Jackson documentary The Beatles: Get Back utilised de-mix technology, meaning that the musical parts could be isolated, re-built, and edited in high quality with modern-day digital methods, with an overall effect that hit like a person living in 1955 hearing Johnny B. Goode for the first time. By the end of 2023, the documentary team and the wizards at Abbey Road Studios had achieved the unlikely task of creating an all-new Beatles track – taking the starting point of a rough vintage demo recording of John’s vocals, and adding George’s guitar parts from a 1995 session, with Paul, Ringo, and an orchestral string ensemble recording in the present day. Bearing in mind that Lennon‘s demo was a 1978 tape recording of vocal and piano, it’s quite the leap to hear the 21st century final track of Now and Then. With a creation process that spanned five decades, the emergence of this technology meant that the group could turn the “Unfinished Symphony” into a Swan Song.

Paul McCartney spoke about the decision to go ahead with the track in the mini documentary that accompanied the song’s release, saying:

“George and Ringo came down to my studio. Nice day. Fabulous day,” recalls McCartney of the ’95 reunion. “We listened to the track. There’s John in his apartment in New York City, banging away at his piano, doing a little demo. Is it something we shouldn’t do? Every time I thought like that, I thought, ‘Wait a minute. Let’s say I had a chance to ask John, ‘Hey John, would you like us to finish this last song of yours?’ I’m telling you, I know the answer would’ve been: Yeah! he would’ve loved that.

Just a few short months after the release of Now and Then, the long-awaited version of Logic Pro 11 included the new “Stem Splitter” feature, bringing this de-mix technology into portable home studios of the world. The accessibility, low cost, and ease of use with such an advanced feature is astonishing, and it makes me wonder what possibilities lie ahead in the months and years to come.

Creatives And Computers

There have been many famous “Unfinished Symphonies” which have been completed by others. Mozart’s Requiem still remains shrouded in suspicion as to how much his faithful assistant Franz Xaver Süssmayr may have contributed to it, while the Queen album Made in Heaven was completed by the remaining three band members following Freddie Mercury’s passing. In the literary world, Eoin Colfer authored And Another Thing… which was the sixth and final installment of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy with the blessing of Douglas Adams’ widow Jane Belson, while David Lagercrantz did the same with Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Series.

While there’s no doubt that these well-loved creations were crafted in honour and admiration, we are currently living in times that pose the question of just exactly where the line is between a homage from a friend or superfan, and something more ethically ambiguous. YouTube announced last year the upcoming launch of their new text-to-music creation Dream Track – an AI voice & music cloning tool that will create music for YouTube Shorts “in the style” of collaborating artists including John Legend, Alec Benjamin, Charlie Puth, and Charli XCX. This technology comes from Google’s DeepMind and Lyria, a music generation model that will mean users simply choose one of the artists and enter a prompt. The result will be a 30-second track with lyrics in an AI-generated voice, along with music, all in the style of the chosen artist.

Looking at how quickly de-mix technology hit the shelves, I wonder how far away we are from being able to create entire albums in the style of our favourite artists, with just a few clicks from the couch? And just how easy will it be to hijack this technology and apply it to all artists and music, whether they have partnered/opted-in or not? Are we looking at a day pretty soon when it will be possible to prompt the technology to provide us with a new “Beatles” track, singing about our exact situation in the style of our choosing, and then repeat the process ad infinitum?

Individual use of this technology admittedly sounds intriguing, however, if altered and computer-generated images of figures such as Marilyn Monroe and Albert Einstein can freely be used in advertising campaigns in the present day, what are the implications for other uses of creative works in the “style” of an artist, but which are not officially created or owned by anybody?

From the era of Tupac’s resurgence into our current Deepfake confusion, it’s becoming harder to decipher just what is real anymore, therefore is there a possibility that we will soon hear the musical equivalent of this with the advent of programs such as Dream Track? Additionally, the question arises that if I’m so inclined, and decide to make enough tweaks and changes to my generated “Beatles” song to make it my own, record it, and release it – did its creation truly come from The Beatles, the program/company, or from me?

Looking Ahead

Experts in the technology field advise caution across the board when it comes to the use of new developments, as would be expected. One such expert, Ray Kurzweil, author of The Singularity Is Nearer says: “Exponential growth in technology means we must prepare for changes beyond our current imagination.” I appreciate his choice of words, as the discourse around the definition of imagination is always the most perplexing thing when it comes to the creative process, and is the frequent focus of current issues with generated content. Everyone from the ancient Greeks to the modern day has theorised on what the heck imagination actually is, what defines genius and originality, and even whether supernatural external forces exist and give people a hand.

Perhaps looking simply at the similarities between the way machine learning and the human brain both work with information is a good enough starting point. Our creative processing tools are certainly similar to computers in the way they are an amalgam of our retained knowledge, influences, preferences, and output intentions, the difference being they are merely wrapped in a human bow of neuroses and emotion. Many have argued that there is no such thing as true originality, and perhaps it’s fair to say the ancient philosophical dilemma has simply modernised and gone digital. There’s undoubtedly a cycle of human imagination broadening when technology provides us with more capabilities, and this spiralling dance of expansion is what Kurzweil has predicted for years – leading to the point of singularity he speaks of when the technology eventually surpasses us.

While the future is filled with potential that my mind cannot comprehend, it’s clear we are standing on the shoulders of giants, with easy access to more information and tools than ever before. Documentarian Peter Jackson has hinted that he has more footage tucked away, meaning there could be further unheard real Beatles songs to come, and of course, there are the infinite possibilities of whatever music cloning and generative tools lay ahead. It’s an exciting time to observe and be a part of, and I for one am optimistic about expanding the limits of our current capabilities.

Recording Acoustic Music in an Ambient Space

While many genres of music are customarily recorded in a studio, with overdubbing and flexible acoustics (vocal booths, acoustic panels, etc.) giving options to create a dry or wetter sound and allowing complete creative control sound’s resonance, genres such as classical, jazz and folk usually require the musicians to be playing in the same physical space together, and often rely on the acoustic to enhance the music.

What are some factors that we should keep in mind when recording these kinds of ensembles and bands?

Deciding on a space

Choosing an acoustically flattering space for the size of the ensemble and type of instruments is important when aiming to capture a naturally resonant sound. Classical music recordings (and live concerts) are usually made in spaces such as churches and large halls with acoustics that naturally enhance the sound of the instruments. Some jazz and other acoustic genre recordings also use resonant spaces to create a unique sound (the German label ECM is a great example). Digital or analog reverb can of course be used to further enhance the acoustic, but starting with a great-sounding space will be a huge advantage. You and/or the musicians should get an idea of the space before the recording session: by visiting and seeing the size of the space, hearing the reverb time, reflections, and how sound reacts there, or listening to another recording that was made in the space, or attending a performance there.

Direct sound vs. room sound

When you know what kind of space you will be recording in and how resonant it is, you can decide on how to record it. While simple acoustic recordings can be achieved with a stereo pair of microphones to capture a soloist or ensemble in a room, if you have access to multiple microphones, it will give you the option to blend between the close sound of each instrument and to produce a far more detailed recording.

An important aspect of the acoustic recording is finding a good balance between a main microphone array that captures the whole ensemble (e.g. stereo configurations such as AB, ORTF, and Decca Tree, or a surround setup), and spot microphones that are placed close to each instrument to pick up more detail. An additional pair of ambient microphones could also be placed much further away from the ensemble to capture more of the sound of the space and have the option to blend it in.

The space’s reverb time and how pleasant it naturally sounds could affect your microphone choice and type of stereo setup. For example, a naturally flattering acoustic might be best captured by an AB set up with omni mics, while a space that has a very long reverb time might be better balanced by using an ORTF with cardioids, and no additional ambient mics. Jazz, folk or music in a small dry acoustic will likely benefit from more use of the direct spot mic sounds with a tasteful amount of room acoustic blended in for cohesiveness.

Placement of microphones and musicians

When capturing a soloist or a whole ensemble with a stereo or surround microphone array, along with the acoustic space around it, your placement of the microphones and the players will affect all aspects of how it sounds: the depth, frequencies, panning, and potential issues such as phase. Depending on the shape of a space, placing the main microphone array higher above the ensemble can sometimes sound better than placing them further back. Think about how near or far each instrumentalist is to the main mic array, as well as how far left or right.

Another thing to note: while positioning the microphones and musicians in the space in a way that will allow you to capture the best sound is ideal, sometimes you might need to compromise for the players to move to their preferred spot to see and hear each other better and to obtain the best musical performance and balance that they can.

Another aspect to consider is the delay between the main microphones and each spot microphone. Some audio engineers like to measure and account for this delay by recording a loud click sound close to the microphone capsule, measuring the milliseconds or samples of difference in the waveforms between the main mic and the spot, and inputting this delay on the corresponding channel in the DAW so that the waveforms line up. In some cases, this can make the sound clearer and better, while in other cases it might sound better without inputting the delay. It’s all down to what you hear!

Further learning

This text is only a small introduction to the topic of capturing music within an acoustic space. If you’re starting out with this kind of recording, it’s a good idea to read more in-depth on acoustic music recording, stereo and surround techniques, and room acoustics. If possible, shadow an audio engineer on a location recording session, and most importantly gain experience by doing recordings in different spaces and learn by experimenting!

Photo by India Hooi of recording session with Duo Otero.

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