From Here To The Infirmary . . . Why Is Finishing A Record So Very Hard To Do?

Why is finishing a record so goddam hard? Oh, the writing, recording, overdubbing, arranging, mixing, editing – they’re all hard as shit too. But finishing? Locking it up? Admitting there is no more to be done or that you are out of time? Out of money? That’s the crunch time that demands balls of steel. A will power unequaled by mere mortals. Starting is easy. Fuck starting. Any moron can start. Finishing separates the men from the boys. Or is that a crowbar?

I just finished producing and cowriting a new CD for my record label (blatant plug) with two amazingly talented singers and songwriters, Jessica New and Dannielle DeAndrea. (paid endorsement) The group is called Sweet 17 and the name of the CD is SupaBeat. Order yours now! (Call to action in infomercial parlance)

It couldn’t have been a more pleasurable experience. We laughed, we cried, we spilled juice on our good pants, we got along like best friends, we pushed the limits of our creativity, we learned a lot about each other – like who likes to get spanked when in the throes of passion but that’s another (much more interesting) blog, we learned about ourselves, we all grew as writers and artists, and we all enhanced our lives. Goddam love fest, huh? This time yes. But it doesn’t always turn out that way. I’ve learned that the hard way.

So this enjoyable experience got me to thinking about two things that are guaranteed to happen while you make a record and how embracing these two concepts will make your life better. And by better I mean, enjoyable, fulfilling. Concepts that steer you away from aneurisms and stress inflicted strokes.

1. “You’re going to spend a lot of time on it so do it with people you like.” Don’t bother trying to keep count of the hours – you will spend a lot more time than you ever thought possible working on this record. Alone. With your partners. With musicians. With those voices in your head. Morning. Night. Weekends. Holidays. Funerals. Making a record nearly kills me every time – sheer exhaustion - and if I had to do it with someone I didn’t like? Either it would never get done or someone (I’m in favor of the unlikable character) would have to die a slow painful death. It’s just too much pressure, too goddam hard, too demanding – and to attempt it with people you don’t admire, people you don’t like? You did that in your marriage – why do it with your music? Pick your partners for their creativity AND their likeability. Who cares if some asshole is really good at lyrics if being with them gives you the runs? You’ll never really love the song you write together. It might become a hit and it might make you some money – and you will like that – but you will never like the song because that song will always make you shit your pants. And not in a good way. Work with talented people you like. Aim for less soiling of shorts. It’s unattractive for artists of your stature.
2. “It will never be perfect.” Yep, no matter how many lap dances or Christmas mornings you miss, it will never be perfect. It’s like one of those gameshows where they give you the winnings at the beginning and you try desperately to lose as little as possible throughout the show. Although every project starts off with aspirations of 100% perfect. 100% amazing. We slowly fuck it up until we decide we’re done and that’s the number we’re left with. I guess I could be less pessimistic and say that a song begins at zero and your unrivaled genius raises it day after day until you begin to approach God-like perfection of 100% perfect until you run out of steam, time or money. But it feels more to me like creativity is handed to me in a kind of confused state of perfection and my job is to sort it out as best I can. Get out of the song’s way, gently guide it, coax it to the perfect spot. It’s a puzzle, that inherent in it’s design, is the fact that you will never be able to fit all the pieces together. Some pieces will be left out. Pieces fall by the wayside. Like sand falling thru your fingers. To try and hold all that sand, to tighten your grip, often makes the process less enjoyable. And the outcome less desirable. I think we’re supposed to drop some of the sand – or maybe a lot of it. Maybe by dropping the sand we find the beautiful shell hidden in it. We started with expectations of what perfect is and as we dig deeper into our project we realize it isn’t that at all. It is what it is. So it will never be perfect. And it isn’t supposed to be. Perfect doesn’t make you feel welcome. Perfect isn’t personal. Perfect doesn’t make people happy. When you get down to picking the nits on your recordings, by far most of them have been scrutinized with a Hubble telescope clamped to your head. Give them some damn distance. Look at your nits with regular old human eyes. Embrace the charm of human error and randomness. This is your recording; you are allowed to be human.

And to that point, as the girls and I got down to the end of the record, and we were living with my 5th version of “final mixes” – we all had comments and/or notes to address. Most of the fixes went quickly. A couple we fought over – it wasn’t that anyone was right or wrong (but since you asked . . I was always right and they were wrong) – they were differences of opinion with no right answer. But there was one line in the first verse of a song. It just didn’t seem right in pitch, or rhythm or something. I fiddled, fucked and fondled that line with Autotune and Melodyne and editing and just about every trick I could come up with and it seemed kind of OK. Pretty good. We were on a deadline to finish. We all agreed it was fine – OK, one of us was still unconvinced. But we beat her into submission.

I boarded a plane to Hawaii, recording done – free upgrade to First Class – congratulations from the captain – sex in the bathroom with the flight attendants. All of the things normally associated with finishing the recording of an independent release. Three days into the trip, I throw the CD on to take a listen. Might as well have one more listen while the graphics guys finish up - before we press ourselves into posterity. When I heard that troubled vocal line, I knew it wasn’t good enough. Maybe I convinced myself before that it was good enough because we were out of time. Maybe not. Doesn’t matter. I knew the girls had to resing it. Record on hold. Not what I was looking for, but we had already delayed once because we thought one or two songs could be better – and we were right. We fixed it when I got home. And now the recording was done. Almost.

And this is where finishing the recording feels like only one small part of finishing the record. Graphics, mastering, duplication, marketing. . . . (loud scream heard behind back shed)

Off to mastering. I used Brian “Big Bass” Gardner at Bernie Grundman Mastering. Big Bass does all the big hits out there. The guy is the Zeus of mastering. But I gotta wait 3 weeks for an appointment. Sure, I should have scheduled ahead of time. Don’t bust my balls here. After numerous postponements, I wasn’t really sure when we would finish. But we get in. Brian massages his knobs, tweaks and twiddles, caresses and coos – OK, maybe I didn’t hear any actual cooing from Brian, it might have been me ogling the double platinum records on the walls. Next day, reference CD. I want to remix a song. Mastering can change things. Change things a lot. Especially at the levels of compression we’re all used to nowadays. I remix. I drop off the new mix and give Brian a couple of brief notes on a couple of other songs. A new reference CD. Somewhere in the shuffle, the new mix doesn’t get mastered. The other fixes sound great. Brian finds the right mix. Another reference.

As I pick up this latest reference, I’m on cloud 9. The record is done. Nearly. I can smell victory. I’m in Hollywood so victory smells like summer sweat and day old dog urine. One more careful listen in the studio and it is off to the pressing plant. I can’t resist. I shove the CD into my car CD player. I’m rockin’. I’m really diggin it. No traffic, I’m home in ten minutes. I hit the eject button – ready for my final listen in the studio – the CD JAMS IN MY CAR STEREO! It’s stuck. I get the tweezers. A long screwdriver. KY jelly. I reach for the hammer. I’m ready to tear the fuckin dash out of the car. I want this record done so bad. I feel like that female marathon runner a few Olympics back who crawled to the finish line like she’d had a stroke and there was nothing that could stop her from finishing. Finishing. Why is it so goddam hard?

I’m beat up, bloodied, bruised and sober. It’s a bad day. I drive to the car dealer and beg the service technician to get the CD out. He takes my predicament to heart and says “You’re fucked maestro, we have to remove the whole stereo and send it to the factory.” As a favor, he can put a rush on it – 6 weeks. Then they’ll send me the CD. 6 weeks - $600.00! Another reference cost $175. Not a call I want to make. I make the call. 5 hours later I have another disc. (Thank you Marie!) 11 at night, in the studio. I load the disc. The music starts and with the first few notes, the hassles, the difficulties, the hurdles, the obstacles – they begin to melt away. And I realize the importance of this. The important thing is NOT how good the record is. The important thing is the miraculous human ability to conceive something and then execute. To finish. To create. To be alive. To finish.

And that feeling is so rewarding it is worth putting ourselves through almost any amount of suffering.

Of course the record isn’t finished yet. Graphics and pressing still to go. More to come.