More Dialogue with Mew: Copenhagen's Finest

Formed 20 years ago in a suburb of Copenhagen, Mew was first in a wave of indie bands to come out of Denmark. While their earliest recordings may hint at more challenging music to come, nobody could have anticipated that they would eventually create some of the most complex pop music ever made. Their songs effortlessly blend indie pop, prog, electronic, dance, and orchestral rock. The band wasn't afraid to play with time signatures, nor were they restricted by convention, only to reveal themselves after multiple listens. Slots supporting R.E.M. and Nine Inch Nails have elevated their status further. (R.E.M.'s Mike Mills once told me that "The Zookeeper's Boy" was one of his favorite songs of the last ten years.) They have been extremely active in the recording process, and have released many video snippets of their creative methods, going so far as to include a bonus DVD detailing the making of ... And The Glass Handed Kites with their concert film, Live In Copenhagen. The 2015 release of the album + - marks the return of bassist Johan Wohlert, who amicably departed in 2006, reuniting the unparalleled rhythm section that is him and drummer Silas Utke Graae Jørgensen, along with guitarist Bo Madsen. I sat down with singer and multi-instrumentalist Jonas Bjerre to discuss their history and surprisingly diverse collaborations, as well as the new album's journey from defunct auto garage, to the basement of a piano shop, to a high-end facility, to eventually helping to resurrect a legendary Copenhagen studio. 

Before Mew, did you have any early experiments with recording?

I did actually. The most wonderful present I ever got was when my dad bought me this beige Tascam 4-track. I still have it, but it doesn't work anymore. It had a high speed setting, so you could get better quality. In some ways that was always my favorite instrument. It was obviously a very small "studio," but it was a means to learn how to multitrack, and get different instruments to work together. There's a video on YouTube of one of our earliest demo versions of "Panda" that was recorded on that 4-track. It sounds pretty good.

Were you just recording your own songs or as a band?

We did some stuff as a band with that 4-track. I was very prolific then. It's very different now, but back then I'd write a song almost every day. I think the limitation of having four tracks was very good, because you just had to make it work. I'd have a vocal track, acoustic guitar, and then I had an old accordion that my grandmother gave me, and then maybe a track for some percussion. That was how we recorded in the beginning. I found out later that you were able to bounce down tracks, and that obviously opened things up a bit.

With your new education did you start to listen to music differently? Were there any albums that stuck out as particularly inspirational?

I loved The Beatles' Magical Mystery Tour record, and Pet Sounds . Later I read how Brian Wilson saw the studio as an instrument, and a way of orchestrating things. Recording is one of my favorite bits of being in a band. It's wonderful to make it all come together like that.

You often double your voice with the piano too.

Yeah, we do that live as well. Nick [Watts, touring keyboardist] plays a lot of my melodies as I sing. It's nice; it makes me sound good!

Do you ever take into consideration how you'll play a song live when you're making production decisions?

No. We do have a lot of challenges with that, but it can't really interfere with making the album. We figure it out later. Having Nick helps — he's definitely a multitasker.

How did the Bang & Olufsen partnership happen?

We're not on Sony anymore. There was very little of our team there toward the end, and it felt right to move on. It just doesn't make sense for us to be on a major label, or even a traditional label, because times are different now, and a label's role has changed a lot. We're really trying to do everything on our own terms and finding the right partners to do interesting things with. The people at B&O Play are just very curious about how we do things, and wanted to do something with us. We talked with them for a long time, and ended up making a unique app. They're collaborators, but they aren't putting out the record. We're doing that with Play It Again Sam. One of the frustrations of being on a major label had been that territories, which we feel are very important to us, like France and Germany, have been difficult to navigate. Obviously we had some muscle there, because we were on a major label, but still, they didn't sign you, some guys in America did, and they might not like the band. If you have five people working for you at a label, and none of them understand what you do, you're kind of screwed. Even if they'll put it out, they won't really back it up. That's just natural, how it is, and I don't think that model works very well anymore, especially now that record sales are so low anyway. When we were considering labels, we wanted to make sure that the people who would be working with our music really wanted to, in all territories. With Play It Again Sam, we feel we've gotten that, and much more. It's been a pleasure working with them so far, and I feel like we're in good hands.

www.mewsite.com

Special thanks to Rob Thomson and Adam Daly.

On June 12th, 2013, citizens of Copenhagen may have been confused at the sight of a small army of headphoned people, walking around parks, pointing their iPhones at trees, the sky, and under rocks. That day, Bang & Olufsen, along with Mew, had released a beta version of a free, unique app called "Sensory Spaces," which sends the listener in search of vocal, guitar, and drum tracks, that seem to be hiding in unlikely places, by directing them with audible "warmer" and "colder" cues. Oscar Lashley, of B&O PLAY, explains how it came about. 

"We wanted to work with them because we feel we share some of the same beliefs about high quality and craftsmanship. Many of us at B&O think of Mew as a band that is uncompromising in their pursuit of symphonic excellence. It's clear that they pay attention to every single sonic element of their music. In their field they're more or less unmatched. Their musical versatility is impressive, and their harmonies give me goosebumps. 

Our creative team worked closely with them to develop something new that reflected both B&O and Mew. "Sensory Spaces" was the result. It's basically a musical journey for the listener, that happens inside his or her own imagination. Using sound, and the built in accelerometer of the mobile device, the user essentially navigates through a sonic treasure hunt inside of an imaginary sound universe. We thought of it as a gift from us to fans of Mew. Of course those of us at B&O appreciate that it sounds particularly great through a pair of good headphones!

Slias creating tracks for Sensory Spaces app.

Sensory Spaces is still available for free at the iTunes store.

Michael Beinhorn and Mew

I had no prior knowledge of Mew before coming onboard to produce ... And The Glass Handed Kites , which is generally how I prefer to work with artists, anyway. Their music struck me as a rare combination of engaging, confusing, clever, and complicated. I was captivated, compelled, and saw my role as trying to adjust the ratios of those ingredients until they felt just right.

We did the recording at my old studio in Venice Beach, which was brimming with character, but difficult to maneuver around. Since I was handling a lot of the engineering, I was constantly running up and down the stairs to place and adjust guitar mics, snake cables through holes in the floor, etc. It was a great workout, if a bit inefficient. 

Another feature of the studio was that it was apparently haunted. As we wound down to the end of the project, Jonas began staying there so he could work into the night. Arriving for work at the studio one day, I was met by an ashen Jonas who, by virtue of his Danish-ness is already quite pale. Utterly freaked out, he claimed that the previous evening he'd had an encounter. He'd been working in an upstairs room, and heard glasses clinking and voices murmuring downstairs. Sometime later, he heard a rush of heavy footsteps up the stairs leading to the closed door where he was working. In both cases, he opened the door in a state of terror, but no one was there. Whatever it was that Jonas encountered, no one else experienced anything similar, and it never happened again. 

In 2012, my wife Jordan and I met Jonas and his then-girlfriend Agnete for dinner in Los Angeles. It was a pleasure to see my old friend after a few years had passed. However, I began to notice that whenever Jonas was addressing what he, Bo, and Silas were up to, his face began to flush, the pitch of his voice started rise and flutter and his eyes got really wild. This gave me the impression that he was quite stressed, which was even more obvious after he told me that they planned on recording their entire next album in their rehearsal studio, which, in a former incarnation had been an auto repair shop. They also intended on self-producing. At this declaration, I detected a palpable choking sound in Jonas' voice.

What could I do, but implore him to not make such rash decisions and let me help them, if only as an adviser? A few days later, I began Skype conversations with Bo, Jonas and Silas and we discussed moving forward with me advising them, and helping steer things. After about two weeks, they asked if I'd take a more active role and produce their next record. A few months later, I was in Copenhagen reviewing songs

Damon Tutunjian, of Swirlies, explains how he began his long-time friendship with Mew.

www. michaelbeinhorn. com

Swirlies had a PO Box in Harvard Square. Lots of kids used to send us fan mail, demo tapes, or boxes full of the weirdest crap they could think of. One day, I think in 1996, when we were recording They Spent Their Wild Youthful Days in the Glittering World of the Salons , I got a tape from a band called Mew. It had a fairly ridiculous black and white cover, with a panda bear being hugged by a girl with no nose. Maybe there were red hearts all over it too. They were fans of Blonder Tongue Audio Baton, and had seen us play in Copenhagen, in January 1994. I have a picture I took of the audience, and you can actually see Bo and Jonas in it. I listened to everything people sent me, so my girlfriend and I put the tape in her boom box, pushed "play," but it was blank. We both thought it was so hilarious. So I wrote Mew a postcard to let them know their error. They immediately sent a new copy, and it was incredible. "Say You're Sorry" was the lead track. I think there were three other songs. There was this girl singing really nice, high harmonies, and it reminded me of Pale Saints. I wrote them to tell them how much I liked it. I made a mix tape on the original one they sent. Six months later, they wrote again, and asked me to produce their record. I didn't think I could possibly do it on my own. I told them I'd consider it if Rich Costey, who had worked with us on a number of our records, would do it with me. I called Rich, but he said no. I just couldn't convince him to do it. We had a similar conversation later, prior to him working on Frengers , so I think I must have won that one. Then Bo called and talked me into doing it on my own, with the help of Morton, the engineer. We settled on four to five weeks in January 1997 and 1,000 bucks reimbursement for my work, which was probably the most money I'd ever seen at one time back then. Rich was kind enough to help me figure out a list of outboard gear and mics to request. I arrived in Copenhagen to start work on what would become A Triumph For Man , met with them, and asked "so, where's the girl singer", and they said "girl? That's Jonas!"

Christian Alex Petersen tells us "My footprint on the Mew record is actually quite a coincidence."

www. rcarchives. com/swirlies

I've been an admirer of Mew since Frengers, which was produced by Rich Costey, came out in 2003, before I ever knew anything about audio engineering. I tend to like albums that capture my attention more than a particular artist, and I was drawn to this record, with its strange sound and original arrangements.

I was working as a tape op/Pro Tools guy at a studio in Copenhagen, located in a basement, below a piano store. Mew needed a place to record piano and, because of the location, we could offer a lot of options. The band, and Michael Beinhorn, who was producing the record, booked three weeks. They had recorded the drums and bass at another studio in Copenhagen. I was given a hard drive that was a huge mess. They didn't have an assistant who knew the session's location or tracks. No track sheet, nothing. 

We got things up and running, and I really enjoyed the passion these guys came with. Michael was determined to get the best possible sound, even if we had to turn the studio upside down. He really got me into using my ears in every stage of the recording. Nothing is left to "fix in the mix" with him. My mentor, Freddy Albrektsen, who is a great recording and mix engineer, designed some incredible preamps called the Danfield MX30T. We used these on all of the mics. 

Up to this point I had only assisted Freddy on different types of sessions, from classical quartets, and jazz, to soul, and heavy rock. I did do my own with some artists, on the side, but nothing of note. Now I had become Michael's assistant engineer. Every day I got to watch great artists and a renowned producer work, but I figured it would be over at the end of the three weeks. 

Things weren't working sonically in the piano studio, so they decided to move elsewhere, and asked me if I would help them at the band's space in the meantime. I started out working part time, about two days a week, and then they asked me to go full time, for the rest of the project. Their drummer, Silas [Utke Graae Jørgensen], told me I was probably the only assistant that had fulfilled Michael's vision of an assistant engineer. I quit my job at the other studio, and I when I arrived at the band's studio, it hit me: I'm working with the most highly respected bands in Denmark and one of the greatest producers on the world. How the hell did this happen?

I started working side by side with Michael every day, and was now the engineer of the record. Out of the gate it was really hard, because the sessions on the drive were a big pile of pieces, for 12 different puzzles, that had to be assembled. Eventually we started recording the guitars. It was a really drawn out process, because we all wanted the absolute best sounds. If that meant 100,000 takes and trying 100,000 amps and guitars, we would do it, but the whole thing became one of the highlights of the sessions for me. 

Bo [Madsen, guitar] and Michael could be the best friends and each other's worst enemy trying to achieve the same goal. But when the parts finally came together, and the sound was right, every one of us could feel that it just fit so perfectly. All the effort the guys put into it, was worth it. Russell Lisack, from Bloc Party, guested on some guitar tracks. He's a really cool guy, and he worked very fast. 

Nick Watts, who is Mew's touring keyboardist, came in to redo some piano parts. On one track we recorded a huge, concert size Steinway in a room totally made out of concrete. It had the perfect, strange reverb effect. 

In the meantime I was looking for a studio. I finished a soul record with a Danish artist called Jorgen Klubien, was at a meeting with Sony Music, and it came up that the famous Grapehouse Studio was for sale. My mentor Freddy and I decided to buy it. I'd rebuild the studio during the night, after the Mew sessions.

As the Mew sessions and the Grapehouse upfits neared completion, Michael had to return to the US. By working with him I became more and more aware of what he wanted, so he trusted me with finishing up. I met with the band, and they asked me if I was up for it. Of course I was, even though it's also a little terrifying being handed that kind of responsibility by one of the best Nordic Bands.

The sessions were so big that we moved into the new-and-improved Grapehouse studios to compile everything. We listened through a piece of history: the first SSL 4000A, which is one of the greatest mixing consoles ever made.

We did some final overdubs, and then began editing. Mew have many ideas and pieces in their arrangements, so we experimented with cutting out some tracks. We had extremely full days, due to a deadline we had with Rich Costey, who would mix it. I slept in the studio a few nights, and some nights I didn't sleep at all. 

It was just as tough on the band. Luckily they all lived close to the studio. I think that mattered a lot, in the end. The location made everything easier, and since it's a beautiful, inspiring neighborhood, we often went for walks to clear our heads. 

We sent it off to Rich for mixing. I was really relieved — we made the deadline, and now my job was done. Or so I thought... Bo called me one night and said that Rich wouldn't be able to do all of the mixes. Could I send the session to a different mix engineer? I suggested having me do a mix, just for the fun of it, since I had been on the project for so long. It was the third time that I thought I was done on the project, and then came back to it. They ended up loving what I did, and asked me to give three tracks my best shot. Two of those made it to the album. 

I mixed entirely analog on an SSL G console, with some really nice outboard gear, in my new studio. Even with the pressure of the deadline I decided to mix entirely out of the box, and it went smoothly. I'd been raised on Freddy's SSL, and I didn't have to use a lot of time thinking about which plug-in EQ to reach for. Not having too many gear decisions creates an excellent workflow. 

The experience with Mew was a real game changer for me. I went from being an assistant in a not-so-great studio, to being a studio owner, and a mix engineer, for one of my absolute favorite rock bands, all in a matter of months. I became dear friends with a band who I truly respect for their artistic skills, I learned so much from Michael, who is an incredible producer. He changed the way I hear music. I trust my own ears, and make confident decisions. I enjoyed every moment of it, despite all the challenges. 

Grapehouse hosts open house social events, and an in-house sessions series with bands who are working there.

Here's one with Harmonics.