Ariel Rechtshaid is busy. Last year alone he released productions with Charli XCX, Tobias Jesso Jr., Brandon Flowers, Little Boots, Carly Rae Jepsen, Adele, Lower Dens, and some pop singer named Madonna. He's clearly not read the latest studies on the importance of a healthy "work-life balance." When I got ahold of him, he was in a session with Haim for the follow-up to their breakthrough debut album, Days Are Gone. He stepped out of the studio for an hour to discuss his journey, from being a whiz kid SoCal ska punk to being one of the most sought-after producers in popular music.
How did you get your start in recording?
Well, I was always into music and my parents' records, and I knew what I liked when I heard it. Simultaneously, stumbling into playing in a band, and being in a position where I was making music, I realized I couldn't get it to be the way I wanted it to be. It was such a foreign language; it was so abstract to me. I had no idea how to express myself musically, or how to capture it in the way I wanted to hear it. It was a powerless feeling - I'm talking about when I was a teenager. I got through making a record and toured on a punk rock, DIY level. It was with a band called The Hippos. I started it when I was 15 years old. It was a learning experience. That was about the time when Pro Tools came out on the consumer level - I was 18. Before that, I was all about 4-track recording. I had more luck with the Tascam than I did with Pro Tools. It had a lot to do with the limitations directing the process, which, years later, brought me back to the analog recording I do now. It's something about the audio quality, but it's also a lot about the process when you're using analog equipment. Anyway, when I started recording, the studios had Pro Tools and I couldn't figure out how to get it to sound right, so I experimented at home. I found that to be more interesting than touring or being in the spotlight. That's how I got into it.
Tell me more about using tape.
Well, it's not a secret that there's a sonic quality that comes with it. Experimenting, I've found that I enjoy 1-inch, 8-track and 16-track, 2-inch formats. I'm not married to any one method that I do at any time, but there are different parts of the process where I like to include tape. It's for the sonic quality, but also for the space of mind - you're trying to get real performances. There's a different mindset it puts you in when you know you're recording to tape. You record all the way through [the song]. Sometimes less is more. That's a clichéd statement, but it's true. Even with mics, less mics equals less phase issues, equals fatter sound. A simple mic situation can get you the fattest, most modern sounding recording you can imagine. Whereas the more complex drum recording can be used for, on the average, a '90s sound.
Since you're part of a younger generation of producers, I'm a bit surprised that you're using tape regularly. Are you tracking to tape, or using it more as a mixing technique?
All of the above. I really like it. I'm not always working with rehearsed bands, so I've developed a way to incorporate the best of digital and analog. I usually half normal my patchbay so that the mic pre's signals are going to Pro Tools and my tape machine at the same time, and then going from the tape machine back to Pro Tools. So they print simultaneously, but on the playback you don't monitor [directly] from the tape, you monitor from Pro Tools. I'll do that at my own place. As long as nothing is wrong with the tape's signal chain (which does happen with old equipment), I slide the tape [track in Pro Tools] back so it's where it's supposed to be, in terms of a click or pre-recorded material [to compensate for the latency in the tape machine signal]. And I get the sonic characteristics of some of my old machines - like a Scully or Ampex 1-inch, 8-track. It is different every time, and I do a lot of modern recording that has nothing to do with that process, but oftentimes there's an element of that in there.
You've worked with an especially wide variety of artists. Is there a common thread that runs through your music or a philosophy that you maintain through all these different projects?
It depends upon whether I'm playing on it or producing it, in the musical sense. You'll hear go-to synths that I like, styles that I play guitar in, drum sounds that I like, or hi-hat patterns that I default to. In general, I think my production is more about my approach to the project or to the artist. Sometimes I'm co-writing, sometimes I'm in a session recording a band-type situation in a more traditional facility. Sometimes I'm doing it in my place, which is very much a functional, practical facility with no console. I could probably draw some sort of thread explaining how I wound up at all these places that would generally make sense. A couple of times it's been a cold call, or a friend who knew I could be a problem solver coming in to help a record out. An artist like Cass McCombs made the whole record Catacombs on an 8-track mixed down to a 2- track, meanwhile Usher's "Climax" is completely different. But the way I approach the artist is the same. "What can you do that no one else can do?" I have to find that unique talent and try to pull it out. And simultaneously I try to make it sound as fresh as possible, in the scope of that artist. Never defaulting to something that "is working" or "has worked." We fall flat as often as we succeed, but it's those moments where we succeed that are the moments that transcend. They are the reason we're making music.
Right. You're someone who's producing, not just "engineering." You're part of developing what the artist is going for.
Starting back when I was 15 to now, I've been in every possible part of the process. From being in a band, to engineering and producing a band, to being on the couch while the engineer is engineering and I'm strictly producing, to writing with the band, to working with hip-hop artists that I went to high school with and producing on an [Akai] MPC, to working in various DAWs and producing inside the box, to vocal producing, and to mixing. I've done all of it, and it's all about keeping perspective throughout a situation. I believe in working with a mixer who you trust and know, if for no other reason than to check what you've done. Oftentimes, with the work that I'm proudest of, the final mix doesn't sound that much different than the rough mix. But it's nice after you've slaved over something for as long as you have to get the perspective of someone who you trust. It's not just about the top mixer, it's about one you work with who understands you. Similarly with engineering, if someone can spend the day getting everything mic'd up and sounding in the ballpark of what they know you like, and you can walk in with fresh ears and fine tune it, that's the best case scenario. As someone who has done all of the above, I understand it from all angles, so I can do what I need to do. And I try to stay out of it as much as possible, honestly. Another part of my philosophy is that the goal is to not fuck it up, not do the wrong thing, and not lose the magic. That can mean surgically removing an amazing take from some GarageBand recording and inserting it into a better performance of the rest of the music that was recorded all analog in a studio.
Having the perspective to know it's more important that the take was magical than whether it was on a [Neumann] U 87 or a [Shure] SM57.
Or the built-in microphone on the laptop. Absolutely. I'm not a gear elitist.
Right. It's almost a postmodern approach. You can take everything from the past, pick and choose any parts of it, and mix them together if that's what the context calls for.
That is how I feel. The minute you become rigid about "it has to be on this mic or that mic" you've lost perspective. It has nothing to do with that. So many of the coolest records ever are a low quality sample of an older recording, and the vocals [most likely] have been recorded on a [Shure SM]57. It doesn't have to be a Telefunken [ELA M] 251 in the middle of a super nice studio to be magical. There's a long history, at this point of recording, and there's a lot of information, and it gets mixed up. I think people confuse the gear for the process; or they [think that if they] remove one part of the recipe that they're gonna have the same final prepared meal. You can't just use part of it. There was a time when the bands were able to be in the studio for months at a time and feel really comfortable. That magical thing just happened, and that's great. But the odds of that happening if you just book three days at a very nice studio and try to rush it - it's better to do it in the space that you have, in your own comfort zone, so that the rest of it isn't part of the equation or distracting. And you never know what's gonna happen, so record everything. I mean, if it's not good, erase it and try not to hoard files. But you're looking for that magic moment, so keep recording and let it happen. It's all about staying loose and adapting.
I read that working on True Romance, the Charli XCX album, was an important project for you, in terms of collaborating with a singer and finding your voice.
I grew up listening to punk bands; I skateboarded and it was part of the culture. I happened to go to a high school where there was a big hip-hop scene. I became friends with a lot of rappers, and so I found myself working on a lot of hip-hop. That was what was exciting around me. I started with a karaoke machine, and then an early version of Pro Tools, using [Akai] MPCs, as well as other drum machines and samplers, and I made hip-hop records. I did have experience working with these solo artists, but my world was being in a punk band. I was in different bands throughout my twenties; we played shows and we met other bands. I was recording my own band and that became my world. That's when I met Vampire Weekend, Grizzly Bear, and lots of different bands. Then I met Cass McCombs; I made a lot of records with him for this label, Domino. The owner of Domino [Laurence Bell] introduced me to an artist named [Devonte] Dev Hynes, who was trying to find a new sound. He'd had a thing called Lightspeed Champion, but he was developing a new idea as Blood Orange. I made those kind of records, and they were sort of classified as indie rock band records. I wasn't writing with them as much as helping get the vision across. I helped come up with a cool aesthetic and a cool sound that felt fresh and new. I also helped pick what direction they should go in, within their own material. The classic type of producing; it was very hands on. Then when Charli came around, she was really young, and there was something really special about her, but the direction hadn't really been formed yet. There were always people who wrote with singers; that's been going on since the dawn. But, in my own personal world, it was a little bit taboo. It didn't really happen that much.
To have the producer write the track in the studio with the artist?
Yeah. Or write for other people. The only thing I could imagine like that was the whole Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears world that I had nothing to do with. Of course, a good song is a good song, so even within that there are songs that I love. Kylie Minogue and Madonna, and even Britney Spears in certain moments. This was me, dipping my toes into a world that I hadn't been in before. I liked it. Charli is super-talented. I mean, how lucky am I that that's who I was working with? She's a great writer. It went smoothly; we made a lot of great music together quickly, and it opened the doors to a whole other world of music for me. As that was happening I felt like music was changing, in general. Even for the kind of music I would have worked on before, the processes started to evolve into a similar process. I always felt like an additional member of the band with whatever band I was working with, and it just started to become more and more that way.
On [the album version of] "Without You" by Tobias Jesso Jr., you have doubling on the lead vocal. But on a song like "The Wire" by Haim, you do not. And with Cass McCombs you don't. What are your thoughts when you're deciding about doubling vocals?
Really instinctive. Chances are I've heard every one of those recordings with some sort of doubling, because generally we do more than one take of vocals on separate tracks. So, at some point, I'll unmute them and listen. But it's not a go-to thing for me to double anything, to be honest. Sometimes the mixes are different than what I send in. I didn't mix the album version of "Without You," for example. The doubling I had was probably even more deliberate sounding; I think I had them panned with lead vocal, left and right. It was a really sparse song; there was very little going on, and I think I just wanted to make one of the elements in the song turn your head a little bit. The same could be said about Cass McCombs. He's so lyrical, so my whole goal with Cass, from the get-go, was to strip it back as far as possible and to be as intimate as possible. Some of his earlier recordings referenced the Cocteau Twins - a more vague, reverbed-out sound, which I love. But there was something so special about his lyrics that I thought it would be a disservice to not put that in the forefront. I wanted it to sound the way it sounds when he sat there on the couch and sang the song. Our recording process got pretty different after Catacombs. But for Catacombs and the "County Line" single, that was the concept: very simple and intimate. Cass was living in Chicago. We didn't have a budget to put people up in hotels and also rent a studio, so we just rented a house with big vaulted ceilings in Highland Park. We set up a whole analog studio, and brought in the Ampex 440 1-inch, 8- track. We weren't gonna even try to make an expansive, complex recording in a house. We were trying to make the fattest, hi-fi thing we could do in a home recording. We moved everything around until it sounded natural. We didn't wanna use headphones - we wanted everybody to play as loud as they needed to in order to actually hear each other and mix themselves. Everything was bleeding in every mic, so you have to turn right to hear the vocals or you have to play quieter. That was the way we wanted to do that record and that's why it sounds the way it sounds. There weren't a whole lot of overdubs, which probably explains why we didn't double vocals.
The entire Catacombs record was essentially cut as a live band?
Ninety percent of it. He would do it as an overdub if something wasn't hitting. We weren't totally rigid. But it was all on the 8-track. Anytime we had to bounce and it got stuck it was very scary. We weren't doing it from one machine to another where you could safely go back and do it again if you fucked it up. It was like, shoot some whiskey, hit record, and there it goes.
This is the part where all the older folks reading the magazine are like, "Yes, that's how it's done," and all the younger people are like, "What? That's crazy."
That's what we chose to have at the house, and that's all we had. I remember times when you had five tracks and only three left. We had to bounce the five down to two in order to open up enough for the harmonies and the clap track. It was pretty insane; there was a lot of kick drum and bass on the same track. I thought it might be smart to keep the same frequencies in the same areas, as well as other parts in other areas, and it worked out. I remember listening back and thinking it didn't sound like a Buddy Holly record or something, but we caught some of the same spirit as a record like that. That defines what I'm after when I'm recording. It's not about trying to be retro or derivative of anything, it's about trying to capture a spirit. Sometimes you hear that in something that sounds completely different. I think the same goes for all the records I do. I'm never trying to copy anything, or be too heavily influenced by any one thing, but I try to capture the same kind of magic as my favorite records or my favorite bands.
Do you have a go-to vocal mic?
I guess the [Neumann] U 47, or something in that zone since there are so many versions of it, is a starting point for me. I'll hear it on a U 47 and then I'll hear it on a [Shure SM]58. If the U 47 is too bright, I'll try another tube condenser. Most of the time I record with whatever I have around. I do truly believe that you shouldn't feel held up by thinking that you don't have it, because you would be surprised when you hear about some records that you would never have expected that were recorded on a [SM]58. The big thing about vocals is the way the singer reacts to the mic. I've learned to try different things to find their comfort zone. You want them to be able to perform at their best; and if that means holding the mic, then use a mic that they can hold. If it means they're having a hard time with headphones, then try to put them in front of speakers. Being a singer is pretty vulnerable, so it's up to me to help them feel comfortable. It also helps me look good by getting the best performance I can. I think the wackest way you can possibly attempt the vocals of a record is to get it a million times and try to edit it into something you want it to be. Sometimes you have to do that, but you don't always have to do that. The first step should be to try to get the best possible performance out of the singer. That means putting them in an environment where they're comfortable. That could mean anything: that could mean a ton of compression just in their headphones, it could mean a lot of EQ or reverb that helps, it could be no headphones in front of speakers where a cardioid dynamic mic works better. I guess that doesn't really answer your question.
Well it does, in that you're saying it's not about the gear. What about plug-ins?
[Universal Audio's] UAD kinda changed the game. Pretty much every plug-in they make is one I love to use all the time. I love them all - from the [Ampex] ATR- 102 plug-in to the Blue Stripe 1176 plug-in. They sound incredible. They're really fun, they have a lot of color, they have a lot of vibe; all the shit I look for in records. Another company that makes great plug-ins is Soundtoys. Super affordable, amazing plug-ins. That one that just came out, the Little AlterBoy - I love it. I love playing with formant on everything.
You're a guitar player. Do you insist upon mic'ing amps, or do you use DI and amp simulators?
Both. I love DI guitar, even without an amp simulator sometimes. But I also love mic'ing an amp. I love throwing an [AEA R]88 ribbon mic in front of a Magnatone [amp] with a Silvertone guitar. You can't really simulate that. I love Roland Jazz Chorus amps - mic'ing both speakers and getting the stereo effect. I am a real amp and mic junkie, but you can't say enough good things about Native Instruments' Guitar Rig [5 Pro] either. Oftentimes, the simulators are a different tool and a different sound. They sound modern. But if you're going for an old- school thing, you do it the old-school way.
Let's say you're doing a session and there is a sonic similarity. You're channeling some inspirations that both you and the artist are into. If you have people comparing Haim to Fleetwood Mac, what's your reaction to that? Is there a line where you start to feel like it's frustrating?
I think comparisons, as well as being influenced and sorta winking at something is fine. I think that ripping something off is not fine. There's an age-old debate of sampling, and what the value of sampling is. I guess the conclusion is don't sample, which I think is a shame because it's a pretty cool art form. If a drum break gets sampled and the singer sues and gets publishing for that song, is the drummer that came up with that drum break getting anything? Does that make any sense, whatsoever? But capturing some of the spirit of Shania Twain or Fleetwood Mac, that's awesome. That means that you are touching the crystal and it's working. You're able to express yourself through music. Those are both artists that Haim and I saw eye to eye on - we love both those artists. Do I actually think they sound anything like Shania Twain or Fleetwood Mac? No. But is there some sort of intangible spirit in the music that is reminiscent of that? Yeah, and I'll let the listeners decide. That's not to say I haven't accidentally been derivative - everyone has. It happens subconsciously sometimes, and you don't realize until it's like, "Whoops, that's what that was." You thought you wrote something, and it turns out you didn't. It happens and I think people need to be reasonable.
Do you ever think about recording or performing as the lead artist?
The answer to the last part of that is no. Really no interest whatsoever. What I love about collaborating, writing, and producing with other artists is that it's like a tennis match. The better your opponent is, the better the game is. It gets better, and better, and better, and we raise each other up. Beyond that, I really don't have any interest in being in the limelight. The only press I do is this nerdy stuff where we're talking about the actual process of recording, not the red carpet type business.
Zac Meyer is a producer/mixer in Brooklyn, NY and plays in The Dust Engineers.
zacmeyer.net
