When one thinks of the great recording engineers who have indelibly shaped the recorded history of jazz music, names like Rudy Van Gelder [Tape Op #43] or Fred Plaut might readily come to mind. But if you were to ask some of the most prominent jazz musicians of the last 25 years — artists such as John Scofield, Joshua Redman, Brad Mehldau, Dave Holland, Joe Lovano, and the late Michael Brecker — they might also mention another name: engineer/mixer James Farber. "He's, without question, one of the greatest — if not the greatest — jazz engineers of his generation," says saxophonist Redman, who came to prominence in the early ‘90s. "A master of his craft. His discography speaks for itself." "Quite simply, James is as good as it gets," says guitarist John Scofield. Farber's engineering and mixing credits include over one thousand albums — five Grammy-winners in the Best Jazz Instrumental Album and Best Large Jazz Ensemble Album categories among them — and over a dozen records each with all of the above-mentioned artists. After getting his start as an assistant at NYC's famed Power Station (now Avatar Studios) in the late ‘70s, learning from engineering greats such as Bob Clearmountain [Tape Op #84] and Tony Bongiovi, as well as working on everything from Bruce Springsteen to Haitian "compas" records, he went on to join legendary producer Nile Rodgers as an engineer for several years. "Working with Nile really taught me how to think like a producer," recalls Farber. "I carry that over to everything I've done since." In 1988 Farber was asked to engineer James Taylor's Never Die Young, and left Rodgers to embark on a freelance career. He quickly gravitated toward jazz; an early interest as both listener and player. With several standout records for saxophonist Michael Brecker, word of Farber's talents spread, and he quickly established himself as one of the preeminent recording engineers for jazz and acoustic music in New York City. He remains a consistent choice today for some of jazz's brightest talents. I caught up with James at Avatar Studios, where he'd just spent a week engineering new projects for ECM Records (including Jack Dejohnette/Ravi Coltrane/Matt Garrison Trio, Meredith Monk, and Vijay Iyer/Wadada Leo Smith Duo). I had a chance to learn more about his musical and engineering background, his working methods in the studio (including live concert recording dates at clubs such as The Village Vanguard), and his experiences working with some of the biggest names in modern jazz.
For someone who has worked on as many records as you have, I was surprised to find that there weren't any previous interviews with you.
Yeah, I've managed to stay under the radar. I don't have a website, you can't find my email online. I have no manager, and I'm not a member of organizations or social media. So I'm a little bit hard to find. People usually just get my email from someone else that's worked with me. It's all word-of-mouth.
How do you deal with the ups and downs of the freelance lifestyle?
Sometimes it's all or none. You just take it when you can get it. Sometimes it'll be two weeks in a row without a day off. Sometimes it's a month with nothing going on. But I enjoy my time off. I'm not a workaholic; I don't go insane when I'm not working. And when I have to work hard for a long stretch I can still do it. Now that I'm in my early sixties, it's not as easy as it was to do all those long days in a row as when I was 25 — but not impossible.
What got you interested in recording?
My father worked for RCA designing tubes. So we had all kinds of gear in the house, including a good stereo and an old tape recorder. I was fascinated by those. I remember my fifth birthday party, all the kids would come over and we'd record ourselves into the tape recorder. It's a toy I've played with since... forever. I always had an interest in it. I remember watching TV and there'd be a scene from a recording session. I'd think, "I want to do that." In high school I had a rock band and I was the guy with the tape recorder. The recordings always sounded pretty good. At least I had good levels and had an interest in doing it right. Then the same thing in college: I got into playing jazz piano in some groups. We gigged in bars a couple of nights a week and played what I called "dollar jazz," because that's what it cost people to hear us. We were playing a lot of blues and CTI [Creed Taylor Incorporated] tunes, some modal stuff. I wasn't really that versatile with the changes, but we played a bunch of standards too. But I always had the tape recorder and would record our gigs.
What were you using at that time?
As a kid I had a Sony tape recorder and just the two mics that came with it. And then I had a Teac Tascam 1/4-inch, 2-track and later a 4-track. We didn't have mics, so I'd borrow a couple of [Shure] SM57s from somebody. Nothing fancy. I ended up going to UW Madison to study communications. I figured at least it was something involved with media. I took radio production and electronic music composition. I was always splicing tape and using tape recorders and I got good at it. But nobody could tell me how to do this professionally. You know, "You gotta know somebody."
There wasn't as much information available back then.
No. The schools were just cropping up. When I graduated college in ‘75 I hung out in Madison for a while and worked in listener-sponsored radio. Eventually I moved back to New York and enrolled at Institute of Audio Research, which was just starting up. That's kind of how I learned a little of the technical end... at least enough to talk my way into an assistant's gig.
You ended up here [Power Station/ Avatar] assisting, right?
I had one other job before this. My teacher, Jim Jordan, at IAR worked at Big Apple Studios in SoHo. He got me hired as a part-time assistant. I was making $3 an hour, still living at my parents' place in New Jersey. I would drive into the city and between gas, tolls, and parking I definitely lost money. I have a photocopy of the first check I got for a nine-hour session for $27. It was pretty exciting. I had a great intro to the business. My first week in the studio I was the assistant on Philip Glass's Einstein on the Beach mix. They were also doing a lot of punk sessions there. I learned from these guys how to set up mics. It's the kind of gig you learn by doing and watching. Then I got introduced to this place through a good buddy of mine from UW Madison who was friends with Iven Walters, the son of Bob Walters, who started this place with Tony Bongiovi. Those guys came from Media Sound and opened Power Station in ‘77. I saw this place and I said, "Wow, this is the real deal." Neve console, big room. It was unbelievable. So I would come here and hang out with Iven as much as I could. Eventually an opening developed because they built Studio B and needed another full-time assistant.
How long did you assist at Power Station?
I was an assistant for only about a year. I barely knew what I was doing, but I had a good sense of balance in music and learned really fast. I had such good training from the engineers here: Tony Bongiovi, Bob Clearmountain, Neil Dorfsman, and Scott Litt [Tape Op #81]. I worked on a couple of big records: Bruce Springsteen's The River, Graham Parker's The Up Escalator, and Blondie's Eat to the Beat. I got promoted to staff engineer when Studio C opened, so I only had to assist for a year. These days, you better plan on five years before you get anywhere in a studio, although many people don't even go that route anymore. They just work for themselves and figure it out. Then around 1984 — I had been on staff here for 6 years — I got a call from the studio manager. She said, "Mick Jagger is making a solo record with Nile Rogers, but the staff engineer and Mick aren't seeing eye-to-eye. He requested a replacement and you're the only one available. So you're starting on Mick Jagger's record tomorrow." That's the way things used to work. Nile and I ended up having this great rapport, and I continued working with him for the next three years. That was sort of like going to graduate school. Tons of overdubs and punching; I got to be very precise with that. We made 12 or 15 records together, mostly R&B and pop, including Thompson Twins' Here's To Future Days, Grace Jones' Inside Story, and Nile's second record B-Movie Matinee.
You also engineered a lot of Haitian music in the early ‘80s, right?
Yeah, there were a ton of these Haitian "compas" records being recorded at Power Station. I started assisting a producer named Fred Paul on some of those and we got along great. Nobody else was into it here. It was a little bit like a chore. "Oh, we have to do those sessions." But I really liked the music and those guys, and Fred started requesting me as the engineer. Bands would come from Miami, Montreal, Boston, and Brooklyn — wherever there were big Haitian communities. We'd do an album a week. Maybe a couple hundred in two years.
What did that involve, as far as instrumentation and setup?
Everybody played live. It was two electric guitars, Rhodes and/or piano, drums, two percussionists, horn section, background vocals, and lead vocal. It was amazing training. They were always night sessions: it would start at 7 or 8 p.m. and go until around 4 in the morning. Everybody was speaking in Creole. A lot of people hanging out; like a party scene. We'd do everything live, but then we'd overdub and replace better performances of certain things. The formula was: Monday for basics, Tuesday replace the horns, Wednesday replace the background vocals, Thursday the lead vocals, and Friday we'd mix. We'd rehearse the mix old school; a couple people had their hands on the faders. I wrote down numbers where things happened and tried to memorize everything. It was all tape, so we'd leave the 2-track running and if we made a mistake we would just rewind the multitrack, let the 2-track run, and then edit the 2-track together when we were done. I listen back to those records and feel like I couldn't improve upon them now — in fact, I'd probably make them worse. They were done so instinctively, yet they really defined a sound of a genre of music. The producer, Fred, took me down to Haiti in 1982. He said, "I'm taking the band down and we're gonna play a week of gigs. Why don't you come down and do live sound? You don't have to do much: set it and forget it, go to the bar. But you'll get to see Haiti." It's good that I went with supervision because it's a wild place! But the radio was on down there, and 75% of the albums on the radio in Haiti I had recorded here.
Were you also working on jazz records at that point, or did that come later?
Some. I'd be setting up for disco horn sessions, and who's in the horn section? Michael Brecker, Jon Faddis, and Randy Brecker. It was all New York jazz players. Mike Mainieri, the vibes player, was producing records here and I was assisting on some of those. So I met all these guys and talked to them about music all the time. It's great when musicians start talking about classic jazz recordings and you can join in on the conversation. I knew the history of the music and all the classic records. Sharing that history really helps. I can't play on their level, but just having some understanding of what it takes goes a long way. So in the early ‘80s, when it came time for [the group] Steps Ahead to make a studio recording here, they came up to me and said, "Listen, we know that you're the guy on the staff who really loves jazz, and we want to give you a shot at recording this record." That kind of put me on the map for jazz.
I found a radio interview you did with pianist Bill Evans when you were just out of college. It was obvious that you were a big jazz fan, even then.
Oh, totally. Jazz is what I listened to at home — that's what I played and what I loved. Engineering-wise, I'm a huge fan of the early stereo records: late ‘50s, early ‘60s. I love the sound of early stereo Rudy Van Gelder recordings, with the drums in mono on the right speaker. There were no pan pots — just left, center, right. I also love Fred Plaut's Columbia 30th Street recordings, where you really sense each of the band members positioned on a stage.
Do you still draw on those in your engineering approach?
Well, I'm always working for someone, so I want the record to reflect what they're into. A lot of piano players hate that mono Rudy piano sound; they want a big, expensive stereo piano sound. Also, if the music is complex, and we need isolation for editing, that hard-panned mono approach doesn't work because you don't have leakage. The leakage is what defines the room and allows the hard-panned instruments to sound less detached from each other. So, in that case, I'll usually have stereo piano and stereo drums overlapping. That tends to be a bigger, more homogenous sound. But if everyone's in the same room, I'll set the musicians up to reflect the imaging I want in the final mix. If it's a good-sounding room, I'll also have a stereo pickup that I can add to the close mics. Maybe a Decca Tree with three omnidirectional mics; maybe an X/Y pair, or maybe an ORTF [Office de Radiodiffusion Télévision Française] pair facing the wall. I usually don't have a lot of inputs left to do anything too elaborate. And depending on how much individual fixing you need to do, you might be limited as to how much you can use the room mics. When I do recordings at clubs like The Village Vanguard, I'll always have a stereo mic right in front of the stage — hanging down overhead, capturing the natural image and balance. It might be an X/Y, or it might be an M/S [mid/side]. And I'll always have a stereo pair of omni mics back in the room, just capturing the air of the room and the audience. The combination of those two things will add a lot of the depth in the recording.
How do you deal with setup and monitoring in a small club like the Vanguard?
Normally that is preamp, to converter, to Pro Tools, no processing. Monitoring is done on earphones. It requires a lot of pre-planning because you've got to plan the load-in, the running of the cables, and the backend setup. Then there's setting up the stage, which is tricky because it's a concert for the people in the club. You can't destroy that just for the sake of the recording. You know, you can't start putting up baffles or something like that — I'd never do it. So you've really got to figure out how to make what they're presenting to the audience work for your recording. Then you get a short sound check and you're rolling.
How long do you allot for setup on a studio recording date?
If we're not doing takes within an hour of the musicians arriving at the studio, something's wrong. That includes a big band, anything. I go fast, but that comes with experience and working with excellent players. It's never a few hours of experimentation. The guys come in and they want to play. I'll usually come an hour before a small group session. I'll go right into the control room and I'll do my setup in there. As the musicians are arriving, I'll start mic'ing them and fine-tuning where things are placed. I do a lot of pre-planning. I'll send in a very detailed setup to the studio. A studio diagram, complete mic input list, what preamps I'm using, comments about inserts if I'm using a compressor, all the patches, where the reverb is going to return and send from. If there are two [Neumann] U 47s and I need one of them, I'll specify "#1," "the shiny one," or "the matte one." If I'm recording here at Avatar, and I want to use RCA 77s on a big band trumpet section, I'll say, "I want #6 on Trumpet 4, and #1, 4, and 5 on the other three trumpets." I just know which mics have certain characteristics and which ones are going to work. All that goes into the setup notes. When I show up, the assistant is really prepared. If the piano isn't where I drew it, I'll take him or her aside and say, "Listen, this drawing is designed for a very specific sightline to that booth over there. You really have to pay attention to this next time because it's not an arbitrary drawing." I leave nothing to chance. I ask so many questions before a session, to the point where sometimes I'm annoying people. I really try to get all my questions answered. "How many toms in the kit? How many snares? How many amps does the guitar player have? Acoustic guitar, as well as electric?" The worst thing to me is coming in, with everything perfectly planned, and all of a sudden the drummer is adding a tom and I have it to put the channel all the way down at the end of the console, and it's not near the rest of the drum mics. That drives me nuts. [laughs] If I don't know all the players, I'll also have all the musicians' names on the input list. That way, if the assistant or I have to talk to them, we can address people by name. The better relationship you can have with the players, the more comfortable you can make them feel, the better they're going to play, and the better what I do is going to sound.
Do you find yourself sometimes taking on more of a producer-like role?
The lines all get blurred when it's just the artist and the engineer. Often I'm the only one in the control room, and the artist is the producer. In those situations, I might have to help with producer-type things. I would never make suggestions to anybody about what to play or anything, but if I like a take, I will say so. But I will only do so with people who I've been working with a long time, who trust me enough to know that if I say that, that it's something that they would want to hear from me. If I'm working with someone for the first time, I probably want to build up a certain amount of trust before I start interjecting on that kind of thing. Working groups, like Brad [Mehldau]'s trio, have often been playing their music in concert, and they come into the studio prepared. They know each other so well that takes happen very quickly. Brad will rarely do more than two takes of a song. We'll record 15 to 20 songs in a day sometimes.
Do you also encounter the other end of the spectrum more these days, such as take-splicing, mistake-fixing, and so on?
Yeah, people are a little less likely to accept a rough edge. In the old days, there were always rough edges. Sometimes a little valley in the performance will help to give the peak its impact. But some people like to do a lot of takes because they'll develop something over the course of playing it. When you have a lot of musicians playing a song together, maybe there's a horn player who, the more he played it, really got to some places he wanted to get. But maybe by that eighth take, the rhythm section sounds a little tired. To find that place where it's the right take for everybody — giving some preference to the leader whose record it is — that's a magical choice.
Joshua Redman
I really can't imagine my life as a recording artist without James Farber. He's been there from the beginning. The first record date I did after moving to New York was with a bass player named Mario Pavone, Toulon Days — and James engineered that record. Of course, I had known of James' work well before then. I remember, in particular, Michael Brecker's first solo record called Michael Brecker. It came out in ‘85 or ‘86, I was still in high school. I loved Brecker and was so excited to hear the record, and I was blown away by the sound of it. I thought, "Who recorded this?" And then I started seeing his name pop up on all kinds of records around that time. James did my first record as a leader, and he's done the vast majority of my studio records to date. He has been so much more than an engineer. He has great sonic ears, obviously — that's why he gets such a great sound — but he also has great musical ears. He's a musician. He really hears and feels music. I have leaned on him heavily in the studio, not just for advice about how to make things sound good, but also for creative input. I've actually credited him as associate producer because, for a lot of the things that I've done, he's really had an important production role. He's been a sounding board, someone to bounce ideas off of. He's helped me make important musical decisions.
You have to take the studio for what it is and try to use that environment to craft (hopefully) as creative and honest a studio record as you can. People say, "Oh, we're going to go into the studio and it should feel just like we're playing live." But you don't play live into an empty room with a bunch of mics and high-fidelity equipment. There's an attention to detail — a subtlety, a focus — that you get in the studio. That's very important, and you have to understand that. But it's still jazz, it's improvised music. You have to preserve the spontaneity and in-the-moment feeling; the organic quality of the music that's the heart and soul of jazz. And I think James has a really great intuitive sense of how to strike that balance. He has a great instinct for when things are starting to get too controlled or too sterile — when you're starting to lose the rawness and the magic. He knows how much to use the studio and how far to push it, but he also knows when to stop.
How do you deal with the variety of monitoring setups you encounter as a freelance engineer? Do you ever bring your own speakers?
I don't own any gear, which is unusual. I'm lucky enough to work at places that have enough gear to make a record. No matter where I go, I'll figure out a way to make a record with what they have. The speakers, however, are the one thing that I prefer to keep somewhat constant. I'll try and persuade people that, to get what they expect of me, they're better off in a place that I know well. If I'm working at Studio A or C at Avatar, I'll use ProAcs, and I know which amp in the control room that I'll hook them up to. I know that I can work that way and take something to mastering that I can cut flat. At Sear Sound they have Genelecs, and I have certain settings on the back that work. I have a different setting for Studio A and Studio C, and I know that with those settings I can trust what I'm hearing. If I go somewhere that doesn't have monitors I know, then I'll have the client rent a pair of ProAcs and do my best to figure out the room. I'll go in a little early and listen to albums I've recorded for 15 or 20 minutes. I'll say, "Okay, this control room is a little boomy, so I better have the bass sounding big, otherwise it's going to be thin at home." Or, "This control room sounds bright, so I better make sure I really have those cymbals featured in the mix and not too much low resonance, otherwise I'm going to have a dark record when I get home." You try to learn the control room in 15 minutes and take your best guess. I might depend on the mastering engineer a little bit, in those cases.
When you're getting sounds, is it mostly "right mic, right place," or is there EQ involved?
I approach most records thinking that I'm not going to need any EQ, except maybe a low filter on the hi-hat. A lot of records I do actually end up with no EQ for recording, mix, or mastering. I was trained by rock engineers, so I would use EQ a lot more when I started out. As I started working with better musicians, I learned that that wasn't as necessary. If the music is well-arranged and well- performed, things like treble and bass naturally work themselves out. The cymbals are going to provide the treble, the bass is going to provide the bottom, and the piano and horns fill in the midrange. There's going to be this natural spread of the spectrum. It's going to be rich, and everything's going to relate musically. Of course, I'm not talking about doing a pop record where there are 20 guitars you've got to carve out space for. In that case, you're going to need a lot of EQ. But acoustic music, which is designed to fit together live, should also fit together in the studio. What I do is to choose mics that are flattering to the instruments. Panning is very important to me — having a space for everything. Most often, I'll change a mic or the panning before I'll turn to EQ. But if something isn't right, I'm not afraid to turn a knob all the way. Sometimes there'll be a lot of humidity; the bass is just sounding really boomy. You might have to roll off some bottom. Or a drummer might have really dark cymbals and his drums are a lot louder than the cymbals, so I might need to add some treble to the overheads. I'll do it to compensate for things, just to get the music to speak better — but I don't go in thinking I'm going to "improve" somebody's sound. When I get someone else's recording to mix, I'm a little less attached to it. I'm not shy about changing it, so I'm a lot more apt to turn some dials.
John Scofield
I met James first when he was an assistant at Avatar, and then I remember he recorded a Bennie Wallace record that I was on. I remember getting Michael Brecker's first solo record and being amazed by the sound. That was James' work.
There are very few engineers who know how to record jazz. It's quite a different thing than normal pop music. As well as being a fantastic engineer, James is a piano player and knowledgeable jazz aficionado. He's really done his homework, studying the great jazz recordings that came out in the ‘50s and ‘60s during the golden era of acoustic jazz. I think one of the most important things about James' style is that he really makes it comfortable for the musicians. That is the most important thing at a session, even more important than the sound. He understands that spontaneity and inspiration are central to the music, and he encourages that to happen at the date.
James has been innovative in setting up the band so that it's not as isolated as some other engineers like it to be. This often allows the musicians to hear each other in a more natural way, not completely dependent on headphones. He's found out that some bleed actually helps the music sound better in the recording. Also, his style of panning and stereo placement is quite innovative. When I listen back to of all the recordings we've made, most of them at Avatar or Sear Sound, I feel so lucky that I had James on those dates. His contribution is paramount.
So does mixing your own recordings usually amount to level riding?
Well, I'm always doing that, even during the recording. I'll always try to make a rough mix that's 90% finished and — in an emergency, if everything else got destroyed — releasable. Those roughs are a guide in the final mix. Sometimes it's a just matter of fine-tuning that final 10%. During recording, we rarely listen back to everything. The artist needs to take home reference mixes to listen through all the takes later. Maybe they'll find an intro that can be cut into the master take, or maybe they end up changing their mind about a take they liked in the moment. I'm always mixing as I'm recording to ensure a good rough mix. Not only can the artist go home and enjoy the mixes they're using to evaluate takes, but there are instances where that rough mix will make it to the final record. Sometimes we'll just run out of time in a mix session. Or maybe after the mix the artist went back and listened to an alternate take and said, "I should have mixed that one instead. Ah, well, the rough's almost as good; I'll just use that!" [laughs] And that happens more than occasionally.
You've also become known for engineering records live-to-2-track. In an improvisational context, where you might not know what the next dynamic turn will be, how do you anticipate fader rides and keep things sounding balanced?
I'm always reacting and searching for that magic balance. I'm just trying to get it to a place where if I do no riding or automation it would sound good. I probably use more riding on the live-to-2 mixes than I would on an actual mix session because I'm actively searching for that place where everything sits right. On a dedicated mix day, I'll get to play with that balance for a while and try to get it nailed down before I turn on any automation. Then from there, I'll turn on the automation and do the fine-tuning on any sections where it needs changes. But in a live-to- 2-track situation, right before we start to record a tune, I'll ask the musicians, "What's going to happen during this tune?" I'll have a little notepad: "Intro, Melody, Horn Solo, Piano Solo, Bass Solo, Trading, then Vamp Out." I'll know what to expect; and I'll be looking ahead and prepared for the next thing. Often we'll also record a multitrack backup. I'll record the flying faders automation while I'm doing the live mix, so if I really botched something — like I put up a horn fader in anticipation of a solo and the guy leaned in on the mic and hit the loudest note of his life — I might just go back later and punch some new automation into the live mix. That's a last resort.
Do you ever use compressors or limiters to help with dynamics?
I tend to use compression on vocals and electric instruments, like electric bass or electric guitar. Rarely on acoustic instruments though, unless I have a trombone or a trumpet that's really peaky and I'm going to get too many overs if I have the average level where I want it. I might also use some parallel compression on drums. Drum dynamics can be a little wider than the band's dynamics, so I'll blend some compressed signal underneath. It's not like a squashed thing that you'd have on a pop record. Basically what that lets me do is to contain sections where the drummer starts bashing and the toms are really getting rumbly. Then on really soft sections like an intro or brushes, it'll make things a little more present and fat. But on the 2-mix, there's always a compressor on a pre- fade insert. It'll be in there from the tracking all the way through to final mix. It's part of the sound I like. It glues everything together and keeps things from sticking out too much. So instead of the individual compression, I'll have that control for the occasional things that might take you out of the performance by coming too far forward. Sometimes it'll control some low-end that's out of hand. But I use a very gentle setting: the slowest attack and the fastest release. It really lets the music breathe, but it gets your record louder, and it makes it more even- sounding. I also like to mix down to tape, which gives you maybe 3 dB of natural limiting.
Brad Mehldau
James was the choice of lots of folks when I started recording my own records, around 1995, so first he was chosen for me. Then, quickly after that, I always chose him, with only a few exceptions for my trio recordings and other projects. James has his own aesthetic, which is very distinct — it's naturalistic, but it uses all of the resources of the studio. His knowledge and experience are unparalleled.
I've been with a number of recording engineers who do not know what to do when the musician makes a request to change something — they are then out of their comfort zone. For me, James' ability to be flexible, and go out on the limb with the artist when need be, is a sign of his mastery. He has the breadth of knowledge to not lose sight of the big picture, so when something deviates from the norm, he still preserves the important elements — clarity, good tones, and balance. When he goes to mix, he understands what's happening — he understands that often, for example, great dynamic contrasts are intentional, and that he shouldn't ride something too much to try to artificially compensate for something that isn't there. Or, on the contrary, he knows when he should finesse something and bring it to the forefront a bit more.
James knows that I'm not crazy about what folks call the "Rudy Van Gelder" sound for piano. I really dig it on lots of records, but it is for a certain context — the piano is part of a rhythm section and playing behind horns. So it's boxier and smaller than I want. James has found a sound for me when I record with my trio that captures more room sound. For me, it feels bigger. Yet it is still distinct and we don't miss details in any of the three instruments — nothing covers anything else. Also, I would say that I favor a darker sound than is perhaps associated with jazz recordings, and James always finds that.
How much does preamp choice matter to you?
A good preamp is important. I'll always try to keep the same model of preamp across a drum kit or horn section. I don't want to vary within one type of instrument. If I'm working on an old Neve, like the 8038 in Sear or the 8068 in Avatar Studio A, I rarely use an outboard preamp. I could use that vintage of Neve preamps on everything ever and be really happy. If I'm working on a modern board, like the Neve VR up in Studio C here at Avatar, I'll use all outboard preamps: old Neves, Focusrites, and GML [George Massenburg Labs]. I don't have any experience with the whole specialized ribbon mic preamp. That's probably something I need to experiment with more.
Let's talk about your mic'ing approach for individual instruments. When you have the piano isolated, what's a typical starting placement?
I'll usually have two stereo pairs, one inside and one outside, and maybe even something further in the room. Maybe X/Y [AKG] C24 mics inside, an [AEA] R88 or another Blumlein ribbon pair just outside the piano, maybe a couple of omni mics behind that, and maybe spacing the omnis in such a way that they would relate to a Decca Tree formation with the Blumlein as the front mic instead of an omni. I'll then vary them to different degrees in the mix depending on how much presence I need, how much air I need, or what's going on with the rest of the band. If it's a solo track, I might balance them differently from the group material. The C24's placement is one of those things that I end up running back and forth to the control room 10 or 15 times. How far in, how high up, the angle of it: every 1/16 of an inch makes a complete difference on that piano image. That's one of those things that you can't always just guess at or know from experience. Even the same piano might even behave differently, depending on the player or the tuner. I'm always looking for an even image, from top to bottom. If the pianist plays a chromatic scale up and down the piano, I don't want any note to sound like it's out of order. A lot of times, with extreme cardioid placements, that can happen — with notes sounding like they're jumping around or a like there's a hole in the middle.
You've become renowned among jazz drummers for your rich and detailed drum recordings. Do you prefer a spaced pair over the kit as your main pickup?
I like spaced tube cardioids, such as [Neumann] KM 54s, for overheads — which I refer to as cymbal mics. But I add a center overhead, perhaps a Neumann 582 or a tube U 47 mic in omni, in the same horizontal plane. This enables a hard left-right spread of the cymbals, with the addition of the center mic making them not seem so separate. The omni mic adds sustain to the cymbals and gives a nice general pickup of the entire kit. I start getting sound with these three mics, and then mix all the other mics into them as I go. But sometimes a musician comes to me and says, "I like the sound of this microphone on my instrument." For example, [drummer] Jeff Ballard requests Coles [4038s] for the overheads. The Coles are not something I generally like for overheads — they're a little dark. I'll say, "Okay, let me try what I usually do, and then if you don't like it we'll put that up." With Jeff, there's something about the way his kit is set up — the sounds of his cymbals and toms — once I put them up I saw what he meant. So when I record him I use Coles, but I don't use them for anybody else. That has something to do with the particular sound of his set.
What about horns?
For reeds it could be a [Telefunken ELA M] 251, a U 47, a [Neumann] U 67, or a [Neumann] M 49. Sometimes I'll use a combination of a tube mic and a ribbon on a saxophone. I've developed different things with different horn players, but my basic sound on a reed will be the best tube mic I can find for that reed in that studio. For brass it's almost always ribbons. It might be an old RCA 77 or 44, a Coles, a Royer, or it might be an AEA mic.
How do you approach upright bass?
I usually use two mics — a high and a low. Rarely a direct, unless the player requests it. More often than not it's a tube mic at bridge level and a ribbon higher up in the same plane. The tube is maybe a foot from the wood of the bass, maybe about 8 inches from the bridge. If they're in a booth, and their instrument is loud and I'm hearing the booth a lot, I might have to go closer. If they're in a really nice sounding room, I might be able to go a little further away. Once I get something that sounds pretty good, I'll mark the position of the peg on the floor and then I'll say, "Okay, move an inch closer. Move an inch back." We'll try and find something where there's just the right amount of resonance and presence, and the right amount of room blend.
What's your go-to reverb for the more straight-ahead jazz dates?
I'm a big fan of EMT plates. When I'm doing something that's live, organic, and just needs to sound natural, the EMT gives me a subtle sense of space to counteract the close mics. It's something about the natural decay. I try not to make it that noticeable, but if you got rid of it you'd think, "That's too dry." There are other times where I'll use a lot of Lexicon reverb, like on the ECM records where a different kind of space needs to be in place; something a little more lush or sustained. That's got its place too. Again, every artist has a different conception. If I'm working with certain European artists, they sometimes like a more noticeable reverb and sustain.
How long do you normally allot for mixing, say, a small group jazz record?
It's budget-related. Sometimes someone will call me to mix their album — ten tunes they recorded at a studio in Brooklyn, and they only have enough of a budget for one day of mixing. So that's a little over an hour a tune. I can do that. Some people say, "That's too risky for me. I really want to spend a lot of time on the little details." They can say, "I can't afford your rate, plus the studio's rate. I'm gonna go to a guy and spend five days in his house doing this. Then I'll get all the details I want." But I think, sometimes, if the big picture sounds good, and inviting, and has a nice soundscape, and a couple little details aren't 100 percent, that's a better experience for the listener. That's not cool with everybody. But I can mix something really fast, if I need to. Normally, if I record a small group jazz record, I mix it in two days. If it's a trio or duo, maybe one day. A big band, usually a minimum of three days. Although sometimes you need ten — but you never get ten, except on a rare occasions. Almost every time I work someone's locking out a studio, which usually means 12 hours. Sometimes if we're going somewhere where we have to mix a record in a day and that's the only time available, I might be there for 18 hours. Once I'm there, I'm fine until we're done. I'll crash later. Once I'm working and focused, I can kind of go forever.
Joe Lovano
James has done almost all my dates as a leader. Each of my sessions have been so different, from a standard piano/bass/drums/saxophone quartet, to larger ensembles, to the Gunther Schuller-arranged project, Rush Hour, with string orchestra, a huge woodwind ensemble, and percussion. On each of them James really captured a live concert in the studio. Everyone set up like a band, blending and playing in the dynamics of the music, often without headphones.
He captures the players' energy. You can record a piano all day long, but to record the piano player, that's another thing. The same thing with drums. It's easy to get a drum sound. But you get Elvin Jones on the date, you don't capture drums, you capture Elvin. Every drummer that's on every one of my sessions with James, you really hear their personality come through, and that's really special. Of course, each of those players have a distinct approach. But it's up to the engineer to let that happen and not make the snare drum sound the way he wants it sound; like every other snare drum.
By the time we recorded 52nd Street Themes [2000 Grammy winner, Best Large Jazz Ensemble Performance], which was done live to 2-track, we had already worked together quite a lot over the last ten years. A lot of trust was involved. We really played the music, and I completely trusted James to follow us. We didn't just play a chart; I was conducting as we were playing, pointing at people, and there's a lot of free playing in between sections. James was in there listening, watching, and following us, like a member of the band.
How important is mastering to your process?
That's really part of the process for me. I have my favorite mastering engineers, and I attend mastering sessions 99% of the time. I won't use tape until I know who's going to master it, because it can really be botched. It's got to be someone who really can deal with it, like Greg Calbi [Tape Op #86] or Mark Wilder. With tape, we get to convert to digital at mastering with the highest quality A/Ds, which are better than the ones that are available in the studio. We really get to choose the wires, the circuitry, the playback chain, and set the playback level of the bass tone so it's tweaked just right, as well as really maximize that 2-track playback. And then you've got a high-resolution mix that you've got to get down to 16 bit/44.1 kHz. "What piece of gear do you use for that? And what dither circuit sounds good?" So, every step of the way there are these subtle choices that define the sound. There are so many layers of this that I've just developed preferences over time. At one point I did a lot of comparison and then eventually settled on things that I know will work. I know if I'm mastering at X place, I know what their best choices are — just like I know the best mics at a certain studio.
Do you have a reference system at home to check your work?
I listen to all my work at home. Rough mixes, mixes, and mastering — I'll check everything out after I'm done with each phase and decide what needs to be tweaked going forward. I've had the same stereo for a long time. It's not that fancy, but it's a really good sounding stereo. The whole system — preamp, amplifier, CD player, speakers and wires — probably cost me $5000, which is not a lot of money. I have an Adcom preamp, amp, and CD player, and my speakers are Cantons. Everything's matched. Once my old Adcom CD player died I replaced it with another brand. I hooked it up at home and everything had changed. So I brought it back and had to buy a new CD player that cost over $1000, because that was the only one that that company made that would sound like what I had. This was already in the days of MP3s, so all my friends laughed at me. "You're spending that much money to buy something that only plays CDs?" And I said, "Yes, but if this reference goes away, I'm screwed." I have a good pair of Grado headphones if I want to hear something late at night. I never listen on earbuds or to MP3s. I don't really know what that's like at all. My feeling is: make the best sounding record for the people who can listen in the best environments; and if you do that, it should sound pretty good everywhere.
What are some projects that you're particularly proud of?
There have been a handful of artists that I've been continually working with over and over through the years. Some artists who I've made multiple records for — over a dozen in almost each case — are Michael Brecker, John Scofield, Joshua Redman, Joe Lovano, Brad Mehldau, and Dave Holland. Chris Potter is coming up into that area, although I haven't quite made that many with Chris yet. All the collaborations with them really stand out. Producer-wise, for the past 30 years I've been working with Manfred [Eicher] from ECM and Matt Pierson, who ran Warner Jazz. Those recurring relationships build really strong projects.
What makes those records so special?
Great music, first of all. Sound-wise, there are a lot of little variables coming together to make the whole. You could have the same band, and all the same mics in the same room, and try to re-create that recording two months later, and it's going to sound different. Different atmospheric conditions, humidity, different reeds, different strings on a bass, and different heads on the drums. There are going to be so many variables that you'll never get the same record twice. So when someone comes in and plays me a record I've done and says, "I want my record to sound like that," I say, "I'll try, but it's probably impossible. It's going to sound like you guys here, today." It's really impossible to copy something somebody else does. I've had engineers who have seen me work who'll say, "I tried the mic you used, I put it in the same place, I used the same EMT plate for reverb, and it sounded completely different." Of course, it's the player, and then it's the subtle ways that things are combined. Maybe it's the amount of bus compression, or just the right amount of the reverb return in the mix. Things like that are so subtle but can add up to something much bigger. So you can't really copy somebody. There's no sense in anybody hiding what they do, because nobody can replicate it. It's impossible.
You've done over a thousand records, at this point. What inspires you in your work these days?
Well, the music. That's why we all get into this. I feel like I'm a very lucky guy to have the gig that I have. I've gotten to work with the best, and get to know them. Technique-wise, I don't make that much progress, but I'm always learning something new. One day something hits me and I realize I should have always been doing it that way. That still happens, where I'll figure out a better way to do something that I thought I always knew how to do. And, of course, the people in the jazz business are the greatest. Aside from being super-talented, they're interesting and smart — great people to have a lunch break with. Conversations go everywhere. It's still a lot of fun. Sometimes I think back on it, and I wish that I had brought a camera around with me and documented all this stuff. I wasn't thinking along those lines while I was going through it all, but now, reflecting on it, I'm pretty grateful for the experience.
Joseph Branciforte is a producer, composer/musician, and recording/mixing/location recording engineer based out of New York City. www.josephbranciforte.com
