Gus Seyffert may not be a household name, but his behind the scenes involvement would make you scratch your head and wonder why. From playing live and/or in session with The Black Keys, Norah Jones, Roger Waters, and Sia – to producing and engineering artists like Beck and Michael Kiwanuka, Gus has contributed significantly to the sound and spirit of many great records. As we sat down in his Echo Park studio in Los Angeles and chatted, it was crystal clear that he didn't arrive where he is by sitting around waiting for something to happen.
Can you tell me a little bit about your early interest in music?
I grew up in Kansas City, Missouri. The government was doing an experiment on our school system to try to integrate the schools, and they had a magnet school program. In middle school I went to a performing arts magnet called Kansas City Middle School of the Performing Arts, KCMSA. I'm dyslexic, and I always struggled in school. I did just about everything I could to get out of doing anything academic. I took classical guitar, was in an orchestra playing upright bass, played in the jazz band, and took recording studio class – all at a pretty young age. KCMSA had a Tascam 388, so that was what I learned on. It was there I met my still best friend, Jake Blanton, who's a great musician.
What music were you listening to?
Jake and I were both obsessed with The Beatles. This is before they released all the CDs in the '90s, so nobody in our class really knew who The Beatles were. Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer were popular. I guess I didn't totally realize that there were different generations of music. I'd go to school and they'd be like, "Check out Vanilla Ice!" And I'd say, "Check out The Beatles!" They'd say, "What are you talking about?"
Where were you getting information on The Beatles?
Those were the records that my parents had in the basement. Oldies 95 FM [KCMO] was my station. From a young age it was Motown, The Beatles, '70s rock, and music like that.
What do you think was the attraction for you?
You know, it's hard to say. Now I think, from the perspective of where I'm sitting now, I could rattle off, "Oh, it was a live band, or it's tape, or the recording process was different." It was just a connection to the music. It sounded good, and made me feel good.
At what point did you start dissecting it from a production and recording angle?
I think it was when Jake and I discovered the early Paul McCartney records and realized that he did everything himself. When we got access to the 388 it was mind-blowing. Jake was really good at playing all the instruments. I always tried to do that, but couldn't do it as well. The school would let us take the machine home over the summer, and that's when we started writing and recording our own music.
Did you have anyone to show you the recording ropes?
We were really lost. Kansas City, at the time, was not a very hip town. We had something like a [DigiTech GSP21] Legend effects processor, and were like, "What is this thing, and why does everything sound like shit?" We did recordings on the 388 with about three mics. We'd tape one mic to the ceiling so it was hanging down, like a little mono overhead, and then another one on the kick drum with a pillow in it. When we were a little bit older we got some money together to go record at a studio in Kansas City that we knew. We recorded to [Tascam] DA-88s through a pro Tascam console. I don't know how many mics the guys put up on the drums, but we did this whole recording and it was like, "Wow, this is terrible." I think that's when it finally snapped for me. There was something that we were doing before that worked better for what we were trying to do.
That's advanced thinking for that age.
Yeah, exactly. I think that's been something that's kind of followed me along.
You started your music career as a bass player.
I started young, working as an acoustic jazz bass player in Kansas City. I went down about a ten year "jazz guy" road where I didn't want to play electric bass. I wanted to play swing. I went to CalArts and studied with Charlie Haden, moved to New York for a short while trying to do the jazz thing, and then came back out here and decided I wanted to transition into a different style of music. At that time in jazz everybody was trying to be the more mathematical player. Play faster, play louder, make it more complicated, and write compositions that nobody can play or listen to. I got so burnt out. Even the jazz, I like it simple; the '50s and early-'60s. When it gets to the mid-'60s, jazz starts to lose me a little bit. I was out here trying to get a gig on bass. I had studied at CalArts with a couple different people who were trying to get me to play five and six string basses. One guy was trying to teach me how to comp and tap on six-string bass. At the time, I was listening to records like The Headhunters, Tower of Power, Chicago, Motown, and of course The Beatles. I bought this horrible six-string bass, and thought, "Why can't I sound like Motown?" I was literally looking at all these old albums and saw that in every picture of the band the bass player had a [Fender] P Bass. That's when I went, "Okay, I'm going to get an old P Bass." That was the beginning of the whole transition to where I am now. I bought a '72 P Bass, but it still didn't sound right. Then I heard about flatwound strings. I put them on and was like, "Oh, shit. Now I'm starting to sound like these bass players I've been listening to all this time." There was nobody there to tell me, "If you want to sound like the old guys, you put flatwound strings on an old bass and play through a tube amp." What I was being told was, "You need to learn how to tap and comp so you can play in a coffee shop." [laughs]
At CalArts were you just playing and studying bass?
Yes. No recording there. They did have a studio, but it wasn't something I was interested in for a long time.
When did you make the jump to playing with bands and making records?
It's all strange how it went down. I was trying to transition out of the jazz world. I was looking for a band and was auditioning in L.A. There's this guy I think is still around named Barry Squire who does these "cattle call" type auditions. He's a sweet dude, but I'd get called in for weird Christian rock bands, or a Disney band. I'd be in a line of 20 people to go play the worst fucking music you've ever heard in your life. I was trying to latch onto something and couldn't find anything. Then Charlie Haden told me about his daughter's band, The Haden Triplets. They were playing old Carter Family and Haden Family tunes. I went to see them play; they were amazing singers and the music was great. I went up and said, "You guys don't have an acoustic bass player. I studied with your dad. You should hire me." They were like, "Yeah, I dunno." I called up Charlie and said, "Tell your daughters to hire me." They called me back and said, "Dad says we should try you out." That's the first thing that got me into the beginning of what was the Silver Lake scene. I was working, and people were asking me to play on their recordings. I guess through all that I got an audition to play with Beck. He ended up going with another guy and not hiring me, but somehow [drummer] Joey Waronker heard about me, and he hit me up to do an audition. I went in, didn't get that either, and was totally bummed. Then, a few days later, he called me up and said, "Hey, do you want to go get coffee?" All of a sudden I was doing sessions with Joey Waronker. I bought a 388 and started doing recordings here. A great songwriter, Benji Hughes, and I were hanging out, partying, writing weird songs, and I was recording them on the 388. Joey would come by and play drums for fun. Benji was making a record [A Love Extreme] for New West [Records] with Keefus Green [Ciancia]; a really cool producer. They were finishing up the record and were like, "Hey, we want to use the songs you recorded on this record, so you're going to be the producer of these songs." At that point I was like, "What's a producer? What do you mean?"
Your first production credit and you didn't even realize you were producing?
Exactly. Once I realized, "Oh wow, that's cool. I can help somebody with their songs to try and get good sounds on them." Then I went down a huge rabbit hole. Joey pulled me out on the road to play guitar with Sia for a couple years. Then we played on Norah Jones' record, and she asked us to go on tour. I started making money and started buying old gear. I was obsessed with finding the cheap old shit that people didn't know about.
What were some of your first acquisitions?
The Auditronics Grandson [110] was my first console. I had that forever. I actually just recently got rid of that, as well as an 8-channel rack that had I used forever. Then it was weird old tape machines. I got some Scullys for nothing. Eleni Mandell sold me a 4-track Scully and I restored it. Mark Linett [Tape Op #47] bought it off me because he was transferring Brian Wilson's tapes. Then I bought a Tascam MS-16 thinking I'd be super dope with a 1-inch, 16-track. I hated it. Somebody was selling these Scullys I have now, so I bought two of them; a 1-inch, 8-track and a 1/4-inch, 2-track. That, along with the Auditronics Grandson, was my rig forever. I did a lot of fun recordings on that gear.
You're still playing and touring, right?
Exactly. Still touring, and spending every penny on old microphones. I started to do more sessions and meet all these great producers. I started working with Glyn Johns [Tape Op #109], Ethan Johns [#49], Nigel Godrich, and Brian Burton [Danger Mouse]. I was being a real geek, and becoming friends with some of these people. I would pick their brains, or be looking over their shoulder trying to figure it out. One of the biggest influences was Nigel. I was tight with Joey [Waronker], and he [Nigel] was working with Joey a lot. He'd bring me in on a few things. We ended up doing some recordings at my old house where we were fucking around, trying to write music, and using the bare minimum of equipment I had, like the Auditronics console, a Digi 002, a RØDE MK1 mic, and a few other microphones. He'd place them in a certain way and we'd make these incredible sounding recordings. It's like, "I won't fucking touch that!" It was inspiring to see somebody like that come in, use minimal gear, and make it sound great.
How did you end up playing with The Black Keys?
When I was on the road with Norah, I met Pat Carney [Black Keys' drummer] at a bar and we hit it off. When they wanted to add a bass player and a keyboard player, he called me. I think he thought I was a keyboard player. I said, "Yeah, I guess I could do that, but I'm really a bass player." His management called me and said, "They need bass too." They had a couple other guys, Nick [Movshon] and Leon [Michels], who were playing, but they had their own thing too. They needed somebody to fill in for a tour; they called me up and asked if I could do it. It fit right in the middle of a gap we had with Norah Jones. They said, "Hire a keyboard player, learn the material, and show up in Buffalo. Our first show's on this day." I showed up and we literally ran the set at soundcheck. That was it! That was right before they blew up. I think it was the promo tour for Brothers.
Is your studio strictly analog?
No. I love tape, I love that process and I think it saves time, but I've done a lot of projects in Pro Tools. I used to really fucking loathe Pro Tools, but lately I feel like it's gotten easier. A big turning point for me were the UA plug-ins. Once there was modeling of vintage gear in a good way I could set up in-the-box the same way as I do on my console. I frequently work that way now when I know I'm going to have a lot of recalls. But if I get a band in here that's down to do it the old way, it's so much fun. I just did a record recently that we did completely analog.
Where do you see the value of doing a project all analog? Is it the workflow and focus on performances?
Yeah, there is a sound thing that happens. I still love the 388 and will do weird demos and recordings on that machine. I'll do stupid shit, like record with the dbx [noise reduction] on and then turn it off. It has this insane, fucked-up compressed sound. There's magic in the tape recording that isn't in Pro Tools. I don't think there's any one way to do it, but for me a lot of this is just the process. It's so easy to get stuck in Pro Tools thinking, "I can make that better." With tape, I like to make decisions. It will probably need some mixing and processing but, for the most part, I can put the faders up and shit sounds good. I got to work with Glyn Johns on a record, and something he did blew my mind. When it was time to mix, he brought the fucking console up to zero and that was the mix. He was printing it. I thought, "Well, fuck. That sounds good."
"Giving people the space to be creative and find the right path, without being involved, is something I’ve been trying to work on a little bit more."
How do you approach each of your projects, in terms of what your role is?
It's always different. One of the important things is that I've got to be able to grab onto something in the music that I feel like I can improve upon. It's easy enough to record somebody that is great. That seems easier than taking on a challenge of somebody who comes in who's a little bit lost. It comes down to the songs, the performance, and what they're doing. I have such a knee-jerk reaction – taste-wise – to everything. I've learned to try and trust that. It's not to say that I'm always right, but when someone comes in and there's something that hits me like, "I don't know if I can record this song," I'll get nervous about it and talk to the artist. It's like psychotherapy. I have to be able to gain this person's trust and talk to them in a way that isn't going to turn them off or get them defensive. I have to find out what it is about the song that's good, as well as be able to convey to them what's good about it and be positive. Then it comes down to every instrument and every performance. If I'm bringing a band in here, I'm watching the drummer. I want to see how he hits the kick drum. Does he bury the pedal, or does he hit off of it? I'm going to put a different drum up for different things. I don't like people to bring their drums in here. I have my drums, and most drummers will come in here and be totally happy with what I have. Sometimes you get guys who are a little less experienced who say, "No, I need to bring my drums." I say, "You can bring them. Just set them outside for a minute, come in here, and go through and tap on these drums." I know how everything in here works, and I know how to get the sounds that I want. I'll usually set the band up and get them playing. They can start with their own gear, and then I'll walk around as they're getting sounds in [the live room]. "That guitar sounds a little harsh. Why don't you try this one?" I'll go and tweak on their amp. "What pedal are you playing right now? I don't really like that one. Do you want to try this thing?" Once we get the sounds right, I might say, "This section's weird, and the way you're singing this is a little too much. Let's hone this in." I'm pretty heavy-handed.
How do you think your process has changed over time?
I do think that sometimes I can be a little bit overbearing. When I have great musicians in here, it's about letting them come upon things on their own in the same way that I would. Giving people the space to be creative and find the right path, without being involved, is something I've been trying to work on a little bit more. So much of the time I already know what I want, so to save time I'll say, "Hey, can you do this?" before they're ready. I'm still learning a lot about recording and engineering and [that aspect of it has] changed a lot. I guess that'd be the big one; trying to let people find their own thing, unless they're going in the completely fucking wrong direction.
>Who are some other producers or engineers who have inspired you along the way?
Well, I spoke about Nigel and meeting him. I've learned a lot from watching him, but a couple of the guys I worked with a lot were Darrell Thorp and Hugo Nicolson. They worked with Nigel a lot too, and they're both great engineers. I would have them mix projects for me, or come over and work with me in my studio. I was self-taught with tape – I was doing everything the long way. I've always edited tape, but I didn't know how people did it. I would put way too much tape over the edit. They would watch me and be like, "Most people do it more like this." When doing reverse tape effects, I would take the whole reel off the tape and somehow try to put it on backwards and find the same place. Hugo was like, "You can just flip them over."
Did they influence your aesthetic in the way you hear and how music filters through you?
No, I don't think so. I think they were able to be like, "We see what you're doing, and here's a way to do it better." I feel like I've had a very strange aesthetic that everybody's been helping me develop. They taught me things, like if you're using a Neve, 700 Hz is good place to take frequencies out.
Can you tell me the story of this Neve in front of us? They all have a story...
As I said, I had a little Auditronics Grandson, which I loved. At one point I acquired – on permanent loan – a mid-'60s, 18-channel Neumann [console] that was supposedly one of Chess Records' consoles from their B-room. I used those together for a long time. At some point the owner needed that back. I was using the Neumann as front-end, and monitoring on the Auditronics, and that was working well. My buddy, Jonathan Wilson [Tape Op #96], had just bought a big Cadac console. I knew that Nigel liked Cadacs, and I think Radiohead has one. I asked Jonathan, "What's up with these Cadacs? Do you know where another one is?" He said, "No, but if you want to get into the big leagues, I have a Neve I just bought." This board was at Jackson Browne's [Tape Op #105] studio in Santa Monica [Groove Masters]. Jonathan kept the Flying Faders [automation] and sold me the unloaded console. I wouldn't say it was cheap, but I was able to do it. It didn't have panning and none of the mute or solo switches totally worked. We recapped the whole thing. It was a 48-channel console, but that wasn't working out right, so we pulled out the logic system. Now it's an inline console, but you can only use 24 at a time. It's got 11 sends, and we fixed it so that I've got pre and post fader and off. Now the off position is actually a send as well – it comes straight out of the mic amp. If I want to mix straight to tape, I can do that. Everything comes to the console. My Pro Tools rig and my 16-track are all normaled to it, so I can flip back and forth between the two. I've got direct outs on all the channels. We put in new solos and mutes. It's been a huge process, and a huge pain in the ass, but it's been great. I never would have been able to afford a Neve, especially loaded. I have a good friend of mine who's been loaning me his Neve channels that he's not using, so I have four old 1073 Neve modules.
And the rest are all BAE 1084 modules?
Yup. It's great. The old Neve consoles are incredible, but I'm happy with the BAEs because they're a little more consistent. I'm filling it up as I can. I've got about ten so far. I've got four on loan. Every time I have a little extra money, I get a couple more 1084s.
All the music you sent me before this interview has a very distinct, classic vibe. The intro riff in the Beck tune ["Heaven's Ladder"] reminds me of Paul McCartney's "Too Many People," and the synth sounds are very Wings-y. Do you feel like people are coming to you looking for that specific thing?
Yeah, exactly. The people that come here I think mostly know what they're getting into. I'd say it has very little to do with the desk. It's a specific thing that I'm doing. I try to be versatile with everything, but there is a sound that I gravitate towards that usually works for people. Most everybody comes out of here happy.
Tell me about the Michael Kiwanuka sessions.
When I was on tour with The Black Keys somebody had sent Dan [Auerbach] Michael's EP before his first record came out. We were backstage in the UK, and he said, "Gus, check this out." Dan plays me this and I'm like, "Wow, that's fucking incredible. Is this some old Stax recording, or Motown, or something?" He said, "No, it's this new guy." We were both thinking, "Wow, it's amazing. I can't believe it." So Dan called his management and said, "Who is this Michael Kiwanuka? I want to meet him." They reached out, found out who his management was, and his management said, "We're looking to do another song for the record. Would you want to produce something?" He booked a session to record a song for the record, which I think ended up being a B-side in the UK, but one of the songs on the American release of [Home Again]. Michael has a really great bass player, so I was bummed. I was like, "You've got to include me somehow!" He said, "I don't really know what you do." I said, "Let me engineer." So we went into Konk Studios; the Kinks' studio. Joey Waronker happened to be in town, and I facilitated getting him involved in it. We recorded a track in a day, and I mixed it on their Neve the next day. That's how I met Michael.
And you've worked together since...
Later on he reached out to me to do a tour playing as a duo opening for Alabama Shakes. It didn't pay great, but I wanted to get to know this dude! I thought, "I'll go on tour with him and try to get him back into my recording studio." We had a great time, but I was constantly like, "You've got to come check out my rig." I kept trying to play him projects, but he wasn't really impressed. One day he called me up, because he needed to do some [music] for the Mohammed Ali documentary [Muhammad Ali: The Greatest]. He was living in Austin and asked, "Can you come out to Austin and record me? It's just acoustic guitar and vocals." I said, "Why don't you come out to L.A.?" He didn't want to, but I convinced him. We were only supposed to record one song, but I think we did [probably] four. It was all tracked to my Scully. We had such a great time, and it was some of the best music I've ever been involved in.
He's fantastic.
He's so fucking good! It was supposed to be just acoustic, but I produced the shit out of it ?– I felt like this was my opportunity. We got done with those four songs and he said, "I don't want to leave!" We kept going; I think we recorded fifteen songs! We were so stoked on it, but we turned it in and the label said it sounded too "American." His record was finally released, but I think that they shelved at least two or three different [versions of the] record before it came out. Danger Mouse finally got involved and did some of the songs. It's a bit of a bummer when you don't make the cut, but to this day I still play people what we did.
Do you think that the gear influences your sounds, or are you going for something and that's why you have the gear?
It's funny. It's something that I struggle with a little bit, because I go back and forth on that. What is it to be a great producer? All the great producers have such a unique sound. You could spot them from a mile away with almost any of their recordings. I don't know that I am intentionally trying to do that. Sometimes I feel like I should be a little more broad. I don't want all my work to sound the same, or have artists come record with me and be like, "I really like this record you did. Can you make me sound exactly like that record?" I don't want it to be identical. I think I have always gone for a certain aesthetic and sound, without trying. But I don't know that it's the gear. I think the gear has helped and changed over the years, but even back when I was recording on a 388, the idea didn't sound nearly as good as what I'm doing now. The vibe of it has always been the same, with tight drum sounds, and the snare and kick up too loud. Things like that.
Is there a piece of gear that's absolutely indispensable to you?
There are a couple of things that I feel attached to. I love my Scully tape machines, especially the 2-track. It does a thing when you hit it hard. Those machines don't have a ton of headroom, but they add a thick layer of aesthetic to whatever you give to them. Because I've always mixed really dark, and with a lot of low-end, that machine would fix that for me. I had a tech named John Hinson who made me a copy of the EMI RS124 [compressor]. My buddy Hugo [Nicolson] started this company, Lisson Grove, that copied it. I have one of those that has been on loan. I like those for certain things. When you crush them on a room mic on drums, you start to get that Beatles-y thing going on.
I wanted to ask you about your own band, Willoughby.
I've been working on a second record for such a long time; I keep getting distracted by other projects and putting it off. But I love that project and I have a group of guys I love working with. The first Willoughby record [I Know What You're Up To] I did was such a long time ago. I did that on the 388. A lot of it was just me. Joey Waronker coproduced some of that record and played on it. I love doing that project because I do go a little bit wild when I'm hanging out with my friends. I always record to tape when I'm recording myself, and I get into some weird stuff. Some Joe Meek-inspired ideas, like speeding the tape up and recording vocals, or cutting tape up and turning it upside down.
It sounds like you're doing things you might not go for on someone else's record.
Well, it's not to say that I wouldn't do that; but I feel freer, and more willing to do it, without any other backup or any other plan, when I'm doing my own music. It depends on who's game. I just did a project where the band was completely up for whatever. They loved watching. It'd be like, "I'm going to edit all these takes together, turn something upside down at the end, and do this big reverb smash." They're all huddled around me, watching me cut tape, and completely freaked out.
Are there some ideas that you feel like you'd like to pass along to people who are budding producers or engineers?
A big part of recording that gets lost in all these conversations is how you play the instrument. Getting the sound from the string to the bass or guitar, then into the amplifier, and making sure that whatever it is you're doing speaks. If you're playing the drums, how are you playing the drums? Some drums speak really well when you hit them hard. Some speak really well when you hit them lightly. That's the thing I'm often struggling with with other musicians; trying to get them to play these instruments. I've figured out a way to make them speak for me, and I am trying to get other people to be able to use them in the same way. I think that's such a huge part of it that often gets overlooked. Like tuning the drums. I'll see so many engineers where there's a drum set there and the drummer comes in, sits down, and doesn't think about it. The engineer's in there trying to fight it and find a way to make the drums sound good. If I'm on a session like that, I'm always biting my tongue, like, "Can we work on the drums a little bit? Let's get them so they sound good in the room before you start throwing mics up." I think that's a big part. Also, I'm into having limitations.
What do you see as the virtues of limitations?
I run into more problems with the more options I give myself. That's another reason I love recording – at least the basics – to tape. Sometimes I'll record to Pro Tools and have 10 or 20 playlists of a track, and I'll be editing and scooting things around for hours and hours. Usually by the time I'm done I'm thinking, "Why isn't this working?" It doesn't feel right.
What's your next move?
In the last couple of years, I've made a conscious decision to try to be off the road and focus more on producing. It was always something I did in my spare time, along with writing and recording. I'd been with The Black Keys for four years, and then Beck wanted me to go on the road. It was a short run. I had just bought this house and was building it out. I had saved up for a long time to get all the gear. So that's the big thing. We did all the windows with 1/2-inch glass so that I don't bother the neighbors. We built out these two rooms fully, and installed studio air conditioning. I've been lucky with my touring and recording career as a session musician to get to this point. But now it's this leap of faith to try to be a producer, songwriter, and artist full-time. It's hard to keep things steady, but it feels like I'm always working. I'm sure I'll probably end up doing more touring, at some point, but for the moment I'm enjoying this. I'm hoping to get to the point where I can do it a little more comfortably, and pick my projects so there's more space in between them.
