Itâs been 40 years since SoCal brothers Jeff and Steven McDonald, then only 17 and 13, first released music as Redd Kross â okay, the band was actually called Red Cross initially â but, cease-and-desist orders aside, thatâs one hell of long time for a creative relationship to survive and thrive. From their scrappy beginnings as an amped up, pop-culture-obsessed punk unit to the muscular Kiss and Beatles informed power pop band that clinched them not one, but two major-label deals in the late â80s and â90s, to their most recent series of excellent albums for Merge Records, Redd Kross have brought superior songcraft to the rock ânâ roll table. When the McDonalds began their musical journey it would have been unthinkable for a band, at least one seeking to achieve professional results, to self-record, produce, and mix their own albums. But, as recording technology has evolved over the ensuing decades, both brothers (Steven more obsessively than Jeff, as youâll see) have embraced the freedom and ability to maintain the integrity of a creative vision that DIY record-making affords. The younger McDonald, who had already tasked himself with mixing Redd Krossâ 2012 album, Researching the Blues, also recorded and engineered all of their latest release, Beyond the Door at his own studio, The Whiskey Kitchen. Propelled by the inimitable Dale Crover of the Melvins (see interview this issue) on drums, itâs an album that sounds so full, so energetic, so totally tubular, that it led an occasional Tape Op contributor such as myself to think, âFuck! Who recorded this?â Thatâs the very question that lead me to pitch a story on Redd Kross to the magazine.
Itâs been 40 years since SoCal brothers Jeff and Steven McDonald, then only 17 and 13, first released music as Redd Kross â okay, the band was actually called Red Cross initially â but, cease-and-desist orders aside, thatâs one hell of long time for a creative relationship to survive and thrive. From their scrappy beginnings as an amped up, pop-culture-obsessed punk unit to the muscular Kiss and Beatles informed power pop band that clinched them not one, but two major-label deals in the late â80s and â90s, to their most recent series of excellent albums for Merge Records, Redd Kross have brought superior songcraft to the rock ânâ roll table. When the McDonalds began their musical journey it would have been unthinkable for a band, at least one seeking to achieve professional results, to self-record, produce, and mix their own albums. But, as recording technology has evolved over the ensuing decades, both brothers (Steven more obsessively than Jeff, as youâll see) have embraced the freedom and ability to maintain the integrity of a creative vision that DIY record-making affords. The younger McDonald, who had already tasked himself with mixing Redd Krossâ 2012 album, Researching the Blues, also recorded and engineered all of their latest release, Beyond the Door at his own studio, The Whiskey Kitchen. Propelled by the inimitable Dale Crover of the Melvins (see interview this issue) on drums, itâs an album that sounds so full, so energetic, so totally tubular, that it led an occasional Tape Op contributor such as myself to think, âFuck! Who recorded this?â Thatâs the very question that lead me to pitch a story on Redd Kross to the magazine.
Was being in control of the recording process something that you always wanted to achieve?
Jeff: Even on our early records, like Born Innocent, we had guidance; but we were actually producing them ourselves. We had all the arrangements; everything. But we didnât know the technical aspects, like what a compressor did, so it took a while.
Steven: I think that, from the very beginning, the goal was to be able to be totally self-sufficient. But before computers, the studio was so intimidating; it was a mad scientist lab that we knew nothing about. I paid for our first recordings when I was 11 with my paper route. We went to a place called Media Art [Recording Studio] in Hermosa Beach, and it was 2-inch, 16-track. We would do the graveyard shift and get it for half price. Weâd start at midnight and record till 9 a.m. I was 12 years old. It was very psychedelic, because we did not live a graveyard shift life.
J: It was sort of scary and horrifying, but also very cool.
When did you get your own recording gear?
S: We had done some tracks for compilations and B-sides on ADATS, and on a Tascam 38 1/2-inch, 8-track that we borrowed from Jeffâs wife, Charlotte [Caffey]. She was in the Go-Goâs and had built a home studio at the height of the band in 1981, when that was the pinnacle of home-recording gear. Thereâs a dbx noise reduction box that a lot of people swear by that you can run everything through, but I donât use that. Iâll still use that machine sometimes now, because the kids want to use tape since they were robbed of that era. But Iâll always say to them, âLook kid, Iâve made as many shitty-sounding recordings on tape as I have on digital!â
J: Itâs an awesome sounding machine.

S: When Redd Kross was on hiatus from 1997 to 2006, I got into trying to learn how to do this myself. Finally, I got my first Mac and a [Digidesign] Digi 001 in 2000, and Jeff got one around the same time. It wasnât until we had Pro Tools that we seriously thought about doing this ourselves.
J: I produced a record on Sympathy for the Record Industry by a band called The Beards, which was Kim Shattuck from The Muffs and Lisa Marr from Cub. It took me almost a year because I didnât know how to use Pro Tools.
S: In my studio Iâm still using the Digi 002 I got about 15 years ago. That has eight inputs, and then I use a 20-bit ADAT to Lightpipe in another eight inputs. Theoretically the recordings are all 24-bit because theyâre on Pro Tools, but eight of my channels are digitized, via 20-bit.
J: Itâs vintage digital retro!
When did you start recording and mixing all of the Redd Kross music yourself?

S: For our last record, Researching the Blues, we did the basic tracks at a nice studio in Eagle Rock [Los Angeles] called Kingsize Soundlabs, because I didnât know how to get a good drum sound yet. Then we did overdubs and some vocals at our own space. I spent a bunch of money on a mixer because I love their records. I obviously didnât have the goods to get the sound that they get on their own records, and I realized that I had to figure out how to mix it myself. That record started in around 2008 and we didnât finish it until about 2011 because I was also playing in other bands â OFF! and the Melvins â and getting up the nerve to finish the record.
J: I started working on some vocals at home that I hadnât done yet, and then sending Steven rough mixes.
S: I was in Australia on tour and feeling far away from home when Jeff sent me those. I was on the city tram in Perth when I listened to them, and it was the first time Iâd heard the songs in a year or so. I was going crazy because I was so excited about how good it was. That was a real shot in the arm. Then Jeff started cheerleading me through the process of finishing the record. Itâs still not a pristine record, but I think that it has an energy that is appropriate for the performances in the songs.
The drums on your recent record, Beyond the Door, also sound like they were recorded in a nice, big room.

S: Are fucking with me?
Iâm totally not fucking with you! They sound great!
S: Youâre going to make me cry. My studio, The Whiskey Kitchen, is a rehearsal room in Glassell Park [Los Angeles] with just the shitty foam that comes with the room on the walls. Iâve done nothing to it. The ceiling is high, but I donât think that Iâm utilizing any of that. Itâs not a reflective, lively room at all. Itâs carpeted floor.
Well, then youâve figured out how to make some smooth moves in post!
S: Iâve taught myself how to use reverbs. Basically, everything I do is back end. All my front end is 500 Series preamps that I built from kits, like Hairball Audio. There are a couple of songs where I was still using this â70s Yamaha PM-1000 mixer. I found a place online where people were taking them and putting direct outs and new capacitors in them. I thought, âOkay, Iâll try that.â But those slowly started to die, and it wasnât until I went to mix the album and I heard the song âWhen Do I Get to Sing âMy Wayââ [a Sparks cover] that was recorded two years earlier on some of that Japanese [gear] that I realized, âOh, now I can hear what Iâm missing.â Whatâs not working, come mix time.
Thatâs the worst feeling.
S: Iâm not coming from a studio background, so itâs only been through strict woodshedding in my little space and figuring it out myself. I canât go make coffee for someone now! [Be an intern. -ed.] The only way I could glean information was to hire one of these guys, whose work I love, to work on one of my records and then ask, âCan I take a look under the hood? Are you cool with that?â The chance is that theyâre going to have so much more gear that I donât have anyway. My actual fantasy would be to work with someone that I admire and respect, and then ask them to work on my system!
What reverbs did you use on Beyond the Door?
J: [Fender] Twin Reverb.
S: Yeah, everythingâs going through a Twin Reverb. No, Iâm kidding. But Iâm just dicking around. I have a [Sonnox] Oxford reverb [plug-in] that I use. But itâs mostly on the snare. I also use a slap delay; I have a little bit in there. My father-in-law, Lenny Waronker, is a producer. I was talking to him about his producing days, and I donât remember what particular session he was referring to, but he was talking about how they used an early take. He said, âWe had to go with this take and we didnât even have the reverb right yet.â I realized, âOh, right. Because thatâs the one thing that you guys could fuck with.â The whole thing was probably going through a chamber. That stuck with me. I maybe even misinterpreted what he was saying, but it made me realize that on a lot of my favorite records everything might be going to reverb. If you can find that magic spot, then who cares if someone would laugh at you about it or think itâs wrong? I love reverb on bass. I know that people will tell me that it creates some rolling wave that crosses out sounds. But when I listen to âHello Hoorayâ on Alice Cooperâs Billion Dollar Babies, I hear a reverb on the bass guitar. I fucking love it. Itâs so bitchinâ!
Whatâs your drum micâing scheme at the studio?
S: Shure was very kind to Redd Kross two years ago and gave us a nice care package of BETA 57s and 58s to go out on tour with. I use one of the BETA 57s on snare and a BETA 52A on the kick, as well as a PZM [mic] inside the drum. For overheads, I have a couple of Shure condenser mics in a âcrossâ pattern [X/Y]. I point them away from the cymbals; a little bit behind the drummer. Thatâs a method someone recently showed me. Our drummer, Dale Crover [Melvins], nails the cymbals. I donât want it to take over everything. I also have two room mics about 10 feet away in a stereo pair; I bleed it in a little bit. Otherwise they sound pretty trashy.
Is Dale one of those drummers where, when he hits the drums, it just sounds great?
S: Oh, yeah. People know him best for the Melvins and Nirvana, where heâs more coming from a post hardcore/metal place, but I feel Redd Kross brings this inner Ringo [Starr] out of him.
J: Yeah, he brings the swing more with us.
S: Itâs awesome, because itâs a skill he definitely possesses, but he doesnât get to flex that muscle as much.
Steven, are you also mixing at The Whiskey Kitchen? If not, is the room that youâre mixing in tuned or treated at all?
S: I mix in a bunch of places, and none of my areas are tuned. They all have lots of bass traps â theyâre horrible! We have a room downstairs at our house that my wife, Anna [Waronker, of That Dog], and I use, but weâve done nothing to it. Often, playing it back through these little Infinity [home] speakers that I have depresses me intensely, because thereâs this peak around 200 Hz â this muddy area â where Iâm going, âFUCK! FUCK!â I have a pair of AKG headphones that Jeff bought me about five years ago for Christmas; one of the most supportive things anyoneâs ever done for me, on a technical level. I can trust those for low end, as well as to have a sense of whatâs going to happen.
Do you guys generally agree on how mixes should sound?
J: Weâre pretty in tune when it comes to that. If Steven has been working on something all day and I come in fresh and have notes, he never has a problem with them because he knows that Iâm fresh.
S: I remember that on the song âFantĂ stico Robertoâ on the new album, Jeff came and was like, âYou need to turn the bass down.â
J: I said down? Iâm always telling you to turn the bass up! [laughs] Steven has way more ability to hyper-focus for long, long periods of time. Where Iâm like, âOkay...â
S: Yeah, I have a tolerance for repetition that I think is unique, at least in my family!
People always ask me, âHow can you listen to songs over and over again without losing your mind?â
S: I would add to that question, âHow are you able to listen to it that many times and not lose perspective?â Because thatâs the key. Itâs about not getting lost; forest from the trees. You will start thinking, âI canât tell whatâs up, whatâs down, or what side itâs coming out of.â Thatâs a muscle that needs to be flexed; it doesnât come naturally. You have to be tolerant to repetition to get to that place.
J: Sometimes you have to walk away for a while.
S: Sure, but Iâm an obsessive, crazy person; if I get into something, I will overdo it.
Is it hard for you to let a record go?
S: Thereâs an expression, âRecords are never finished. Theyâre only relinquished.â I relate to that. I gave myself a deadline with this record and set a mastering date. I was also trying to work with it in the confines of other projects.
Speaking of other projects, Steven, you worked with The Side Eyes; Jeffâs daughterâs [Astrid McDonald] punk band. Their record, So Sick, sounds super heavy and exploded. What was your approach?
S: I changed her diapers, so weâre very close. Their record definitely benefits from where Iâve taken my studio recording. We did it live in my space. I think we captured an energy; a moment of a young band in their infancy. I think back to our early recordings, where weâd rehearsed in the garage and then weâd go into this sterile studio environment. Theyâd take my amp⊠âDonât take it away from me. What are you doing with it? Youâre putting it in a closet.â Now you have these headphones, right? âOkay. This is totally foreign and weird. This feels weird. I canât tell whatâs going on.â Iâm trying to remove that part of the process. In my space, Iâll do a lot of live recordings. Iâll turn the bass guitar way down, but I let the guitar bleed. I donât give a fuck. No vocals, because you canât use that vocal track anyway.
Do you see a different mindset in a young punk rock band recording now versus 40 years ago when you guys were starting out? Are they more comfortable with the technology?
S: This doesnât apply to The Side Eyes, because theyâre good kids. Theyâre very considerate people, especially for their age. But Iâve worked with a lot of young bands. Sure, someoneâs always got a kid brother that that has [Apple] GarageBand. That trickles all the way down. They donât value it on the same level. Theyâre saying, âWell, my little brotherâs got GarageBand.â So, the whole [recording] thing is dumbing down a bit, or itâs being devalued from the very start. But Iâve also found that when you do it cheap, because thereâs something about the band that you love, that then they donât take it seriously. I think part of it has to do with their recording experiences prior to coming and working with me, but there is this new expectation that you crap it out really fast and then someoneâs going to fix it for you. The old mentality of being in the garage and rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing⊠in my experience some of that work ethicâs been lost.
Even before you started recording your own records, you were generally credited as the producers or co-producers. Was that a struggle?
S: When we made Third Eye for Atlantic Records it was our major label debut. We worked with this guy that we picked for the wrong reasons.
J: We thought he would just be a technician.
S: He seemed the most passive. Because all we wanted was a good kick-ass engineer who wouldnât give us pushback on our ideas. Then, when we were together in the studio, he was remarkably passive aggressive.
I love that record.
S: Well, thank you. From a technical aspect itâs done well, but there are a lot of guitar sounds that bummed us out then and they still bum us out now. We were constantly battling with this guy over it. He was pushing for an Andy Summers [The Police] sound â the word âglassyâ came up a lot. We were saying, âNo! What are you talking about? We want fucking Pete Townshend on The Whoâs Live at Leeds!â This guy was worried about his career; it was 1990 and a shitty time in popular music. He was trying to appeal to that moment, and we didnât give a fuck about that.
J: If you listen to the record, we won most of those battles. Thereâs nothing that dates it. It was the fight that was so annoying.
S: We still caught a lot of flak, because it was our major label debut and it had this cleaned-up sound that we never wanted in the first place. People were like, âYou guys sold out!â The next time we got to make a record was Phaseshifter, and we worked with the great John Agnello [Tape Op #14]. We definitely should have given him a co-production credit, but we didnât. We had a chip on our shoulder at that moment, because people had treated us like we had sold out. John settled for ârecorded by,â and we got the production credit. I would say John taught me more about producing than anybody else has ever done. The next record, which was our last record before our hiatus, was Show World with Chris Shaw [#83]. I remember we were still trying to do that same arrangement, and Chris wouldnât have it. He said, âLook, I live and die by the credit.â I remember not understanding what the value of it was to him. These guys are talking about their next job. Itâs not about ego. Itâs, âNo, this is how I get work.â Not to take away from our vision, because I do think we deserve some kind of production credit, but I think we could have been groovier!