Matthew E. White: Spacebomb and Beyond!



Making his splash with his debut solo album, Big Inner, in 2012, Matthew E. White soon became in demand as a producer. As a co-owner and founder of Spacebomb, a label/studio/aesthetic concept out of Richmond, Virginia, heās gathered people around him, like the brilliant arranger Trey Pollard and the fine-tuned Spacebomb House Band players, in order to bring the music to life. With his new album K Bay just released, Matthew and I caught up on Zoom for a little history and philosophy of recording.
Making his splash with his debut solo album, Big Inner , in 2012, Matthew E. White soon became in demand as a producer. As a co-owner and founder of Spacebomb, a label/studio/aesthetic concept out of Richmond, Virginia, heās gathered people around him, like the brilliant arranger Trey Pollard and the fine-tuned Spacebomb House Band players, in order to bring the music to life. With his new album K Bay just released, Matthew and I caught up on Zoom for a little history and philosophy of recording.
Itās good to finally meet!
Yeah, itās an honor, man! Iām a huge fan of the publication.
Weāve been hanging in there. Youāve been hanging in there.
Yeah. What a year.
You probably had a lot of shows and projects that were scheduled?
Yeah, yeah. I got lucky. I did have all that scheduled, but I also had a child in the beginning of March 2020. It was an odd time to have a kid, but, at the same time, it was a little bit of a blessing in disguise. I got to hang out with my baby for a year, which was nice.
Youāve got a new album out, K Bay . I understand you had a new process of trying different takes of songs?
Yeah. I recorded two versions of every song. One was more ānormalā drums, bass, guitar, piano, and whatever. Standard instrumentation for the main vocals to be sung over. Then I did another version that was a distilled composition, like guided improvisation, that was based around certain pillars of the song, whether it was harmonic material or a rhythmic ostinato like a bass line. Sometimes it was just pure colors. All the sounds would be exactly the same, and the sound design would be similar. I tried to get at some of the essence of the song that wasnāt the lyrics and wasnāt the form. I sort of based this on [producer] Teo Macero and Miles [Davisā] work with Bitches Brew and On the Corner .
Cool.
I did it to the same BPM, creating different textures for me to sample from, cut in, and use in different ways. Part of that process was connecting different interests for me, both as a composer and a producer. A lot of my background is in the history of production outside of song-based production, as well as the history of composition outside of songs. I was trying to find a way to use that interest and use some of that skillset to intersect with more song-based music; to try to connect those dots for me. Then it was also to get out of the box of bringing up the song and getting from A to Z. I enjoy that process, but this was a way for me to try to use my full width of interests and skillsets, and to get something a little bit more unique to me.
A lot of your music and your productions involve performing in a room and focusing on arrangements. Do you need to expand, open up, and think of other ways in order to keep working?
So much about this record was maxing out the āhouse bandā process. There were a lot of days in the studio circling that concept in a lot of different ways, from working really fast to taking a long time. I feel like itās not the end of the road, but from the development as a beginner ā on the first song-based records that I did ā itās like some records need to take a long time and need to be teased out. Then some records you need to make in a week.
Yeah, totally.
This record felt like it was an end to a lot of this work Iāve been doing with these guys for the past ten years. Knowing how to use their different instrumental personalities and what theyāre good at to get new ways to approach that āhouse bandā concept that weāve been working on for a long time. The uniqueness of that is all the water under the bridge. That is important. I feel I would be doing myself a disservice if I moved on from that. The fact that I have been making music in a studio setting with those guys for ten plus years at this point, thereās a built-in language that we can get to. They trust me, and I trust them. Thereās a lot more experimenting that I can do now that I couldnāt have done ten years ago, because we have a bigger studio vocabulary to pull from.
The path that you took is so similar to what was going on at Stax, Muscle Shoals, Motown, Royal, and a number of places across the country from the ā50s, ā60s, and ā70s that were working that way. Was that an informed decision based on that history?
It was based off of that, intentionally; primarily because I love that music. When you get to the bottom of how that music exists ā āWhy does it work? Why does it sound the way it does?ā ā it has to do with the administrative format of the recording, for lack of a better way to say it. The fact that those guys were in there, in a blue-collar 9-to-5 way, doing it with so many different people over and over again; thatās how they got that sound. They werenāt changing up personnel. They werenāt changing up studios. They werenāt changing up the process. They werenāt changing up the gear. They did do all of those things over the course of a long period of time, but not session to session. They micād the drums the same way with small tweaks. For me, it was a lot of reading and research. Listening to the Otis Reddings of the world. Reading a lot about it. The note choices and whatnot are all important, but so much of the reason that they got to that is because of the way the label and label contracts were organized. The way the industry is set up has a lot to do with the music that comes out on the other side, which is an interesting thing to think about. In my case, it was a happy accident that I live in Richmond, and I live in an incredibly high-achieving musical community that has an incredible amount of talent in it. I donāt think I could put together a house band that is as good and as flexible as the band that I use regularly in most communities. Iām lucky to work with those guys. That was just timing. But the idea was definitely heavily informed by ā50s and ā60s labels; small Southern labels. Jamaican labels were also a big thing.
Oh, sure. Studio One [record label and studio].
Yeah. A huge influence, how they worked and made records.
When you have an adept house band and people you work with regularly, then the focus becomes the songs and the performance.
Yeah, definitely. You can get down the line a little bit faster. Itās kind of cold, but so much of recording is about time management.
Yeah, tell me!
Obviously, budget informs that a ton, but then, at the end of the day, for me, there is this intangible magic that can happen in the studio thatās unrepeatable and hard to find. Itās difficult, and everyone wants to get there in their studio experience. But thereās also a whole chunk of things that need to happen before youāre getting to that level. When you have accomplished musicians, or people who are on the same page, and who are good at their instruments, you can get to that ecosystem where unplanned magic can happen. You have to know how the songs go. You have to know the chords and the parts. You have to be able to play together. You have to know what the BPM is. You have to know all the riffs in the song, if there are any. All of that. With those guys, we can get places pretty fast and get all of that out of the way. Then weāre at a place to start dealing with the ādark artsā side thatās hard to pin down.
Spacebomb was initially a studio in your attic? Is that true?
Yeah. It started in my attic. Then we moved to another location downtown that was smaller. We had to get out of my attic. It was great, but it wasnāt professional. As soon as we found ourselves on the precipice of being actual professionals, it was like, āWeāve gotta get somewhere that we can bring someone to thatās not my house.ā We went and moved to another small spot downtown, but we would do some work other places. Thereās a studio called Montrose Recording in Richmond. Itās an excellent studio, and itās important to mention in this interview because it is such a special studio. When we were in the smaller studio, we would often use Montrose for our bigger projects. Then for my record, when we were building out what is now the more āofficialā space in our studio ā which is bigger and can take on all of our projects ā I used Montrose to record almost the entirety of this new record. Itās a special place. Adrian [Olsen], the owner and engineer, is a great friend and wonderful collaborator. Things that were recorded at Montrose will get said to be recorded at Spacebomb, but theyāre not. They were recorded at Montrose. Iām sure you know how that goes.
I know the frustration very well.
Spacebomb is sort of an idea and can be anywhere. Currently Spacebomb is a specific studio, at 106 South Robinson in Richmond, but because it was under construction while I was working on this record, and because I love working at Montrose, we did this record out there. For K Bay , my home studio [also known as K Bay] was actually on that property in another building. Itās like a sprawling farm with a bunch of old buildings. Montrose is one of them and K Bayās another. Itās only been pretty recently that Spacebomb has opened up and been public, in a way. Itās hard for us to get that word out locally. You can rent Spacebomb. The reputation of the 9-to-5 house band, working in there every day, is not necessarily the case all the time. But it didnāt start off as a public-facing business. I went to school for jazz and for arranging. Halfway through that experience, I was like, āIf I want my music to be heard, I need to understand recording.ā I had a 4-track growing up, but I wasnāt good at it. Iām still not particularly gifted on the engineer front. It is shocking how much more that I know now than I did, but itās a trial by fire because Iām not particularly a natural at it. I wanted to get my music out there. I wanted people to hear it. Recording is important. I canāt just know how to write and play. I have to know how to record. I lived in this place with an attic. I went to a recording friend of mine and asked, āCan I buy all of your old shit? Can you give me enough so that I can plug a mic into a preamp and into something that will record it, so that I can start off?ā Just yesterday I got back the first little board that was in the original Spacebomb. Itās a Kelsey 16-channel live console. It looks amazing; black with candy-colored knobs. It was that into an [Alesis] HD24. It was a pretty gnarly setup.
Has the acquisition of gear been a slow process of outgrowing equipment and trying to expand your capabilities?
Yeah, itās been in direct correlation to how much I understand the art of recording. For me, itās been figuring out that thereās not a ārightā way to do it. That the way that one wants to make music needs a certain kind of gear. You donāt really know what that is until you run into problems. Like, āI need a fader for this!ā A fader does a thing; I want to āplayā it in. There are so many effects where I want to fly a fader up. To do what I need to do, I need a certain amount of channels, or a certain amount of buses. Or Iām listening to some music, and itās like, āHowād they do that?ā I start asking questions. I remember when we got a [Lexicon] Prime Time delay in the studio, and we started messing around with that. I was like, āHoly shit! This is the sound of so much stuff!ā Itās been a slow build for me, regarding where my interests go. I try really hard to not get things that are in vogue. Iāve purposefully stayed away from the [Teenage Engineering] OP-1 [keyboard] because everyone used it. Thatās not recording gear, but it kind of is. I try pretty hard to keep it practical. Honestly, I try not to spend a lot of money. I recommend trying to understand what youāre buying and dig into what you get and understand it as much as possible. Use the things you have. So much about recording for me is the process that a certain piece of equipment will force you into. Like tape does sound a certain way, but, more importantly, it forces you to record a certain way. It makes you make decisions early on. Thatās an important thing to me for the process; to not delay decision-making. Donāt leave backups or extra mics up that you may or may not use. Get rid of them. The process is informed by the gear you use, and the process decides the sound as much as a piece of gear might decide the sound. Again, once you get into that world, it is a dark art of trying to swim and find your way to the top.
Totally.
Itās fun, too. Thatās whatās so magnetic about it. Itās a very difficult thing to solve. Itās a never-ending journey. Try to keep having fun with it.
<div class="captxt" style="background-color: #fff !important; color: #000 !important; text-align: center !important;"><em class="fa fa-camera"></em> Cameron Lewis</div>
When youāre producing someone, how soon do you start formulating a vision for how itās going to come across at the end?
For one thing, it depends on what people want from a producer. I try to talk about that early on. A producer is a pretty open job description, and depending on what music people listen to, and what process theyāve used, people are bringing their expectations of what a producer is into a session. A lot of times they donāt know there are other ways of doing it. I try to tease that out almost immediately. āWhat are you actually looking for? Do you want me to be a heavy-handed collaborator? Do you want me to do this music and you sing? Do you want this to be a completely collaborative work? Do you want me to just be someone to bounce ideas off of? Do you want me to be an administrator that makes sessions start on time, end on time, hand it in on time, and give you the freedom to work?ā When Iām creatively involved, which is my preference ā to be as involved as an artist would like, the first thing I do is I ask them to share a playlist with me thatās what they want the record to sound like so we can get on the same page as far as vocabulary. When someone says āgroovyā or āfunkyā or ādarkā or ādistortedā or āfuzzy,ā those mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people. I try to get their aesthetic background. Itās nice to know if their primary listening experience is from the ā60s, the ā70s, the ā80s, or now. That informs a lot of the decisions. What do they want it to sound like? If they want to sound like Prince, then thatās different than if they want it to sound like James Brown.
Very true.
There are practical decisions I make based on that. Then I try to get demos. I generally will make a text document and write out thoughts for them before we get in the studio of, āThis is where I think this song could go. Here are some ideas.ā I try to get the idea of what the initial instruments that everybodyās going to play are, so that if we have four band members in the studio I donāt want to be thinking about, āOh, is Alan [Parker] playing acoustic guitar, electric guitar, or 12-string guitar?ā
Yeah.
If I take care of that, then it can be more like, āThis is how I want to start. Cameron [Ralston] plays DI P Bass. Alan plays Strat with amp in the room. Pinson [Chanselle]ās playing close-micād drums. Mic the toms with overheads way off.ā Iāll have an idea. And it can all change, but at least weāre not talking about it when we walk in. When we walk in, I want it to say, āYou do this, you do this, you do this, you do this.ā Weāll see how it sounds. If it sounds like garbage, then weāll change. I feel you can spend a lot of wasted time in the start-up process. I try to keep a list of overdubs that I want to do, or that the artist wants to do, or that are on the demo. That way when we get to overdub time, itās not a free-for-all.
Oh, I know what you mean.
Thatās one of my least favorite seasons of recording. āAll right, overdubs. What are we going to do?ā āHey, we could do this!ā If you want an overdub, tell me. I put it on the list, and, as the producer, I get to prioritize the list. Then we check it off. When we run out of time, we move on. If we come back, then we know. It is so important to leave room for improvisation and to leave room to pivot. But itās like you have to start somewhere to even get to the place where you want to pivot, or where you have those ideas. Iām like foot on the gas when we get in the studio. āLetās start getting stuff down and start playing.ā If we donāt like an idea, we can change. Iām very comfortable with that. For this last record, Iām obviously way more heavy-handed on my own records than I can be on anyone elseās.
You can be!
I like to do a three-song triangulation of what weāre going for. For the first single that just came out, āGenuine Hesitation,ā it was ESG [Emerald, Sapphire & Gold], Kraftwerk, and Berlin-era Iggy Pop. Iāll listen to three songs and be like, āThis is the vibe.ā Itās not a sampling thing, or like, āPlay this exact drum part,ā but ESG has a certain way that they approach rhythm section parts and how much space there is. Itās that communication to the band of, āThis is the language that weāre using.ā Those guys are so flexible. At this point, we have so much listening time together. I lived with those guys. It was my 20s, where I was listening to music all the time, as well as partying with other people listening to music with those guys. Our language is deep. Sometimes with other peoplesā records, Iāll do that too. Itās a little bit harder. The game of telephone gets a little bit longer.
Like ESG might be a reference that some people donāt have.
Yeah.
I love the idea of a parallel universe with the songs on K Bay . Are you bringing in elements from the secondary takes or second takes?
It doesnāt happen all over the record. But the first thing you hear on the record, the first 30 seconds of the first song, is the totally alternate universe. With Trey, thereās actually less arranging on the record, but more moments when the arranging is by itself. It reads as orchestral, even though the main bodies of the songs are stripped down and direct band tracks. On the first tune, it was like, āHereāre some things I like about the tune harmonically. Can you write an orchestral gesture based on that?ā It gives me the ability to be a little bit more of a collage artist, along with being a songwriter and more of a composer-producer, as well as with being a lyricist and a singer. Production is about bringing out this hard-to-get three-dimensionality of when the sounds and the words make a thing that is bigger than they are separately. The first song is stacked with that. Then it happens a couple of other times on the record. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didnāt. I had another record come out six months ago that was a collaboration with Lonnie Holley [ Broken Mirror: A Selfie Reflection ].
That recordās wild! I love it.
That record is all those other takes. Itās all the alternate shit that didnāt get used. I had so much of it. I was like, āWhat am I going to do with this?ā I chopped it up Teo [Macero]-style, and then built little compositions out of it and asked Lonnie to sing over it. It is on the record; however, the not-so-secret but less-covered narrative is that it also turned into a whole other record.
That record reminded me of the group Can. Experimenting and letting the overdubs be pretty free.
There are no overdubs on that record. Yeah, the playing is wild. Thatās an example. There are songs on this new record, that if you listened to the new record and then listened to the Lonnie Holley record, youād be like, āOh!ā Theyāve been released in backwards order. Trey had more arrangements cut on this record [ K Bay ] than heās comfortable with, Iāll tell you that much. Thatās not usual for him. Trey and I have a great relationship, but there were different concepts competing for space. And there were far more arrangements written on the record than that made it to the final project. Somewhere Iāve got beautiful orchestral writing just sitting there.
Itās so hard with any overdub, especially when youāre doing something like that which is more involved. Itās so hard to relegate them to the dustbin, so to speak.
I know. But youāve got to. You canāt be swayed by how much you spent on something. Thatās such a recording lesson. If you pay for a player, pay for studio time, or an arrangement, if you donāt like it, you have to feel free to get rid of it. Youāve gotta get past that.
Nadia Reidās album, Out of My Province , which you co-produced with Trey, is a completely different world from Lonnieās record.
Yeah! Definitely. Nadiaās great. It was special to have her over here. We did that record the week before I started recording my new record. We ended on a Friday, and the next Monday I started K Bay . That record has Treyās fingerprints all over it. I was there, and I was involved, but Trey was running the show. Some of the decisions are Trey-style decisions. Not that I wasnāt present or involved. Because we were starting K Bay the next week, it was fun to be there and help make decisions and move things along. But, in terms of the prep for that record, that was Treyās work for sure.
Is it handy to be able to be that fresh ear?
I think so. Hopefully for her sake it was helpful! Itās not too often where I am in that position. That was unique. Sheās extra special. She was one of those artists where Iād have a certain expectation of maybe what theyāre going to be like, or how theyāre going to approach things, and then we got into it and it was significantly different than I was expecting. Not in a better or worse way. Itās like the rhythm of this was pretty unique. I learned a lot from being around her, about how she approaches things, which is not down the middle at all. There are a handful of tunes on that record that are just the scratch vocal. Sheās an incredible vocalist. Some peopleās vocals, with the way you can comp stuff now, itās hard to tell who can sing and who canāt really sing. But with her, it was pretty jaw-dropping, vocally.
I know youāve mixed with my pal Pat Dillett [ Tape Op #79 ] a bit.
Oh, yeah. I love Pat. He mixed the second record I did [ Fresh Blood ].
How did that come about?
The first record [ Big Inner ] was such an odd recording experience and was mixed by Karl Blau, which was great. You canāt beat Karl; heās incredible. But when I made the second record, the label was like, āWould you mind if we got a more traditional engineer to mix it?ā If youāre reading this, Karl is incredible, but heās about as eccentric as you can get in terms of his approach to mixing and recording. Itās magic, but itās definitely left-of-center.
Yeah, there are tracks that are a little out of phase but so interesting on your first record.
Itās crazy and itās great. When I listen to that record, Iām like, āI cannot believe that this launched a career.ā But itās also magic. Iād never be able to get it again. Karl had a lot to do with that. When I was a beginner, I didnāt have a record label. Karl mixed it, because he was the one there engineering it. We mixed it at his friendās house. Now the label wanted to pay for a mixing engineer. A professional, credited, known engineer. Iād never had the budget to do that before. I didnāt know anything about that world of mixing engineers. Domino Records had a budget. Patās name came up and I looked at the credits. I loved that he had worked on a lot of OG hip-hop in New York. That was a big draw for me. He had just mixed a record with a lot of strings on it. It was the fact that he had dealt with lo-fi, low-end recordings and then also orchestral. People will absolutely do garbage mixes of orchestral music if youāre not careful. From a panning point of view and compression, it gets bad fast if people donāt have some experience. I went up to New York and sat on his couch for a couple of weeks. Mixed a song a day. It was great. Heās a pleasant guy to be around, and I like what he did with the record. It was a good experience.
With work these days, whoās doing engineering and mixing?
Adrian Olsen, who owns Montrose Recording, does all of that. Adrian was an important collaborator for the record. By no means am I a producer/engineer type of guy. I am aware of the sounds, and there are certain sounds that Iām going for. But Adrian connects the dots for me, for sure. We have long conversations about the approach, conceptual sound design, and what weāre looking for. Heās as important a collaborator as anyone on the record in terms of getting the sound, and on that Lonnie record too. The first time I worked with him was when Flo Morrissey and I did the duets record [ Gentlewoman, Ruby Man ].
<div class="captxt" style="background-color: #fff !important; color: #000 !important; text-align: center !important;"><em class="fa fa-camera"></em> Cameron Lewis</div>
That recordās cool.
That was the first time Iād ever recorded at Montrose and the first time Iād ever used Adrian. The Spacebomb team is really good, but weāve never had an āengineer.ā On Big Inner and Natalie Prassā first record, itās all us. We know what we like, we have good taste, and we know enough to not do certain things. But I would say those early Spacebomb records lucked into success, from an engineering front. You can listen to Natalieās first record [ Natalie Prass ] and then listen to her second record [ The Future and the Past ]. Oneās recorded by me in Spacebombās attic, and one was recorded by Adrian at Montrose. I produced both of them. Thereās a night-and-day difference to how they hit. That has everything to do with Adrian. Heās got an old Flickinger console we used the shit out of. Not that itās always about the gear, but sometimes it is! His studioās stacked, man. Itās good shit and a good vibe. He mixed the new record too. Weāre getting great results. When I say I want thumpy, tubby, close-micād drums, heās like, āOkay, I get it!ā He knows what that means. I donāt have to play a thousand examples. We just did a record for this band Gently Tender in Wales at Rockfield Studios.
I just reviewed the documentary [ Rockfield: The Studio on the Farm, Tape Op #144 ].
That was the first time weād traveled together to do something. That was really fun.
Are you getting hammered with requests to produce people at this point in time? Do you have to be selective?
I feel it goes in waves with the records. I havenāt released a record of mine in five years. Right after each record I get waves of requests, and then it tails off a little bit. The best work that I do is my records and Natalieās records. Natalie and I go back so far; we grew up in Virginia Beach together. When I put a record out, thatās the best version of me, currently where I am. It tends to attract people, and then thereās a feedback loop from that. Like the farther from my records it gets, the more that I get people who are coming to me for things that are farther and farther from what I am good at. I donāt necessarily end up making the best thing that I can make. As a producer, Iām a better match for some people than others. Thereās no way around that. Iām the best match for myself. When Iām making the records, I have to turn down work. I canāt do both.
Yeah. You canāt be making your own record, jump into someone elseās for a week, and then back into yours.
Writing songs is not natural for me. I really enjoy it, but itās like going to war a little bit with myself. Psychologically itās hard. Obviously, Iām digging into myself; but also itās not easy. Production is way more natural. I can walk into the room tomorrow and do a pretty good job at producing someoneās record, even if Iāve never heard anything before. I feel comfortable in that environment. But if I have to walk into a studio and record a song tomorrow that I wrote on the spot, it would be a dumpster fire. It would be trash. When Iām in the season of writing, I canāt do anything else.
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