Will Yip’s rise to fame is the stuff of legend. After digging for production credits on locally-produced hip-hop by Schoolly D and Fugees, he discovered that Studio 4’s Phil and Joe Nicolo (The Butcher Bros.) were behind some of his favorite music. So, he set his sights on Temple University and Phil’s production class, asked for an internship at Studio 4 on day one, and was suddenly touring the world with Lauryn Hill while also spearheading the punk renaissance of the mid 2010s. Through boundless enthusiasm and energetic records, Will Yip has become one of the most sought after producers of melodic hardcore, shoegaze bands, and what Pitchfork dubbed “new alternative music.” His work bursts with vibrant drums, impossibly large guitars, and, above all, great songs. A true second-generation immigrant, Will rose through the ranks of Studio 4 to become a co-owner of the operation. We met on a beautiful morning in Conshohocken, Pennsylvania, for a chat in front of Phil’s famous SSL console “with the brown knobs.”

What started your musical journey as an immigrant kid in North Philly?

When I was about seven or eight, my older brother played me Dr. Dre’s The Chronic and Nirvana’s In Utero. When I heard In Utero, something connected with me. It was the first thing I heard that had any essence of hardcore or punk. What caught my ears was this harshness and a vulnerability that I hadn’t heard from mainstream music. Soon, every time we’d go to Kmart I’d be bugging my mom for cassettes instead of toys and Nerf guns.

Is scouring cassette credits what led you to The Butcher Bros. and Studio 4?

Boyz II Men’s Cooleyhighharmony was the first tape I bought with my own money. I thought it was cool that they were from Philly. Looking over the credits, I saw “Studio 4, Conshohocken, PA.” and a year or so later Fugees’ The Score had the Butcher Bros. names all over it. Then it was on to Cypress Hill and Kriss Kross. They all kept popping up with Studio 4 credits. I was paying attention to other records too, but at that age if a record was cut in L.A. or somewhere, it might as well be on Mars. Coming from a lower income family in a row home in Northeast Philly, I never thought I would see L.A. in my life.

But it didn’t slow you down from pursuing music.

I had a rough time finding my place playing music. I started playing drums at ten, and dreamt of being a professional drummer, but my white friends at inner city schools wanted to look like Korn and the nu metal bands on TRL [Total Request Live], and I was a nerdy Asian kid. When I was twelve, my friend Dylan and I saved $100 and booked ourselves in a studio. Seeing an engineer run a session and control the way the music was made; I knew that’s what I wanted to do. The studio was expanding, and I offered to work for free, even clean toilets, and they said I could run the rehearsal rooms for $5 an hour. This was awesome! Eventually, they sold me a mixer and helped install at my parents’ house. I didn’t realize it then, but I’ve always had an entrepreneurial way of looking at situations, and that was really the start of my “production business.”

You saw a path forward as an engineer!

I could see myself making a living from this. “I can be an engineer.” I set up a little studio in my mom’s basement, and even though she didn’t love it, she was very supportive. The first time I charged a band I was 16. I charged them $8 an hour.

Isn’t that a lucky number?

[laughs] Yes, it’s a lucky number in Chinese. Other local start up studios were charging $15 an hour, so it was, “I’ll charge half.” Again, it was my entrepreneurial spirit to invite bands I was booking at the rehearsal studio to record. Bands I loved, like Blacklisted, would come to the basement to record, and it taught me to push guys to play. To hit hard and sing hard. I got obsessed with studios and gear. I bought my first API 512 [preamp] for around $500.

In high school?

Yeah. From that point on I wanted to be an engineer and a producer, and my dream was to work at Studio 4. I’d ask myself, “What are the baby steps to get there?” There was an alternative radio station in South Philly [Y100], with a huge space where they recorded live sessions. I saved up $1000 to book a mastering session there, which was a TON of money. When the engineer pulled up the session, he couldn’t believe that I had tracked it in a 13 x 13 tiled basement. The owner, Mike Comstock, heard that I was the “the hot shot kid,” and had me assist him at the Electric Factory [venue] that night. It was my first professional gig. The band, The Fray, sound checked with the song “How to Save a Life.” I was like, “This is gonna be the biggest thing in the world.” And a month later, it was the biggest thing in the world.

It sounds like this dovetails into your decision to attend Temple University to meet Phil Nicolo.

Phil Nicolo teaching at Temple was the only reason I went there. I wanted a way into Studio 4. So, the second semester of my freshman year I took Phil’s course and there was a long line at the of end class to talk to him. I wanted to make the final impression. I had The Fray record in my hand, and he said, “We have an open-door policy. Just come.” I didn’t know what that meant. Do I just actually just show up? That first day they were mixing a Brazilian band, and I stood at that door [points] for three hours, because I didn’t think I deserved to sit. I stayed with them until 1 a.m., absorbing it all, and I thought, “Keep showing up and take out the trash.” I’ve shown up every day since. It was a long journey, but I kind of willed it to happen and I’m grateful. I want aspiring kids to know that: When you’re given the opportunity, show up. I had just gotten these Neumann TLM 103 mics; I suggested we used them for overhead mics. The band Keane, who were huge at that point, came in, and Phil needed an extra set of overheads, so he called me. It made me an asset to him, by being there and supporting him however I could.

Did this lead to your involvement with the Lauryn Hill comeback sessions?

She was planning her comeback in ‘08 and ‘09, and wanted to use her same team, The Butcher Bros. To this day, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill is probably my favorite record of all time. The day she finally arrived, at 9:30 p.m., was the only time I’ve ever been starstruck. We did a few sessions here until she decided to buy a new house and build a studio in it. Phil and I toured a bunch of houses with her, with drums and a PA in tow, and that’s how she discovered I was a drummer. I got to play on some recordings and fill in for some shows; it was an honor. I built Lauryn’s home studio and started touring the world as a senior in college. She likes to keep her team tight and asked if Phil and I would come on tour to do front of house sound, which I had never done.

Talk about being thrown into the fire!

There were three of us in charge of the teleprompter, stage monitors, and front of house. Monitors and teleprompter sucked, because she could see and hear it. [laughs] The three of us would change jobs every day, and I was also tour managing the band. Great people, all professionals, but tour managing when I was 21 was crazy. Although, at that point, I felt I could work for anyone. Questlove, Prince, Jay-Z, and Beyonce all came to see and hang with Lauryn, and it was just normal. I got to see how these pros work. I was heavily touring from ‘09-’12 and losing too much time away from the studio. I love creating music and being somewhere where I can create new music every day. So, I respectfully told her that the second she wants me back in the studio I would be there. She respected that, and we still keep in touch. She still sends me songs to mix.

Once you committed full time to Studio 4, the local scene really took off.

Blacklisted recorded No One Deserves to be Here More Than Me here with me, and that was a huge break. They were working with the hottest hardcore producer in the world at the time, and I was just a 20 year old kid. I couldn’t even drink yet. The band Title Fight was also making a huge buzz, and everyone was saying, “There’s this dude Will that works with Lauryn Hill who will record hardcore bands in this crazy studio outside Philly.”

You recorded Title Fight’s Shed here with Walter Schreifels [Quicksand, Gorilla Biscuits] producing?

It was a dream team, and I was grateful to work with a legend like that. For their follow up, Floral Green, the band asked me to produce on my own and that record changed my life. It opened up a lot of doors and brought this grungy thing back into punk. It was really melodic, and I finally felt like a producer. Turnover, Citizen, and all of these bands loved Title Fight, and that’s how they found me. They’ve all kept evolving, and those are the type of artists I’m attracted to. Bands like Code Orange and Turnstile constantly evolve. When I do a record, it’s not about coming to Studio 4 for the “Will Yip sound.” It’s about me joining your process. I’m going to be a member of the band and we’re going to do this together.

Did this success lead to you becoming a partner in Studio 4?

While the studio was being renovated, I was making punk records, because I didn’t care that the floor wasn’t put in or that all the trim wasn’t done. I had a Neve 8048 [console] in a great-sounding room, so I thought, “What if I offered to buy into the studio somehow?” I wanted to be able to offer this experience to bands that couldn’t usually afford it. Phil knew that I was a hard worker, and that I would keep the legacy going. He suggested I buy half the studio for something around a quarter million dollars. I felt like I could do it because of the work I was getting. I’d eat ramen noodles every night if I had to. To help fundraise, I put a compilation out [Off The Board: A Studio 4 Family Compilation] with nearly 20 of the bands I work with. We recorded all new songs. I realized there was a community of musicians that had my back. I’m forever grateful.

Turnover “Dizzy on the Comedown” from Peripheral Vision When these Virginia pop punkers sent Will demos for their 2015 LP, he found their old distorted Les Paul tones “inappropriate” for their ‘80s-inspired redirection. Stumbling across a Roland Jazz Chorus amp for $375, they centered their revamped sound around acoustic accents and the Roland’s famous clean tone. “Dizzy on the Comedown” also showcases the wide dynamic range of Will’s production, saving a huge sound for the song’s soaring chorus.   Song on Spotify Title Fight “Leaf” from Floral Green Will’s first solo production credit with Title Fight explodes with the energy of guitarist Jamie Rhoden’s Les Paul straight into a Marshall JCM800. Bursts of feedback from a Z-Vox Fuzz Factory appear throughout the record, like the twisted sonar blast setting up the chorus at 1:21 here. “I loved that they wanted the record to reflect their live sound. Let’s keep pushing it!”   Song on Spotify Wicca Phase Springs Eternal “I Need Help” from Suffer On Opening with an intimate acoustic guitar and doubled vocal, the drums enter on the second verse with a jazzy rim shot driven groove, giving an almost emo lounge feel. By the track’s midpoint, a filtered trap beat enters with tuned [Roland TR-]808 kicks and woozy pads, with acoustic foundation intact. Suffer On is a bold move outside of the notion of a “signature Studio 4 sound.   Song on Spotify Code Orange “Underneath” from Underneath These Pittsburgh metalcore heroes continued to push themselves to the brink with the experimental Underneath. The title track is your everyday mix of darkly anthemic choruses, industrial beats, glitch effects, and a pit destroying full band stomp at 2:36. If ever a project needed an executive producer, this is it!   Song on Spotify Turnstile “Real Thing” from Time and Space Turnstile ramped up the alternative in their core with this 2013 release. Massive grooves dominate, driven by propulsive drummer Daniel Fang. Upon hearing demos for the Mike Elizondo [Tape Op #144]-produced Glow On, Yip was blown away by Fang’s precision and technique. Fang’s reply: “That’s all from working with you at Studio 4!”   Song on Spotify

I agree there’s no particular “Will Yip sound,” but your records almost always feature such spacious and hard hitting drums. Any secret to that?

I’ve been making hip-hop beats since I was a kid, and I’m used to hearing processed samples. In hip-hop, everything had this punch, and I wanted my drums in live music to smack like that. I’m very particular about every angle of how you hit the snare to the tuning. You don’t have to do the same thing every time, but just know what you’re doing. I’ve been starting to track shells and cymbals separately [in separate passes] every now and then, so the sounds are more malleable. I can compress the shells like hip-hop samples, and there aren’t unneeded cymbal frequencies. If you don’t get enough impact on your rock records on drums, it’s not gonna be competitive.

How do you make separately-tracked drums sound natural?

The most important thing is that I need a drummer’s ear to track drums like this. When I’m capturing it, I know guys do ghost notes that they might not do if they’re not playing high hats, but we still need these ghost notes. So, we have to plan for it and be deliberate in getting everything we need, as if it was a whole performance. What’s great is when they do it separately, we can really evaluate what we’re doing. When broken down to separate percussion parts, it’s actually more melodic. It needs to be captured and edited in a way that a drummer would do it naturally. I’m proud of the results I’ve gotten. People can dunk on it all they want, but no one listened to the new Nothing record [The Great Dismal] and thought that the drums sounded unnatural.

On the other side of the coin, your production on Suffer On by Wicca Phase Springs Eternal features a gorgeous palette of acoustic guitars. It’s like Leonard Cohen with trap beats.

I love that record. Adam [McIlwee] is brilliant, and always writes with natural dynamics of storytelling. He wanted it to have beats, but also be acoustic-centric. “We’re going to make it bang, but also sound earthy, real, and dark.” When I compose, I’m writing on acoustic guitar. I love layering acoustic, especially on bigger-sounding records I’ve done with Superheaven, Citizen, or even The Menzingers. Layering a little underneath gives this attack. It’s almost the same frequency that you’d get from percussion that adds extra life, this extra dimension.

With such a demanding recording schedule are you able to mix off site?

We’re booked here at Studio 4 every day from 10 to 8, so if I mixed here, I’d never see my wife. I have a full mixing setup at home with the same monitors I use here, the Focal Trio 6s, which I love, and I can’t not work on. It took me forever to find nearfield [monitors] that I didn’t need a subwoofer with, and I’m really comfortable with the low end on these. For summing, I use the Rupert Neve Designs 5059 [Satellite] with inserts, because it gives me such solid recall. Some of these bands have insanely good ears and can detect if something’s shifted by a tenth of a dB. I have a series of outboard gear that I mix in the box toward and don’t ever touch. I’ll have my harsh vocal chain, delicate vocal, up to 16 chains out the box that I mix towards. I’ve also had everything modded to be notched. Some of these old EQs will move levels if you even blink at them, so I had my tech put stepped pots in all of my 2 mix chain [outboard gear]. I love my old Manley Variable Mu [compressor], which is serial number 66, but, due to the variance, we managed to notch that up too. It wasn’t cheap, but it’s worth it!

Speaking of Rupert Neve Designs, you’ve developed a working relationship with them, as well as Fender guitars and many other companies.

When I first came to Studio 4 and heard live tracks coming through 32 channels of 1081s in the Neve 8048, it was the “Neve” sound I had been hearing all my life. Fast forward 20 years, and I’ve probably spent more hours on an 80s series Neve than anyone! [laughs] Once I linked up with Rupert Neve Designs, I used their Shelford channel strips and 511 mic preamps. I found them to have all the juice and vibe of “old Neve,” but with modern transparency and functionality. As for Fender, they were the guitars I was obsessed with as a kid, and Jason Klein there has supported me more than just about anyone in the business. He’s my guitar tone “consultant.” My custom shop ‘59 Strat and Telecaster Deluxe are my go-to for writing and tracking.

What about these lovely Blackwood drum kits in the live room?

I’ve chased the perfect drums my entire life and always fell short until I met Blackwood. The seamless aluminum kit is a lighter metal and still gives the dynamics and responsiveness of a wood shell, but it has extra crack and attack. In 2020 I became a part owner, and we’ve been working on many cool projects, including my signature snare which is a seamless 14-inch by 7-inch aluminum shell with some extra tricks!

You earned Grammy nods for your co-production work on Code Orange’s Forever and Underneath. How was it collaborating with Kurt Ballou [Tape Op #87] and Nick Raskulinecz [#50] on those albums?

With these Code records, I tried viewing it more like an executive producer. I’ll do whatever the record calls for. On Forever, they were looking for a brutal drum and bass foundation. That’s Kurt’s thing, and he’s going to nail it. Then I’ll get the songs, and we do our thing from there. It worked very well. I’m a control freak, in the sense that I want to be able to see the vision and know that this other producer can add to that vision and help us fulfill it. For the next record [Underneath], we demoed the whole thing together. But they’re on a major label at this point, Warner Bros., and the whole team thought working with Nick would be cool. “You want that? I fully support their decision.” Nick is awesome and so creative, and I finished the final bits of tracking and all of the mixing. There are different paths to the end, and everyone can be right in their own way.

What’s inspired you to launch your record label, Memory Music?

Honestly, my vision is the same it’s always been: To help support and invest in great artists. I feel aspiring producers should hear this: Your favorite household name producers, even in niche punk or hip-hop communities, they get a name because they’re tastemakers. They came up at the same time with a particular scene or artists, so it felt like they were a part of it. But you can’t be doing records for $1000 dollars your entire life. Those early records that I did with some of my career-defining bands, I was getting paid $2000 to work for eight weeks. It’s not sustainable. So, you start chasing bigger budget records. I have a mortgage to pay, but I need to still be working with new bands on their first or second record, to develop it with them because that’s what keeps me going. It keeps the work fresh. I listen to new music so I can share that common knowledge with artists. Bands come to me all the time, saying something you wouldn’t expect. When Travis Scott first started popping off, Jami Morgan [Code Orange] said he wanted their drums and ear candy to smack like Rodeo. I’m like, “You bet. We got it!”

One last thing: Tell me about creating the entrance song [“I Fell”] for Darby Allin of All Elite Wrestling.

Adam McIlwee, of Wicca Phase Springs Eternal, is a huge wrestling fan and friend of Darby’s, and he reached out to me for help. His demo was much slower and acoustic. It was a Saturday, on my day off, but Adam gave me the keys as producer, and I started working on that drumbeat. Every wrestling theme needs something for people to clap along to, so I laid down that classic “four on the floor” beat. We tracked it quick, Adam killed it, Darby loved it, and it’s one of AEW’s most popular songs. Right around that time, I also got the opportunity to track a song for World Wrestling Entertainment’s Shinsuke Nakamura. He had recently turned heel, and we did a hardcore rap version of his theme with an all Asian band at Quad Studios in New York. It was crazy!

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Sam Retzer is a composer and aspiring drummer in Brooklyn, NY.