[ image 154-vandenberg-hero-vert type=center ]Drew Vandenberg talked his way into interning at the iconic Athens, Georgia, 40 Watt Club and the legendary Chase Park Transduction studio [Tape Op #14] by the time he was 16 years old. Today, he’s a sought-after producer and engineer, working with such artists as Faye Webster, Of Montreal, Kishi Bashi, and SG Goodman. Notably, this year, he produced Webster’s astounding Car Therapy Sessions, a live recording with a 26-piece orchestra. We caught up with him at Chase Park Transduction, where he spends most of his time these days.
Can you tell me a bit about the recording program you went to?
I went to Indiana University in Bloomington. They have a great recording arts department there. It’s really small, and they only accept 15 people a year. It was scary and crazy trying to get into that coming from out of state. The way it was then was you'd do one semester of music theory, an electronics class, and a basics of recording course. Depending on the grades and your interview performance, that’s how you'd get into the program. One could waste an entire semester without getting in, and the "weed out" classes had about 200 people in them. I’m looking around, thinking, "How am I going to do this?" But that first semester at IU I got 100% on almost everything I did. I wanted to get into the program. I was sure that’s what I wanted to do. There was no way I was going back to Georgia.
Did you have an electronics background going in, or were you going in more from the artistic side?
I think it was both. I was a musician first, as a kid, then I found out that a recording engineer was a job from reading it in the liner notes of a CD when I was 14 or 15. I went and looked it up on whatever my dial-up [internet] was, because this was probably in the year 2000. I looked up what the job of “recording engineer” was, and thought, "Oh my god, that’s what I want to do for the rest of my life." I was into music, but I was not a great musician. I didn’t have the patience, or the passion to practice. For people who are incredible musicians, practicing doesn’t feel like a slog. All of my friends who are great songwriters or musicians, they can sit down and play for an hour and it’s fun. When I was taking piano lessons, I couldn’t concentrate long enough; I was always looking towards the next thing.
That’s interesting, because recording can often be such a slog.
I know. It’s a weird, ironic thing – it does get sloggy – but I can Zen out doing that. I never felt that way playing on my own. Another thing that drew me to this, over being a musician, is that I’m 100% into the social aspect of music making. Band practice is fun and playing shows is fun, but I’m never going to put in the time to become exceptional on my own because I found that incredibly boring. But, as far as electronics go, when I was a kid, I loved to take things apart. I would take apart old TVs, which I found out was fairly dangerous. One time I smashed the bulb that holds all the gas in it, and there was this huge plume of toxic gas in my parents' basement. I would also take apart old radios and cameras. I got that bug from my dad. He was always a big computer hobbyist, building his own PCs. I learned a lot about that very early.
Were your parents influential on your music appreciation?
We would listen to the oldies station, so I was listening to The Beatles, the Beach Boys, and Motown. My mom was also into keeping up with contemporary music, so she had Pearl Jam and Red Hot Chili Peppers CDs. They also listened to U2 and Talking Heads. I didn’t know anything about jazz or classical. They definitely weren’t listening to rap or hip-hop. Maybe a little R&B. I was lucky in that we weren’t just listening to new country or something. I was a nerdy, weird kid, and I had nerdy weird friends, so I found out about music a little past my age sometimes. Then I got addicted to MTV, and I got into R&B and hip-hop. I loved the BET video show 106 and Park, and I’d watch the countdown on TRL [Total Request Live] on MTV every afternoon after school.
You had a music obsession pretty early on.
Yeah. It’s funny, because my parents aren’t musical in any way. No one in my extended family is either. A lot of my family are psychologists, therapists, teachers, and social workers.
Well, being a music producer can often incorporate being a therapist.
Yeah, I definitely think I apply what I learned from my parents every single day in the studio. But, with my music obsession, when I was a kid, I would put on my headphones and listen to music constantly. The Talking Heads stuck with me. I remember in second grade they asked us to name compound words we knew, and for some reason I thought David Byrne [Tape Op #79] was saying “gramahawk” instead of “burning down the house.” I wrote it on the board and sang it. People were laughing at me, and it was really traumatic. But, later on, I willed it into existence. There’s a band from Athens called The Modern Skirts, and they couldn’t think of an album title; I told them this story late at night when we were mixing, and they were dying laughing, so they named the album Gramahawk. [laughter]
When did you first start experimenting with recording?
As soon as GarageBand came out for free on [Apple] Macs, me and my friends started making weird recordings, screwing around with Apple Loops. I never had an early cassette 4-track phase. I didn’t start getting into that until later. When I was 16, I got an internship with Velena Vego, who is the booking agent for the 40 Watt Club here in Athens. My job was to hang up posters and deal with tickets. In exchange for this, as long as I didn’t drink or do anything mischievous, she would let me go to the shows. I never did anything bad; I was just so overjoyed to be there. I saw The Flaming Lips, Bright Eyes, and Modest Mouse. I felt so lucky. But, after working there for a while, I realized what I wanted to do was to work in a recording studio. She said she knew David Barbe [Tape Op #14] who had a studio in town; everybody loved him. I started interning at David's Chase Park Transduction when I was a junior in high school. I played a little drums, bass, and keyboards, and I could read music, so David gave me a chance to come and observe, make coffee, and get lunch. I was still in high school, so I wasn’t there a lot, but I went when I could for the next two years. That was when I met the Drive By Truckers; I interned on one of their records. I learned a ton from David, and I supplemented that by reading [David Miles Huber's] book, Modern Recording Techniques. I’d read Sweetwater catalogues and think about the kind of studio I’d want in my basement. I tried to make a vocal booth in my mom’s basement, and I experimented a bit. But I skipped a bunch of steps and went straight into this professional studio. When I went to school, I understood my way around the studio more than other people who were more DIY about it.
Was it your plan to get the degree and go back to work at Chase Park Transduction?
I didn’t know what I was going to do. I thought maybe I could intern somewhere else. But after my junior year, I came back and worked the whole summer as an intern and assistant engineer on the Drive By Truckers record, Brighter Than Creation's Dark. That’s when I got my first actual credit and was paid a little bit of money. I had my foot in the door, and David said I could come back and record bands there. I got integrated into the scene. I graduated in 2008, at the height of the recession, which was a terrible time to graduate, with a recording degree no less. The first couple years were rough. I’d never had had a job before, except fixing gear in the recording department in school.
Well, that’s a great skill to have!
Yeah, I’m a little rusty now because I’m so busy making records. In school there was so much hands-on experience. For instance, in one class we had to record 80 hours of live jazz and classical.
That experience probably helped out with your production on Faye Webster’s Car Therapy Sessions. [A live recording of Webster singing, accompanied by a 26-piece orchestra.]
Yeah. All those skills of learning to properly record different types of acoustic instruments in a classical setting was so helpful later on. If someone wants a cello on a session, a clarinet, flute, or piano – I’ve recorded those so many times. But for Car Therapy Sessions, we were working with a great conductor [Trey Pollard]. We wanted to do it live, for real, so it needed to sound beautiful as is. We hung a Decca tree [a three-mic setup conceived by Decca Records' employee Roy Wallace] up near the conductor. Decca would often use this setup to make these unbelievable orchestral recordings. I also used an omni spread on the sides, and a Blumlein figure-8 set up in the middle. We recorded this at Spacebomb [Richmond, Virginia]. It’s a big space, but it’s not massive like a concert hall. We knew we wanted to work with Trey. He had recorded some string arrangements on the Faye Webster record I produced, I Know I’m Funny Haha, and we liked the way it sounded. He had done all these great arrangements. He knows his studio so well and has a working relationship with a lot of the members of the Richmond Symphony and the surrounding area, so it made sense to do it there. We worked on the logistics of the mic placement layout together, based off of his normal setup. We also had another engineer who had worked with Trey a lot. We had this three-person team, which was great. Trey was conducting, and I could sit and take notes because I didn’t have to think about levels constantly. It was more like "old school" producing.
Was every song on the album a complete take, from start to finish?
We would do complete takes of the songs, but we could steal parts from other takes if needed. We did overdub a few percussion parts because the percussion player only had two arms. [laughter] There was some triangle and a couple of kettle drum hits we overdubbed. It’s one of the most amazing records I’ve gotten to be a part of in my whole life. I had chills the whole time. Trey’s arrangements are unbelievable.
You’ve worked with David Lowery a lot on Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker records, but I’m also curious about his solo acoustic records. Did he bring in 4-track tapes of home recordings and have you mix them? They sound intimate and raw, but also full and warm.
Lowery did those mostly at home, and then he would re-sing a lot of the vocals in the studio. His 4-track has this built-in mic that we would also use to blend in. It’s not an analog recorder, it’s a Tascam DP-008. He’s obsessed with it. They have two omni mics that are built into the front that sound cool. I’ve used them as drum room mics before. We would touch them up in the studio a bit, but often we wouldn’t need to, especially when he captured a mood or a moment. You know how that is, that’s a special thing that’s hard to recreate. David uses a lot of humor and wit to get his point across in his music, but this was different; it was so intimate, honest, and personal. We’ve worked on a ton of projects together.
With your career now, are you turning away a lot of work?
Yeah, I have so many projects coming to me that I can’t say yes to everything. I feel very lucky, and I don’t take it for granted. I only work on records that I think are going to sound interesting. A huge part of that is for the artist. I understand we all have to eat, and sometimes if you’re the owner of a studio – which I have never done myself – you have to keep the lights on so any band can record there. But being hired as a producer or a mixer, if I’m not into something, how am I going to do my best for them? Doing something just for the money is not fair to the artist.
Yeah, the artist would be better served by someone with less experience and know-how, but who is creative and deeply into the music.
Right. I listen to those hyper-technical metal records – I think that music is cool. It’s crazy the way they make those records; I could never do that. If they came to me right now and were an incredible Norwegian black metal band, I don’t think I would take that gig because it’s not fair to them.
Or, conversely, you could say, "Cool, but I don’t know how to do it the 'proper' way, so if you’re into it, we could do it with the methods I utilize, and it could put a whole new spin on it."
That’s true. However, I never want to underserve the artist. I tell them all the time, "What we’re here to do is make the best version of the record that you can make right now, in this moment. Figure out what’s in your heart and head in this moment, and get it recorded." That’s all that matters to me. I don’t care how we do it. I’ll never take a gig where I don’t feel I can do that. That’s my parameter.
How do you deal with the lower budgets in today’s recording climate?
I don’t mean this to be a hot take, but the fact that recording technology is so mobile has freed artists in a way that is unbelievable. I can send an artist home with a good microphone if we don’t get enough overdubs done, and they can come back to me with well-recorded background vocals that we didn’t get a chance to get to. That’s awesome. That’s not threatening my job. We can get back that thing we’re missing today with smaller budgets, which is time. We don’t get two months in the studio to make a record anymore, we get two weeks. But now, before we mix, I can send them home and they can keep recording and it will sound good. That’s amazing.
Do you work exclusively at Chase Park Transduction?
When I’m in Athens I do. Occasionally there will be someone who wants to record at home or at an alternate space. Like there’s this beautiful old church called The Portico that’s about 25 minutes in the country from where I am. I work a lot with the Athens band The Futurebirds, and we’ve worked out there. Back when we were starting out, their bass player, Brannen [Miles], and I both assisted on a Drive By Truckers album. When I had to go back to college, he got to assist on an R.E.M., record. I thought, "I have to go back to fucking school right now? This is my one chance!"
You don’t have a home studio?
No. I like separation of work and home. I need help with that already!
If you’re always mixing in a studio, do you mix with a lot of outboard gear?
Yes. I’m very hybrid. A lot of the gear I use, there are no plug-in emulations of. I’m into old broadcast compressors and limiters. I have a couple of CBS Audimaxes that are modded with this tech in upstate New York named Greg Snow. He works on all of Dave Fridmann's [Tape Op #17] gear. I’ve got four different variations of the CBS compressors, an old DuKane limiter, and a Shure SE30 that Greg modded for me. I love the sound of all that. You know that Australian company Echo Fix? They make souped up versions of [the Roland] Space Echo [EF-X2]. David [Barbe] and I both got one of those at the same time, and we were like, "Damn, there’s nothing like this."
Especially with an echo, it’s nice to have your fingers on the knobs while it’s happening.
Yeah, it’s so much more fun. I also have a Delta Labs Effectron. I love that delay. I’m huge into Eventide gear. I use the [Eventide] H3000 plug-in all the time, but I also have two actual H3000s that I modded the chipsets in to have all the presets from every version they made. But I’m really into oddball broadcast compressors and limiters. A lot of that old broadcast equipment is crazy overbuilt and sounds so good because they were meant to have full bandwidth music going through them. I can do crazy, grabby clean compression with them or change them into an insanely cool smash box if I want. Inovonics is another company of broadcast equipment that I like. Their Model 220 is cool.
Do you always mix through the console?
Sometimes I do projects where I need to mix in the box, like if I’m working with an artist remotely or during the pandemic. But yes, I work on a Sony MXP-3000. When Sony bought MCI, these were the last consoles they made. I also have a Roll Music Folcrom passive summing mixer that I use to sum back to the console. I do a ton of parallel compression.
And you make mix stems for recall?
Yeah.
What is your typical stem process?
It depends. Some labels have different deliverable standards. Some will want all drums, but then a kick and snare separate. Vocals wet and dry, backing vocals wet and dry. Sometimes I have a lot of stems. That part of the process is where I sometimes think, "Why do I still do it this way?" But I’m not excited to mix in the box. It’s not that I think it sounds bad; it just doesn’t feel fun. It feels like a slog.
Does it feel more clinical, and less performance-based?
Yeah, I want to grab something fast and make a change. I know it may not seem efficient, but the only thing that seems inefficient to me are the stems. The rest of it, I don’t think I move slow at all. I can get there faster.
Sure. You have your methods.
Yeah, I set up my console the same way every time. I know what aux is what, what bus is what. For instance, we have three plate reverbs here and two mono tube versions of the 140 here in Studio B, where I mix all the time. I feed those with a real Cooper Time Cube. That’s my pre-delay to the plates. That’s super unique, a one of a kind thing. What is cool about in the box mixing is the reliability; it will aways sound the same when I pull it up. But I also think something is lost in that. These CBS compressors don’t sound exactly the same, just like no two plate reverbs sound exactly the same.
Each one will even sound different, depending on the day.
Yeah, our plates definitely do. But those little, tiny touches of uniqueness, I believe, still make a difference. Now, I may be a grandpa shaking his fists at the sky, but I do believe they contribute to making something original. That’s super important. Even if that’s just a little extra 1%. When we’re all good at this, it’s easy to get to 80 to 90%, right? But it’s that last 10 to 20%; that’s the difference between everything. It’s easy to make something generically “good.” A kid with a laptop who is savvy can make something sound good quickly. But does that mean it’s unique and interesting? I try to hold myself up to a different standard than, “Does this sound good?” That’s not where the bar is for me.
Yeah. Furthermore, I’m sure some of your favorite recordings wouldn’t be considered “well recorded” but they created a unique sound.
Right. I don’t consider myself competing with making it sound good. That’s not even a difficult thing to do. The bar for recording quality is so high compared to what it used to be – it’s not even about that anymore. It’s only about, "Is this interesting? Does it sound cool?" It’s a given that it will sound good now. Sometimes I’ll be mixing a song for a random person, and I can tell that what they think sounds good is what they think it should sound like. They might ask if I used some specific technique because they heard about it on a podcast. "Well, why didn’t you do that? Aren’t you supposed to do that to snare drums?" It’s a bummer when they’re like, "This is the way, because that’s what Chris Lorde Alge said." Just make it sound awesome, like what’s in your head.
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