Brad Cook: No Gatekeeping

Brad Cook has been making and recording music since he was a kid growing up in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Throughout his 20-plus year career, he's toured with people like Sharon Van Etten and produced records by Bon Iver, Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats, Hiss Golden Messenger, Waxahatchee, Whitney, Hurray for the Riff Raff, Ani DiFranco [ Tape Op #12 ], and Snail Mail. This year sees the release of DeYarmond Edison's box set, Epoch , the band Brad was in with his brother Phil, Joe Westerlund, and Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon in 2005 and 2006. We had a chance to sit down with him at his Durham, North Carolina, studio, to talk about his early days in audio production, why he hates touring, and how to keep artists comfortable in the studio.

In your projects, you don't have one job. You're not just the bass guy or the horns guy. Why do you enlist the help of others for a job that you could easily do yourself?

A number of things. One, I work with a wide range of artists that come to me with a wide range of needs. I fell into this job accidentally; I didn't pursue being a producer. It was a job that somebody asked me to do, and people continue to ask me to do. I find that it changes all the time with what people need, and there are some records I work on where I might want the actual sound, style, or performance of another musician. I might be more curious to hear what they have to offer. I've been doing this long enough where I know what I would do, but my curiosity is going to always outweigh my ego. I don't believe that there's a finite way to accomplish anything. A good song can live in a lot of different ways. I'm not as fast of an engineer as I'd like to be, though I understand it. I do engineer records still. Especially in the last couple years, I've found myself attracted to parts of engineering, but I can always move faster when I have someone dedicated to that position. I feel we're able to flow better as a team when I'm not trying to do everything; I don't feel that produces the best result all the time. That's the root of it. I love community, I love having a team of people floating around. I want the right energy in the room as often as possible.

How do you define the role of a producer?

Mostly, I see it as a functional role; hopefully to provide perspective to the artist. Sometimes that can be a real musical task, like helping someone find their sound, or a sound in general. Other times there are records I make where I don’t touch an instrument. I sit in the room the whole time and have conversations with the artist, but they know what they want. They need to be able to have a conversation with someone and check their gut. Whether they think they’re right, or they think they're wrong, they need something to go up against. I don't see it as a power role; I don't think the producer knows more than the artist. I rarely feel like it's anything other than, "How can I help provide the resource that you need to do what you're trying to do as an artist?"

When you started out, was it like that too? Or did you have to come to that conclusion over time?

I arrived at that conclusion. I had played in bands for a long time. I had my own band, for a long time, that I was one of the main songwriters and singers for. Eventually, I decided that I was ready to not take up that space [anymore]. Probably ten-plus years ago now, I started to feel a little bit embarrassed being on a stage and taking up space as another white dude singing songs. I felt like I could do anything else but that . I took a break from music and eventually I started [producing]. My brother [Phil Cook] asked me to produce his first solo record, [ Southland Mission ]. Another friend of mine asked me to produce a record. I don't know why that started happening, but once it started happening it was so natural. I never asked anybody to [let me produce], I would just get asked. Each project would be so different that I would find myself grateful that I'd played a lot of these roles before. I've been a session player with great musicians in the room. I also know what it's like to share your songs with people for the first time. I did that for a long time, too. It fell into my lap, and it became something that defined itself over time.

Can you describe your first time in the producer's chair?

Well, for starters, I brought an engineer with me who I had already worked on a lot of records with. Because I came into the studio and production through playing and arrangement, I didn't have the confidence to do any of the actual engineering on someone else's thing. My brother and I had engineered our own records before that, but, right off the bat, I knew that if I was going to do this that I needed help. I wanted to free up as much bandwidth as possible to stay as objective as possible. That's been at the core of how I’ve operated since. I appreciate objectivity when it comes to this. For me, if I start worrying about something in Pro Tools, or if something doesn't go right, it can kick me out of the headspace that I was in. If the song doesn't go right, and I have an engineer in the room that's dedicated to that job, they can take that stress on and I'm able to find another place to go with the artist. Whether we shift gears and start working on something new, go get lunch, or whatever it may be, I feel I'm free to work from a different headspace in those moments. It starts there, in terms of things that are necessary for me to do this job.

When I hear your work with Bon Iver, I'm reminded of a clip from Wilco's I Am Trying To Break Your Heart , where Jay Bennett [ Tape Op #41 ] says something like, "We're seeing how the song is supposed to sound and then deconstruct it a little bit." Is that intentional?

Yeah, sometimes. Justin [Vernon, Bon Iver], my brother, and I have been making music together since we were teenagers. That Wilco record documentary came out long before any Bon Iver record. We were still just kids living in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. I was a die-hard Jim O'Rourke [ Tape Op #16 ] fan when I was 19 years old. My entry point into Wilco was through Jim O'Rourke, and that's how I got into Wilco on Yankee Hotel Foxtrot . We were right at the perfect age to be given permission to deconstruct our songs, discover new form, and find ways to make music free of, and about, the process . I credit that whole Wilco story as being something that was exciting for a lot of people of a generation. Seeing how they made that record and [questions like] "What is a song?" There are so many allegiances that were taken down when they made that record: allegiance to genre and form, for example. It was freeing for a lot of us. I remember one weekend where Justin Vernon, Chris [Messina], and BJ Burton [ #137 ] figured out what is now referred to as "The Messina," where he was able to reharmonize anything via a MIDI keyboard. One of the first experiments was on [Bon Iver's] 22, A Million , [on the song] "__45__," I believe. That was such a mind-bending moment for all of us, but, for me, as a listener, that was one of the most satisfying things I'd ever heard. It was so new to me to hear a sax manipulated that way. The way Justin's bone-dry vocal sits over it, made me feel that it was such a brave statement [to] leave it hanging on the experiment. I think that's a powerful statement, in and of itself.

Can you describe The Messina in a little more detail?

I think so. Chris Messina, who's Justin's main day-to-day engineer, figured out a routing that allowed a tonic to be sent to the Eventide H9000 (or maybe the H8000) and then a MIDI keyboard would work as a gate. Depending on what voicings Justin played, that's what would gate the information. So, when it came to reharmonizing, it wasn't parallel harmonies anymore. At that point in time, when someone did any kind of harmony device, it was parallel harmonies the whole time. As far as I'm aware, that was the first time I'd ever heard someone be able to manipulate the actual harmony around it and create whatever they wanted to hear. On "__45__" in particular, it's so powerful to me; not only because of the voicings Justin's playing, but the actual sax is able to maintain its sonic integrity because it's still a dry signal. You know what I mean? There are people who just sing with [Antares] Auto-Tune on because the actual turning on of the plug-in has a certain sound to it. With [The Messina], I felt, as a listener, it was very different because I didn't lose the best parts of the human voice, or the actual instrument that's being manipulated. The umami of a particular voice. It's able to work in this exciting way together. This would have been 2014, so eight years ago that was a wild thing to hear relative to where things are at today. You can do this easily with Antares Harmony Engine now.

Did you go to college for music?

No, I went to college for special education, but we moved to North Carolina before I graduated. Eight of us moved at once. That was 2005. Then, our band [DeYarmond Edison] broke up after being here for a year. That's when Justin started Bon Iver, and my brother and I started a band called Megafaun. Megafaun made four records, all in North Carolina. We toured like crazy. We toured in Europe a shitload. We had much more success in Europe than we did in the U.S. I met BJ Burton during that point in time. He moved in with me and ended up doing the last two Megafaun records. He had a big impact on the way I work. I can't stress enough how much he elevated all of us, in terms of how to approach studio recording. He was young, probably 21 at the time, and was already bored with the way everyone was doing it. Megafaun was a perfect band for him, because we didn't have any allegiance to anything . We just wanted to make exciting music for ourselves.

What did he show you?

It was really his approach. He was just fearless about it. We took him to Justin's studio to make the last Megafaun record. A lot of our friends in Minneapolis – Justin included – were so blown away. Everyone there had kinda been doing it one way for a long time, the way we all learned. I think BJ was the first one that came through and was using every plug-in in a totally different way and compressors in a totally different way. He was already really bored with how most people were making music and recording it. A desire to push the envelope was built into his workflow. It instantly made the studio more exciting, as a creative tool, for everybody. It was less of a, "Let's go to the studio and capture what we've done," to, "Let's go to the studio. We've got enough to go off of; let's see what happens." I think that was where it really began for all of us. Don't be scared of the studio, the studio is awesome. It's as malleable and fun as any other part of [the creative process]. You're not going to break anything! BJ made me rethink being on the road as well. I didn't even like touring. I like making stuff. I took a year off from music from 2012 to 2013… and then starting with my brother's record, [producing] just started happening. I did one last tour with Sharon Van Etten. I toured with her for a year in 2014, and I realized then, even when I was in somebody else's band, that I was ready to be done touring.

Right. You can't do much besides playing a show when you're on tour.

Yeah, and you're playing the same thing. I'm not that much of a showbusiness guy, so playing the same songs every night doesn't feel creative to me. Some people get off on that exchange, but it was an "ah-ha!" moment for me. I'd rather play music all day and sleep in my own bed than drive all day, play music for an hour, and sleep in a weird place.

Do you have any favorite studios?

Yeah, I do. I love Sonic Ranch in Texas [ Tape Op #94 ]. I've probably done eight records there. That's the one destination studio I really love. I go there once or twice a year to make records.

Can you tell me about your studio?

It occupies a residential home. It used to be located in an outbuilding in the backyard when my wife and I lived there. Last year, my wife and I moved out of the house, we moved the whole studio into it, and my brother took over the outbuilding for his studio. Most projects I've done in the last two years have been done here, and it's more of a full-on situation now. My neighbor, Matt [McCaughan], plays drums in Bon Iver and in a bunch of bands, so I have an awesome drummer one house away.

What about gear?

It's all Universal Audio. I made the choice that I wanted it to feel clean, simple, and efficient. I don't have a lot of outboard gear. I have a [Sequential] Prophet 6, Moog 1, [Roland] Juno-106, a lot of drum machines, tons of different guitars, basses, and a lot of functional gear on the front end. Because there are a lot of different engineers that come through here, at some point in time we use almost every DAW. I have a lot of plug-ins because I feel I get a lot of younger artists that are not as concerned with the studio gear. They like the house because it's relaxing and chill, but we also have enough gear in here to make proper-sounding records. Nothing crazy in the mic department; a pair of Coles [4038], [AKG] 414s, and an assortment of other mics. The [Shure] SM7 gets used a lot. Basic, functional, unintimidating gear.

That's by design? Do you want to keep it simple?

It is. I've seen enough people freeze in front of an expensive mic, and I've seen enough people lay down iconic performances on an SM7 to feel… if a person's a great singer, they sound great on every mic. One thing is that every single thing in my studio is mic'd and live all the time. All the synths or stereo channels are running all the time. When I turn on Pro Tools, I have 34 channels ready to go that are considered and thoughtful, and generally I have the chain put together. When someone shows up at the studio, there's never going to be a day to get drum sounds. That doesn't happen around here. We have a sick drum kit, and if we need to change it, it goes very quickly. Somebody could walk in here and be recording within 30 minutes of them arriving, with a full band. I've been in sessions with big producers in a real studio that are two days long, and we spent the whole first day getting drum sounds. "What are we doing?" People care about the drums, but it's not the human voice. I don't know why we don't spend four hours on that first, and then deal with what the drums are doing. But, so often, it doesn't happen that way. I felt that was something I saw take a lot of steam out of situations. [My studio] is efficient and functional by design. This is a studio where people can sit at the desk and play with any of the presets, any of the plug-ins. With [Universal Audio] UAD we've got the Console application, so if they want to learn how a signal chain works, do it there. They can start with a preset for a [Universal Audio] LA-2A [plug-in] and see what it sounds like. They can start to train their ears in a way that's so much more inviting. If they see that real LA-2A in a studio, they may not necessarily know where to begin if they don't have the background yet. I like that part of modern recording. I know a lot of badass engineers that hit presets on that shit. Everybody does. There's a reason everybody does. It shouldn't be a gatekeeping scenario. [People] should know that this is available for everybody. The more they're able to articulate what it is they're looking for, the better.

Right. They're going to be happier with the record, and more inspired.

Yeah. Not everyone cares, but for those that do, I want to make a space where people can discover, learn, and reinforce their curiosity, so [the artist] doesn't feel they have to have a college degree to work a Pultec [EQ]. It's not like that.

What exciting projects are on the horizon?

I'm excited about this Plains record [ I Walked With You A Ways ]. That's a record with Katie Crutchfield [Waxahatchee] and Jess Williamson. Spencer Tweedy [ Tape Op #132 ] plays drums and my brother plays a bunch of instruments. It's a great record.

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