GGGarth Richardson

"Holy shit! This stuff is going to kill me!" states the mighty mortal Garth Richardson, (aka GGGarth), as an assistant brings him a late-night McDonald's snack during the last day of mixing for a project in Toronto, Canada. Up to that point, Garth was a complete enigma to me — all I knew was that he had produced perhaps modern rock's finest moment of all time, the 1992 debut from Rage Against The Machine, and that his father is the legendary Jack Richardson, the uber- venerable producer of The Guess Who, Bob Seger, Alice Cooper and Dickey Betts of the Allman Brothers Band.

GGGarth is the ultimate engineer and producer. He can handle a multitude of tasks at once with ease. Surrounded by technology, Garth's brain is ambidextrous. He can mix a loud powerful track at a very low volume, operate numerous tape machines, consoles and Pro Tools rigs, smoke a cigar, discuss matters with a handful of human beings and pay attention to a broadcast of the final game of the 2001 NHL Stanley Cup series while a raging party exists just outside the control room door in the studio lobby — all at once. Richardson is a technological and artistic madman genius at music production and is perhaps the nicest chap in the business, and the trademark bottle of Crown Royal whiskey is always perched nearby when a victory is reached. Nothing can stop GGGarth, not even bad food. He keeps the spirit of rock and pop thriving. He has put the successful growl into Kittie, the sweaty bounce into the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the thick sludge into the Melvins. And one might ask why is he called "GGGarth"? Well, he might have a bit of a stuttering situation going on, but I consider him the consummate producer/engineer — not only does he get bands to provide a handful of amazing multiple takes, he does as well. Garth, like his father, is a true living legend.

You got to where you are now not necessarily by nepotism, but by the traditional going up the ladder with hard work, except that you saw and heard some amazing things.

Yes. I used to clean my dad's studio [Nimbus Nine Sound Stage Studios] in downtown Toronto, and I used to go to school during the daytime and then I'd go down and clean and watch people make really wonderful records. The first Peter Gabriel solo record, Mark Farner, John Denver. I guess I kinda was the actual janitor and that's kind of how I got my start. And then when I was sixteen, the first session that I actually ever seconded on was Bob Seger's Night Moves. That was way back when.

And Bob Ezrin was around in those days.

Yeah. You see, my father used to play stand up bass. And Bob's father used to play stand up bass. And Bob's father left this one band and my dad took over his place. And when Bob was about seventeen or eighteen, he came knocking on my dad's door because he wanted to get into the rock and roll business. And Bob was actually hired to write charts. But what happened too was that Shep Gordon, who managed Alice Cooper, wanted my dad to record him. And my dad was like, "Some girl that's actually a guy? No way!", so they flew Bob down to New York and after he saw what it was about he told them, "We'll do it!" and my dad got pissed off and said, "Okay. If you think you are so shit-hot, we're gonna do this at the same time." And that is how Bob got his first break too. My dad and him did Love It To Death.

So you went up the ladder the traditional way — ending up as an assistant. I noticed you worked on tons of those 1980s metal and rock records.

Oh yeah... [laughs] Thanks a lot! Basically, I got a job at Phase One studios in Scarborough, which is part of Toronto, because my dad was working with some band and they were looking for someone to drive people around and I said I'd do it. And the two bosses there, Doug Hill and Paul Gross, asked me if I wanted to come and work there. And I had been there for two years and a German guy named Michael Wagener came in to do a band called Bright Rock and I was his second engineer. It was the first time Michael had ever been to Canada and he actually comes in the studio and he looked at me as some guy who couldn't talk properly, because you know, I actually do stutter, and he was so pissed off and thought, "What the hell am I doing here?" and in his German voice said, "Maybe I should just go home and get the hell out of here!" But then Michael and I became best buds. And after we had finished the record he left and he said, "Garth, I am going to bring you down to Los Angeles," and I said, "Sure, sure, sure Michael, great," and about six months later the phone rang and he said, "Listen Garth, can you hop on a plane?" So I went down and I helped him mix an Alice Cooper record. So my dad got to work with Cooper, and I actually got to work with Cooper. I think Constrictor was the actual record.

And you just stayed down there?

Yep. I went down there for six weeks and that turned into thirteen years. I never left and I basically used to keep my money in the freezer because I couldn't open up a bank account, and I had thousands of dollars hiding under my ice cube trays. It took me about three years to actually get a work visa. I became Michael Wagener's engineer and I worked on records like White Lion, Bonfire, and I even helped get the BulletBoys their start. My first big break was getting to record Mother's Milk by the Red Hot Chili Peppers and then from there I got to do the first Rage Against The Machine record too.

Before we get to those — what did you pick up osmosis-wise from Wagener? I guess back in those days those records were super-vocal laden — lots and lots of layers of falsetto I bet.

[laughs] Yeah. Vocals and lots of hairspray. I actually learnt from Michael how to get great guitar sounds. He was always the king for that. He had the '80s metal sound down to a tee. And of course back then they didn't have Pro Tools or whatever, so anytime you wanted to fly tracks around you had to lock up two decks and offset things and such and it got pretty difficult.

And Mother's Milk?

That was absolutely wonderful. I was actually working with a drummer named Chad Smith — we were doing this jingle and I was going over to meet Michael Beinhorn and a guy named Lindsay Getz, who was at the time the manager. And they said, "Look Garth, we're looking to find someone to play the drums for them," and I said that I knew the guy so I told them about him. They said he was going to come and play the next day and I told them then that's their guy. So that's how Chad and I got started, and that was when John [Frusciante] began to play guitar for the band too. He was absolutely a brilliant player. I think he was eighteen when he joined. That was his dream — to play with Flea.

And then to Rage Against The Machine, which I think is one of the greatest rock records of the 1990s. To me it sounded like they didn't need any rehearsals. They sounded like they were on fire.

Yeah. With Rage, we didn't really have to do much pre- production because for their first record, they were actually A BAND. That's why I think the record turned out so great was because they were four close-knit guys. After I did them, the next record and the other two, Zack [de laRocha] and Tom [Morello] didn't really speak. I do tend to try and do many, maybe like a week or ten days or two weeks getting to know a band and their songs — because some bands you have to go in and kind of have to show them what a song is, and some bands you don't — and Rage was one of those bands. They had everything there. I did help Zack with a couple of vocal lines and parts and there but that's it. We actually did that record where we had brought in a big concert P.A. system and we had Brad Wilk sitting behind the actual P.A. with his drums and we had Tom's guitar, Tim's bass and Zack's vocals coming though the P.A. The one song that was completely live from the floor was "Settle For Nothing". Zack lost his voice after the first couple of days and we basically had to go in and redo his vocals on some songs.

I can imagine that hardly any vocal comps were done too .

Well, what I actually did with his vocals was that I cleared out the front of the console where somebody would sit down and balance things and I gave Zack a hand-held SM58 and I cranked the main monitors as loud as they could go and just had him sing. What Zack would do live, Zack did there — you know, dancing, and doing what Zack does. I didn't want to bring him in there and put him in front of a nice mic with a pop screen. I wanted him live.

He had to be himself.

Exactly yeah. You know what? That's the biggest problem that people do today. When they make records they take the band out of their comfort zone and environment of what they are actually used to and a lot of people that made records are so cut up on specs this, and specs that. The whole thing is that you're dealing with human beings and you are dealing with music and art. The whole "art" thing to me is getting lost.

Who do you think has retained that virtue thus far?

The only band that I think basically has taken risks is Radiohead. The last two records that they did are such a far departure from what their first three records were. Everybody is hopping on a stupid bandwagon. I wish people would make records form the heart and not from the pocketbook.

Like The Melvins?

[laughs] Oh yeah. You know what? That's exactly why I loved working with them because they are absolutely 100% true art. The really funny thing was I think it was Danny Goldberg who called me up because he had actually signed them to a label he was with at the time and he said, "Buzz Osborne is a complete lyric genius." And I thought, "Okay, great," and I went to Buzz and asked him to write me out the lyrics to a song and he said, "They weren't done yet." So then goes on and says, "Okay Garth, hit play [on the tape machine]." The song plays once, and then again, and then he basically wrote out the lyrics right there. He actually just wrote them for the first time. And I read them and they went like "tic-a-toe-rest, do-fa-me-lah, be-so-do, me-kay-be-dee." And I said, "Buzz... what is this!?" and he goes, "This is how I write songs!" They meant absolutely nothing. There were basically words that just sounded good. Buzz really pushed it, but I loved that. We would do those records from start to finish — mixed in twelve days.

Houdini, Stoner Witch and Stag, right?

Yeah. I took over from Kurt Cobain for the first record, Houdini.

Stoner Witch was recorded with Joe [Baressi].

Yeah. That was my favorite one. And the really weird thing was, that record and Stag and Shot by the Jesus Lizard which I also did were the two records I got a Juno nomination for a [Canadian version of a Grammy], and actually ended up winning, too.

You... won... a... Juno?!?!

A Juno! [laughs] For "Record Producer of the Year". I beat out David Foster [laughs] — I beat out Bruce Fairbairn, Bryan Adams and I beat out Cory Hart! [laughs] I still laugh you know, because when I got up, my speech was, "Ehhh cool" and I hopped off the stage. People were going, "Who the hell is this?!? Stoner Witch, Stag?!?!"

[laughter] Not only that... but they're extremely heavy records!!

I know, I know! I was completely shocked.

So what was the modus operandi with Stoner Witch — to make it as huge as possible?

Yeah. You know what we did with that record was that we had three different drum kits set up in the room. We had one kit with approximately forty mics on it, and we had a monster P.A. inside the room. And directly across from it we had a drum kit that had seven tube mics, going for the old school "Beatles" sound. And then in a very small tight room we had a third kit consisting of your regular set-up. And depending on the songs, we would use whatever kit. We basically had the best time in the world because on one vocal we brought in a 25' plastic tube and we had Buzz sing into it and we would mic the other end. We had one guitar sound that went through 25 pedals. It was truly one of the best records I have ever been involved with because you could do anything. And we did the weirdest things. We had an absolute blast.

And they played pretty much just off the floor together.

People always asked me how I get those sounds and it really comes from the actual person playing it. Back when I was working with Michael Wagener, people would say, "We want that Eddie Van Halen sound," and I would say, "Great, let's call him up, because that's the only way anybody will ever get that sound." You really got to have a really good player.

Because from there it can only get better.

People don't clue in that shitty sound means shitty player. It's that simple.

From seeing you work in person, it was obvious that you have successfully combined both eras of recording now — the more live, analog method with Pro Tools in a logical and creative manner. When did you first use a DAW?

I actually started working on it when I did a record called Hungry For Stink with L7. Joe [Barresi] was my engineer on it. I was sitting at A&M studios, it was Christmas eve, I was trying to fix some drum tracks and I called up my friend Scott Humphrey and he was the first guy in L.A. who knew how to use Pro Tools. I called him up and left him this long message saying, "Scottttt... hellllllppp!" and he came back after New Year's and that was basically the very first time I used it. I think that was in 1993 or 4 and I have used it ever since. I think it is a wonderful tool, and I think that that the biggest myth is that people think if you put it into Pro Tools it's going to sound good. It is an actual tool — it isn't a savior. And, you still have to have good sounds going into it — you still have to know how to use it. The biggest thing is that people think because it is there they have a clue how to make someone's record — and they don't know how to do file management, they don't know have a clue how to clean things up, and many times we have gotten sessions from people and we don't know what's what — it's not labeled properly. The kids that want to learn how to make records still have to know how to get a drum, bass and guitar sound, and that's the biggest thing that I truly hate because kids these days — just because they've gone to some school and they've turned it on they think they have a clue. That's sad. People are not properly being taught. You still have to get the singer to sing properly. The great thing that I have done — if you have a great band, and if you have a great singer — what I did with one record here was that we had the drummer and the rest of the band play the song seven times with the singer singing it seven times. I would pick one really good drum track. But because this drummer was so good, I could load all the other vocal takes in. I could comp my vocals from that, and I got just the most wonderful vocals. And that's a good thing about Pro Tools. You have to get a proper engineer that knows and understands how to get proper sounds and once it goes into Pro Tools, you can change things, add things and take things away. That is the great thing about it. You know, having a new young kid around today, you go up to them and tell them to actually cut the 2" tape and they turn white because they don't have a clue. They're like, "You can cut the tape?!?!" and I'm like, "Of course you can, let's go! Here's the blade, cut it!" It's kind of a dying art. You're going to see a lot of the old school guys coming back again because these new young hot-shot kids that these guys from labels are saying, "This guy is the 'the shit'," and yeah, he IS SHIT, because he doesn't know how to record properly. And all the old-school cats that know how to get a snare sound are being called back. I have had a great life because I watched my dad make great records — I watched Bob Ezrin make records — I watched Michael Wagener make them too and I learned how to properly make great sounds, and I also learned how to use the new-school stuff too, because it's a big thing.

Well certainly so — I've seen you commandeer two systems at once — you've got that down to an art!

I have two systems right now, and I'm getting a third one too, because it's totally, totally great because I can take one home. For instance, we just finished this one record by Kittie [Oracle] and we sent the actual hard drive out to Randy Staub, and we said, "Randy, here it is," and he put it into their rig there and dumped it into their Sony 3348 [digital 48 track] and he could work! And in the old days, you would have to ship tapes and now it's on a bloody hard drive. It's absolutely shocking. You know, my dad came home back in like 1965 and said, "They just came out with 3-track... what next?" and like now, it's like 72 tracks, 108 tracks, whatever you want it's there. It's pretty rad. People have to embrace new technology — because if they don't, they'll be left out in the dark, and I know many engineers who are absolutely terrified of it. I'm like, "Guys you gotta get off your asses, sit down, and figure it out." You know, my father is scared of it, and he made some incredible records — it's a whole new learning curve. I spent the time learning it, and it's not that hard to do.

So we were talking about bands who can perform — pretty much channel their thing from right off the floor — how was it like when working with Kittie? Those albums are really solid and tightly arranged.

Kittie, basically — and the point that I must stress is that every note, and every drum, bass pattern and vocal idea came from them. Some bands, you have to use Pro Tools more than others but you still use it. For Kittie it was great because it made Morgan [Lander] understand better that if a song didn't work — you know — there was one song with her where I said that we needed to put one chorus back in, so we did it and from thereon, she had a better feeling for things. With drums — we did cut drums up, but it's the same thing as Bob Rock does when he works any band. I use it with every single drummer that I am actually with. Kittie just gets picked on because they are young chicks, which is sad because they are really talented.

Interesting. So she developed her writing skills even more by using it as a visual aid — she could actually see her vocal tracks and how they can be structured.

I could show her something and we could move it really fast, whereas back in the old days, if you cut 2", you would have to cut it, put it on a piece of tape, save it on the wall, wind the tape where you wanted it to go, mark it and cut into the tape. And then if it sucks, you have to do that all over again. For speed, Pro Tools is great.

So when we were hanging out while you were doing Robin Black's [and the Intergalactic Rockstars] record — I noticed you had a system going on — there was you, mixing and cutting and all that in the control room, then there was an arranger with you, then in another room, you have someone on another Pro Tools dealing with vocals, flying stuff in and out.

[laughs] Yeah. You know how I look at it? I am a sergeant leading my company troop A into battle.

[laughs] That's what it looked like because you had the clipboard going — you were like Steven Spielberg on a film set or something!

I have lots of wonderful people that work with me. I have a guy named Ben Kaplan and I have a guy named Chris von Jones and Dean Marr and they are all great at what they do. I'm kind of the camp counselor. I actually talk and sit down with the band and say, "Okay — your record wants to be how — tell me this and this and so on," and then I tell my guys, "This is how the ship has to be turned now, turn it this way or that way." I give a lot of people a lot of rope. I think it's better to have somebody involved and they can use their brain as opposed to somebody coming up and saying, "I will tell you when to jump and how high to jump." They all have a say.

Once again, it's making sure people are being themselves, no matter in what environment.

Yeah, yeah, yeah — you know — how many times that I have actually worked with bands where I have been the engineer and when the guy that's calling the shots would leave the room and then they'd say, "Garth, he's wrecking our record — you've got to help us!" and I would go, "Guys, I can't, because I was hired by him and I have to be loyal to him." I've always taught bands by telling them, "Look, this is your record. It's not my record." I always make sure with bands like Kittie, where I'd tell Morgan, "It's your record, and not mine, and if there are any problems, you've got to speak up, so I can help take it any way that you want it to go." And that's the way that Ben works with me. He knows that the bottom line is that the band has to be happy when it's all done. And I am kind of like a camp counselor or a movie director — I have a great team, and everybody has their own little role. That's my thing.

It's maintaining confidence throughout the whole thing. Exactly. It is making people feel important and loved.

I have seen many people that have my job [that] are so insecure — because they don't want somebody trying to steal their show — and it's like, "Buddy, this is not rocket science — this is about dealing with people." And again, getting back to my comment from a while ago — people are so caught up on specs and their own self- ego that they totally lose track — I am hired and the band is my client, and I have to work for that band and that I am actually working with human beings — I'm not working with a box, or a tape — I am working with human beings that have feelings. And the whole problem now is — we are all basically — "I want this Big Mac now, I want this now, that now." It has nothing to do with human beings. We are dealing with human beings, shut the fuck up — let it come naturally.

The Canadian Juno Producer of the Year award was very recently renamed the Jack Richardson award. Good thing GGGarth won it when he did, otherwise it would look like nepotism after all...