Steve Berlin: Los Lobos, Ozomatli, Jackie Greene, more...

A long time member of the roots rock band Los Lobos, Steve Berlin has amassed a considerable amount of credits to his ever-changing resume. Certainly diverse, his work as a producer is difficult if not impossible to categorize. From Latin to acoustic folk, alternative to blues, Steve Berlin seems to have a knack for changing it up. Most recently, I worked with Steve on my record titled, American Myth. Oftentimes it's difficult for artists to choose producers, but choosing Steve seemed fairly clear to me. He has a tremendous sense of creativity in the studio and his abilities as an arranger and obvious confidence behind the glass are reasons enough to make him a sought after producer. I first met Steve two years ago when my band opened for Los Lobos in San Francisco. After the show, we hung out and talked about records, bands we liked and didn't like, etc. Musically, we were on the same page. We both liked a lot of the same bands and recordings, and had similar ideas on recording music. Not long after that we became friends, and when it came time for me to make a record, I immediately thought of Steve Berlin. I'm glad I did. Steve has been active in the business for a long time. He's worked with artists and bands both big and small. He's been a session player, engineer, mixer, producer and band member for about as long as I've been alive. In the Tape Op spirit of being unique, I thought it might be an interesting twist to have the artist interview the producer. So, I called up Steve one evening as he was finishing some work in the studio on what is to be the next Los Lobos record. We got carried away just talking about different things, but here's the best of it.

You joined Los Lobos in 1984, correct?

Well it was kind of weird. We started working on the first EP — it wasn't even a record — called And a Time To Dance. And when we started that I was in The Blasters, and by the time we finished the EP three months later, I was in Los Lobos. So on the record I was listed as producer, but by the end of it I wasn't in The Blasters anymore, I was in Los Lobos. So there's kind of a grey area of when I officially joined Los Lobos. I would say late '82ish, maybe.

You also produced one of Dave Alvin's [of The Blasters] first solo records, Romeo's Escape.

Yeah, I did. As far as I know, that was Dave's real first time singing. He was pretty anxious about it and it was a blast. We put a great band together and went to a great studio called Radio Recorders on Santa Monica [Blvd.] in L.A. The whole thing had a really nice vibe about it. Dave's sort of a mildly nervous guy, but I remember that he was really happy about how everything sounded, and he dug the whole vibe of it. And you know his brother wasn't there chewing him out like he usually does — The Blasters were so high strung — so just being in the studio without everybody fighting all the time was probably a relief to Dave. Consequently, it was a very emotional recording. Everybody really put themselves deep into it and it was a blast.

When we first met, I remember us talking about the limitations of recording onto analog tape and how those limitations can actually be a good thing, creative-wise. Has this been your approach essentially?

Well it's not necessarily a philosophical outlook on my part, but it seems that if you have a certain set of limitations — and that's really one of the problems with Pro Tools — is really the only finite limit is either money or patience or talent, really. If every choice is possible, how do you really distinguish when you are actually done? I think it's arguable that some of the finest music ever made was made with the least amount of options. You know, Sgt. Pepper's..., Howlin' Wolf, or Robert Johnson records — they had few options, really. It just had to be great music right off the floor, and then creatively manipulate the available options. When we do a Pro Tools session, which we do way more often than not these days, I like to subconsciously operate as if there is tape involved. To say, "That's about the track limit right there" — you can have 24 or 30 or whatever and say that's it. And perhaps that's not a hard rule — I break it all the time — but I think when you think in those terms, it forces you to make choices and go down paths. If you had endless options then you might try to save those options for the mix days, and in the end you're really fucking yourself over. I was just talking to Mitchell Froom [ Tape Op #10 ] about [Los Lobos'] Kiko yesterday, and the fact that we had relatively few options helped the record to come together rather quickly. We had so many well-processed tracks that were demos, so the record was pretty effortless to make. You know, I'm certainly not an anti-Pro Tools guy. I certainly love the economy — I love the fact that it's easy for you to make demos in your own home and you can take those sessions anywhere and not have to worry about the tape azimuth and two machines being different, etc. I mean those are certainly wonderful things, and also being able to rescue things that in a tape-only universe might not be able to be rescued, is really a godsend. You know as often as I decry the tendency to sort of wank on a hard drive, there's also times when you are able to rescue something or capture something that, had it been a tape machine, we would have just had to start over.

So, I know on our record we did most of the stuff to tape, then some editing and overdubs in Pro Tools. Is that how you'd prefer to work? Maybe using the "best of both worlds," so to speak?

Well, in a perfect world it would just be tape, to be honest with you. I think tape sounds better, or at least I like the way it sounds. I like that there's 15 seconds or so of reflection after you do something so you can think about what you just did. But you know, I understand the world how it is and I think that it's a pretty healthy marriage to go to tape and then dump to Pro Tools for the next step or whatever. But really, I've done it every which way — all Pro Tools, all tape, both, either/or, back and forth — and I will say that the quality of the plug-ins have improved amazingly. And the phase stuff that used to bug the crap out of me pretty much no longer exists in Pro Tools. You can actually make a really good sounding record just in Pro Tools with the modern plug-ins and not have to worry about those things.

You mentioned Kiko earlier. That's arguably one of Los Lobos' best records. How was it made?

Well, it was all tape, and we recorded about half the record on a 16-track 2" at a place called Paul and Mike's, which was in the poorest neighborhood Los Angeles — down on the "nickel"- 5th Street downtown. Then we moved to Sound Factory Studio B and finished it there — overdubs and mixing too.

You won a Grammy for the first Los Super Seven record, which is an incredible record. Was that the one that was done in several different countries?

No. That was the second one. The first one was pretty much all done in a studio called Cedar Creek in Austin. It was pretty much all rough mixes! With the exception of two or three of them, they were done in like 20 minutes on the last day we were there. We had a 2:00 flight and started at 10:00, and sort of just blew through the thing, and those roughs ended up being unmatchable. We moved to the Sound Factory studio in L.A. to try and mix it, but couldn't touch it. The whole record was done in a week. The idea was that everybody would come to Austin with two songs in mind and we'd just bang 'em out and see what happened. The shorthand version of the concept was just East L.A meets Austin. The revelation of that record, to me, was Ruben Ramos — who I think is one of the most fantastic singers alive. He's an Austin guy that not many people had known about, but he is one of the most amazing people to hang out with. The guy has this '50s, Frank Sinatra vibe about him and is always dressed in perfectly tailored clothes. The guy's like 60 years old! I once saw him jogging and his jogging suit was pressed. Amazing! The other cool thing about that record is we captured Doug Sahm's last performance. We had talked about having him involved, but for whatever reason he was sort of in and out and never there at a time when we could actually do anything with him. So he was stopping by one day sort of toward the end of the process and he poked his head in and said, "Man, that sounds great!" and then left the building. I remember thinking, "Damn, we've got to get Doug on something!" We were working on that song "Rio De Tenampa" that David Hidalgo and Louie Perez wrote, and there's this bridge section that I thought would be perfect. So he was literally pulling out of the parking lot when I ran out and jumped on his Cadillac and was like, "Doug! Get in here! We want you to sing something!" And literally, he got out of the car, engine running, door open, and came in and sang the bridge of that song, got back in his car and drove away! And unfortunately, I'm sad to say that it was the last time I saw him alive. He died about a year later. He was there in spirit nearly through the whole thing, but it totally blew my mind to hear him just come in and do that part and take off.

You've made all kinds of different records. You did my record, you've done singer/songwriters like Dave Alvin, and you've done bands like the Tragically Hip and Faith No More. You've done Latin records, etc. How do you manage all of that? Is there anything you prefer?

If I like it, I'll record it! Basically, that's it. You know, I can't imagine what it would be like to just record one genre or just one thing. I don't think people really listen that way anyway. I mean doesn't everybody have Thelonious Monk and George Jones in their record collections?

That's a good point.

All my friends do. I just think it's important to do that, and I've been unbelievably lucky and blessed to have had the opportunities to work with different artists and make records in all these different styles and genres. You know, hopefully I can bring stuff from one to the other — you know, mixing and matching musicians and stuff. I mean, we definitely did that on our record [American Myth]. Bringing in guys like Rene Camacho, who is the best salsa bass player that I know — I mean, he played the shit out of a beautiful folk song on your record.

You mean the song, "Just As Well"? Yes he did!

Yeah! You know the way he felt time, and the way he grooved on that song was just totally cool to me. It's a salsa kind of a groove. In my mind the juxtaposition of those two elements make the song stand out.

What is producing? I'm sure it can be approached many different ways, but is there a general sort of rule that you follow?

Well you know, every project is different, which is partly what makes this such a cool gig. But the general rule for me, the most important part of the job aside from getting the songs to be great, is to have sort of a really long "eye" — not in the generic sense of that word, but to really see the end record, keeping a really long view and sort of getting a sense of what the end of the record is going to be like. How do these songs fit together? How does this all make sense? How does this fit in with other records in the artists' career? How does this song in this key fit with this rhythm? Does it fit with the other rhythms on the record? How do the emotional temperatures fit together? Basically, it's important to keep a really wide sense of what the record is and what it could be, and where it might want to go at some stage along the way. Producing is a very profound job, really. I mean, it's difficult to explain. Like for instance on your record, when we dropped that song "Reasons To Be Free". Well, you had probably more songs than we actually needed, so I started thinking about that stuff early, probably earlier than anyone should have, but I didn't want us to spend valuable time and creative energy on something that we weren't totally sure of.

Well, we made the right decision because looking back, that song would not have fit as nicely with the others on the record. Perhaps it will on the next one.

Yes, certainly. So, that's basically it. I mean producing is so many different things, but I think the basic core of it is keeping the longest possible view on the project. In some cases, it's artists that have long careers before I join them, you know just getting a sense of where they are and where they might be going, where their fans think they should go, etc. — keeping a running sense of the end of the record before the record even starts — that's it.

Who are some of your favorite producers? Oh man! Well, I grew up in Philadelphia during the Philadelphia International years, so that Gamble and Huff stuff was a big influence, especially the detail in the orchestrations — those records have so much going on, yet every single sound is perfect and it never seems busy. And Nick Lowe's records always work for me in terms of muscularity and humor. Of the more recent guys — I really like Nigel Godrich, and Chris Walla [ Tape Op #111 ] is doing some really good stuff too. I have to mention, the Hank Shocklee [ #51 ] interview here in Tape Op really fucked me up. Imagine not only inventing an entire genre, making amazing and articulate records, but also inventing the instruments as well? Nobody else I can think of has cut a swath quite like that. And of course, Mitchell Froom — I've learned so much from him and he has a really beautiful approach to it. I think one of the things that Lobos and Froom brought to each other was a sort of heightened appreciation for imperfections and the beauty that can come from not necessarily knowing everything that's going to happen.

Not micro-managing every situation down to each eighth-note, so to speak?

Exactly.

Now, I know you're not really a "gear" guy, but is there any gear that you like to use? Do you have favorite gear in the studio?

Not really. I kind of like just showing up on the first day of the project with just the gear between my ears. I know guys who can't go anywhere without their trunks, and while there's certainly not anything inherently wrong with that approach; it's just not me. Sometimes I think all the stuff just gets in the way a little bit. I'd rather make just the best possible record with whatever is there.

That kind of goes back to the limitations thing.

Yeah. Exactly! You know if it's a Tascam 4-track in the middle of fucking nowhere, then great! Let's go make a record, you know? I don't know. I don't really have requirements. I love the old stuff though. I love Neves, APIs and the Chandler EMI Series are unbelievable. Not too crazy about SSLs, but none of that is necessary. It's not a hard, fast rule, especially now, with home studios, you just make a record with what you've got. If it's a great performance, then you use it. Simple as that. You know even if there is a demo that sounds inspired, I'll use as much of that as I can. If there's any possible way to use it, I will. Even if it was recorded on an answering machine.

So performance is key then?

Absolutely. Performance and inspiration and passion. First and foremost.

Well that makes sense of why you put together such a great band for our record.

Thanks. You know, to get back to our philosophical talk... I guess I've always tried to make records that are timeless. Like the first Television record [Marquee Moon]. That record is timeless. There is nothing to me about that record that says, "1976." That was the idea behind doing your record with a pre-existing band — Pete Thomas and Davey Farragher and Val McCallum at Sage & Sound. I hope it has that timeless quality to it. There's nothing on it that could tell you when it was made. I liked that first review it got, "Who says they don't make classic rock anymore?" That critic got the sense of that and I think that's cool.