Brendan Benson

For many years loyal readers have asked us to interview Brendan Benson, an artist who has tracked his records in a variety of settings, from full-blown studios to home setups. In 2005, Brendan became a member, along with pal Jack White III, of The Raconteurs and their two albums achieved a nice degree of success. But Brendan's solo albums are truly special as well, with clever songwriting and full, interesting arrangements. I met up with Brendan before a show of his in Phoenix, Arizona.

You first popped up on the radar with your One Mississippi record in 1996. Did that start as sessions with you and Jason Falkner [Tape Op #35]?

Yeah.

What was going on before that with you?

I played in a couple bands in high school — mainly punk and hardcore. I think we came up with enough money to go into a real studio and record a couple of songs. Those bands kind of fizzled. I was left with just an acoustic guitar, so I started writing. I can't remember what I was listening to at the time, all I know is that it wasn't punk anymore. The acoustic guitar was dictating to me how to sing. I met a girl and moved to California. Her roommate started dating Jason; we literally met sitting on opposite ends of the couch at her apartment. I had this cassette tape that I carried around with all the things I'd recorded, but I don't think I played him any of my stuff then. He was in Jellyfish at the time and I think he was shocked to even learn that I played guitar. He turned me onto some cool stuff, like The Zombies and Todd Rundgren. I broke up with the girl, moved back home [to Detroit] and met another girl. This time I moved to San Francisco. Jason and I kept in touch. I gave him a call and told him I wanted to see him and he invited me down to L.A. This time I had a cassette tape and I gave it to him. A week later he called me up and said, "Dude, this is cool stuff. Let's do some arrangements and fill it out some more." I was so happy. We holed up in his apartment, drank a ton of coffee and started recording.

He's always buzzing with energy!

He brought out the 4-track — a Tascam Porta One or Two. We recorded six songs like that. Then I gave it to some friends who knew people at record labels. I got signed amidst a bidding war with Virgin, Columbia and Atlantic. I hadn't even played these songs live!

That was a different time for the music industry.

Yeah, money flying back and forth and they were signing everybody!

I heard that they rejected the first version of the record. Is that true?

I kind of did, more so than the record label. I don't know that "rejected" is the right word. I was insistent that Jason was going to produce the record, because it made sense. We went down to [Daniel Lanois'] Kingsway [in New Orleans] to do it and we spent a ton of money. It just turned out to sound more like Jason than it did me. I didn't know what my sound was then and he was a league above me. At the time I just didn't have the confidence to express what I needed from my album. All I knew was that I couldn't play it. He'd done some guitar parts on the album that I didn't even think I could replicate on stage! [laughter] I didn't know the chords! He was really upset about that, and rightfully so — he worked hard on it. But I couldn't let it come out because it didn't represent me.

Was it pretty amazing working at Kingsway?

It was so cool! That was such an experience. It was just a big old house and they did nothing to soundproof it or anything. They put the console in a spot that worked and that's where it stayed! There were drums set up in the sunroom with French doors. How in the hell did they make that sound good? Daniel Lanois was there for some of it and he was elusive — he would vanish up into his room. We got up the nerve to ask him if he would produce a track. He was so stoked to do it. Man, that was the weirdest experience. It sounded nothing like the other stuff! Jason and I were looking at each other thinking, "Oh, my god. I'm not going to say anything! Let's just finish this." [laughter] It kind of turned into a homoerotic vibe — it was real sexy! The way he was coaching me on vocals, "More breath." He's intense! At one point he played bass on a song. He was sitting at the console playing and I heard something I thought was so cool. I went over and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up at me and there was a string of drool — he was just in another dimension and I totally startled him!

You later worked with Ethan Johns [Tape Op #49] on One Mississippi.

I forget who arranged for Ethan and I to meet. I think it was my A&R guy at the time, Andy Factor at Virgin. He figured out that Glyn Johns did all the records I liked, so it made sense to get [Glyn's son] Ethan. I was back in San Francisco at that point and he came out to visit me. We went to Hyde Street Studios [San Francisco] and pretty much re-recorded the record with me playing it. I think that's another reason Jason felt miffed. We used a lot of his ideas, but he was paid and also got publishing.

Because he co-wrote it with you?

Yeah. At the time I didn't know much and I didn't understand why we couldn't re-record the record. In retrospect I think that was fair. He got paid a fee to arrange the album. I don't want this interview to sound negative! Jason and I have worked together since. He was my mentor for a long time. It was one of those things where I didn't want to be a student anymore — I wanted to come into my own. It was really hard to do with such a great musician like him always being in the room. Of course, it was the same with Jack [White III] and The Raconteurs! [laughter] I didn't mind so much with that experience because now I feel like I've proven myself. Not that I'm on a trip just to prove myself!

You'd proven yourself years ago!

I'm trying! By the time The Raconteurs started up I didn't mind it so much. I felt proud of what I did on that record [Broken Boy Soldiers], which was a whole fucking lot! I think we both fantasized about being in the other person's shoes. I want to have that credibility. My music is constantly called "pop." I love The Stooges and MC5. I've preferred The Rolling Stones over The Beatles forever. So, it was a chance for me to break out, and it was a chance for Jack as well.

I think it's always good to try different projects and collaborations and see where they go.

Totally. It's really healthy. The kind of music I like to listen to and play is a cooperative effort. It's a group thing. Circumstances have turned out to make me a solo artist, so I kind of have to fake it every time. I'm always going for the group thing on records — I want to make it sound like a band. It's in vain. I'm a "singer/songwriter," even though I always protest. They want me to play acoustic inevitably because I'm "Brendan Benson" and that's a name. They think it's just me. They don't bother listening to the records.

When did you start putting stuff together to record with at home? What record did that correlate with?

Right after One Mississippi I met a guy named Rence in San Francisco. He fixed my amps — I started collecting Supro amps and they were all broken. He taught me about electronics. I was going to make a new record on Virgin and I got an advance. Rence convinced me to invest in some recording gear.

So you could hang onto the money.

Yeah, exactly. I asked him to put together a studio situation for me based on records that I liked. At the time I loved the way Stevie Wonder records sounded — how they were so dark. I like that vintage sound. He didn't give me any EQ — he got me compressors and mics. He told me I needed a pair of 1272s, the Neve [preamps] without EQ. He said, "Start here and learn about mic placement." I'm so grateful for that. That's when I got an ADAT. I got a little Mackie [mixer] with the intention that whatever I did, I would take it somewhere to be mixed. But I don't think I recorded much of anything on the ADAT. The error codes made me say, "Fuck this. I want something else." He suggested MCI or Otari. I ended up with all MCI. I've got two 1-inch, 8-tracks and the console to match is a MCI 16-channel console.

Where did you get all of that stuff?

I got a killer deal! I happened to be living in Detroit again, after returning from California. I got news that some kids had this equipment. They'd bought up all the gear from a television station that was upgrading. I think I bought the tape machine for $200 and the console for another $200. I was so stoked. My second record, Lapalco [2002], was done all on that. It's not very good. I was still learning.

There's a roughness to it, but it's cool.

Or, you might say, "Poorly recorded!" I was into that. Panning was a big deal to me. I think I had the right idea; learning about mic placement, compression and balance. I'm interested in where things sit.

Do you still have all that gear set up?

I moved to Nashville to a house that couldn't accommodate my studio. But in Detroit, I lived in this great big house. Kind of like a mini-mansion, because you can get them cheap there. I had that place totally dialed in, with snakes running everywhere. The attic sounded particularly great; that's where we did the first Raconteurs album [Broken Boy Soldiers]. It needed a new roof but the sound was great! Jack had just discovered Cole [ribbon] mics and he was insisting that everything be done on Coles. I bought two and he had eight. He had a lot of experience making recordings with a Teac recorder with some [Shure SM]57s. In the end, we EQ'd the shit out of that record. We were trying to get some 10 kHz or some brightness out of things, but it's not there! [laughter]

On the ribbon mics, you can get away with more EQ than, say, if it was a condenser mic or something.

I figured we'd get a lot of hiss, but it didn't really end up that way.

Didn't you get Matthew Kettle to engineer?

For a short time. In the end, I did a lot of the engineering — running up and down the stairs. Never again! I'm tired of that!

When you're splitting your time between acting as the engineer and also being a performer, do you feel you lose focus on performing?

Yes. Generally I gravitate towards putting my heart into engineering when I do that. I guess I'm more interested in that part of it, which is dangerous.

You could get lost in that.

Totally. All of a sudden you have no songs to record! I'll get a new piece of gear and I'll want to record something, so I'll write a song in order to do it. I've learned a lot. It was kind of nice, when I moved to Nashville, not to have the room for the recording equipment and to have to put it all in storage. I went to a little Pro Tools LE rig and some really simple gear. I think it's safe to say that I'm over it. I'm back into songs and writing music. [laughter]

I always tell people that there are two different hats and it's good to get well-versed in both, if you want to. But you've got to keep track of the goal.

Yeah, you don't want to lose sight. An example of that was The Raconteurs thing and Jack wanting to use all Coles mics. I think he was getting into the sonics and the studio work for the first time and making those mistakes. I'd been doing it longer than him, at that point. I had all kinds of cool gear. At that time, I think I was trying not to be dogmatic. I'd been more strident about sound and gear, back in the day.

It seems like Jack has certain ideas about recording.

He gets obsessed with things, which is good. It's not such a bad word when you're making music. I admire that about him — we all do. Hopefully you're obsessed about the right things. You find out in the end if your obsessions were right.

On the newer record, My Old, Familiar Friend [2009], you worked with producer Gil Norton. That's an interesting choice.

We did kind of clash. Actually, we got along okay. He's a perfectionist, that's all. I am too, in other aspects of my life. But when it comes to music, that's when I'm free. I'm sure that's why I do it. But he's neurotic about it. His methods were dictated by his neurosis, I thought. He had dogmas. He couldn't stand to end a song with a tambourine swell, for example. I agree it's not the coolest thing, but it's not a big deal.

It's not like you can't do it!

Yeah, exactly. Once you start saying "can't" then I'm out. It wasn't fun. I was recording that and The Raconteurs' second album, Consolers of the Lonely, literally at the same time — a month of mine, then a month of The Raconteurs. Talk about opposite ends of the spectrum! It went on like that for four months. We got to work with Joe Chiccarelli on Consolers... He's great and a great engineer.

Did you have to undo some of My Old, Familiar Friend when you took it over to Dave Sardy for more production and mixing?

Oh, yeah. I said to Sardy, "Can you toughen this up?" I knew it was wrong the way Gil was having me tune my guitars, but Dave confirmed it. He offset my guitars and left some of it purposefully un-tuned.

He put some of the rock-and-roll back into it!

Yeah. It just fucking leapt out. That's what I'd been missing. He's [Gil] constantly comping everything. I'm lost and I don't know where we are in the song anymore. With The Raconteurs we wouldn't save any takes; we would tape over them and make decisions on the fly. I don't want a bunch of choices in the end. Gil was the complete opposite; in fact his phrase was, "I'm not dead-sure yet." All the time!

Do you think for a future solo record that you'd self-produce, or would you look for someone to work with?

I would totally work with a producer again. Gil and I were not the greatest match. But I want to work with someone again. I'm tired of doing it all by myself. Honestly, I'm not that good at it.

Making calls on your own work?

Yeah. I'll do a bunch of stuff and leave it all in there in the end. I'm married to it all — I think it sounds so brilliant! [laughter]

It's good to have a sounding board.

Yeah, I need somebody to tell me, "Stop" or, "That's enough." I need someone to ask me, "Why?" I learned in The Raconteurs to record only what you could reproduce live. I thought that was boring!

Then you have to bring a keyboard player on tour!

Yeah, stick to it or you'll have to pay other people! We did some more adventurous stuff on Consolers of the Lonely.

Make a rule and then you break the rule. At least it gives you a direction.

Yeah, you've got to have something to rail against!

I know you've done production for other artists too. How do you see yourself in that role when you're producing?

I've mostly worked with my friends at home. Luckily the guys I've worked with don't need producing, they just need someone to record them properly. But recently I really was producing Cory Chisel in a more professional way, where there was a budget and a real studio. That was the first time I didn't play anything, other than percussion, or do any engineering. I was the guy who was rallying and getting people excited.

Were you working a lot on arrangements too?

Yeah, we'd done most of that in pre-production, which is a really good idea, especially if you don't have a lot of money. I helped write and arrange those songs. I could see it. I came up with the vision.

How you think the record could sound?

Yeah, I could totally feel it. I knew exactly what it would look like. I was so happy that I got to do that.