Roger Bechirian: Elvis Costello, Squeeze, Undertones

When I was in my early teens and started to get the listening bug, I went on a huge British pop/rock spree. Records by Elvis Costello, Squeeze, Lene Lovich, The Undertones and the Nick Lowe/Dave Edmunds/Rockpile camp were some of my favorites. Then I noticed they all listed an engineer/producer named Roger Bechirian in the liner notes. Some of these albums were destined to become groundbreaking pop classics (Elvis Costello's Armed Forces, Nick Lowe's Jesus of Cool, Squeeze's East Side Story) and they all had an appealing, unfussy, clean, and natural sound that ran against the grain of the gated reverbs of the day. The recordings always sounded like an amazing band was playing tracks like their lives depended on it. The drums were clear and dry-ish, with a perfect combination of tone and impact. The guitars and vocals sounded loud and close. The bass lines always popped through the mix, without being cloudy. And keyboards served to support the song, never getting gimmicky. No small feat in 1981! "Tempted" by Squeeze is a prime example. Listen to that today and try to tell me it sounds dated. It doesn't. It's a great song, arrangement and performance committed to tape in a completely appropriate, timeless way. 

Can we hear a bit about your career trajectory and how you got interested in recording?

It was from an early age. I was the geeky one looking at the back of albums to see what studios they had been recorded in. I wasn't even sure what production meant. Everyone else knew the names of band members. I never knew that, but I could tell you who the engineer was! My father used to be a photographer and he was very interested in creativity. He had a tape recorder that I used to play around with. I learned very quickly about feedback and being able to edit and cut things up.

What bands were you listening to around this time?

The Beatles played a big part. The thing that really sucked me in though was the Tamla Motown era. Those Marvin Gaye recordings were just honey to my ears. I'll tell you what also really did it for me: The Beach Boys' "Good Vibrations." That was such a magical trip of, "How on earth do they do those things?" I think I must've worn that single out in a day, just listening to it over and over again. I loved listening to the layers of vocals. I felt, "I have to be able to do this!" I remember sitting on the steps of my parents' house with a phone book and looking through it for recording studios. I rang every one of them, starting with Abbey Road! Eden Studios, a small studio at the time in Kingston, West London, took me on in the early '70s. They had a Scully lathe. Anyone who recorded there would go away with a 7- inch acetate of the session. This was before cassettes. So, they wanted to train me to do that. Record companies would want 20 cuts of the next single to have as references for their departments.

That's some labor there!

It was very tedious. They trained me in the basic skills of mastering with this lathe. At the time it was mono. In the middle of doing that, there would be sessions going on in the studio. It was quite a small affair — they'd built it all themselves. It was really old school and everything was totally dead. The desk was based off an old BBC design, with the reverse operating faders and all of that. I got a taste of the process and got to assist on a few sessions by moving microphones around and what not. They had an Ampex 4-track at the time.

At this point, you were college-aged?

Yes. They had to move from the premises two years after that. They found this old warehouse in Chiswick, London. They had a studio designed and built from helped build the desk and wire the studio. I was studying electronics at college, so I had some background. It opened my eyes an awful lot. Two of the owners were BBC-trained. They felt it was important that I get a really good grounding, so they sent me off to a Tonmeister Course in England. That's like a three or four year thing.

What is that?

Tonmeister is an engineering standard in Germany. You have to be able to read music, but I was sent there more for the engineering side. You take microphones apart so you can learn how they work. You learn what compressors do. When you compress something, what's actually going on? Curves, release times and things like that. I got to learn an awful lot; I'm very grateful they insisted I have that kind of grounding. In those days it was very standard. If you worked at EMI, there was a training procedure you went through. You needed to know how to line up a multitrack.

In the late '70s and early '80s you engineered and produced a lot of records for Nick Lowe, Elvis Costello, Rockpile and Squeeze that I love.

The Undertones were another band around that time, though I don't think they did much in America at all.

I got their first album in high school and just played the hell out of it.

The Undertones were great! [Sire Records head] Seymour Stein called out of the blue. He said he had this band from Ireland and he really wanted me to work with them. I met with their manager, Andy Ferguson. He's a great guy — he's still looking after their affairs. He had a couple of tracks and I loved them right away. This was probably my first real offer as a producer. I'd done a lot of coproduction odds and ends. Obviously I jumped at it! We organized fees — I took whatever they told me because I had no idea what I was supposed to be making! We booked the studio and then I met the guys. We didn't rehearse or anything.

They sounded ready.

We just bashed through the record. We had fun every day. They were young and full of energy. They were just kids and they were absorbed in the excitement of being signed by a label. Suddenly they were in London, staying in hotels and being driven to the studio. We did it in Eden Studio. My first hit album, I think. The album was a breakthrough and the singles worked pretty well.

Most of the records you were working on in that era were done at Eden. Maybe it's partly your style and partly the studio, but it's a distinctive sound. It's a very bright, but dry and powerful sound. You didn't seem to need to get a lot of ambience.

Yeah, they're all from Eden. The room was actually fairly natural sounding. It wasn't the biggest room — it had a relatively low ceiling. There were multi- reflections all over the place, but they were pretty well-controlled. You could mic stuff at a distance or quite close — it would never be a big room ambience. I grew up in an era where people were close-mic'ing more. Drum kits seemed to have hundreds of mics around them. Some of it worked and some of it didn't! People were also moving away from tube mics. Things were becoming more FET [Field Effect Transistor] and those mics were generally brighter and quieter. That was the great thing about locking up all those tube mics; the background noise was so horrible, especially with tape. It was not an ideal situation, since there's a certain grandeur to old tube mics that electronically FET doesn't really give you. But in those days we didn't hear things as well as we do now. I had a small set of speakers. It's the clarity and quality of reproduction that has moved on much more. That's why people are going back to old equipment — you can actually hear it now! Before, it was lost in noise and cabling. You can hear the desk and you can hear the old preamps. Nobody used that stuff in those days. Why would you use that? I used to listen on JBL 4350s — huge, multi-range speakers. They were the size of a wall!

Do you think there's a big difference between "British" and "American" recording aesthetics and philosophies?

I was reading something interesting the other day about how American records were more honest about the way things were recorded, whereas in Europe they didn't really care. They'd use tons of EQ to get it right, or they'd use an effect. In America you'd be moving the mic around until you got the sound right. I remember the first time I worked in America I was astonished at the insane preoccupation of every single sound. I never got that in England. Mics where thrown in a cupboard and no one really thought about it. That bright, attacking "British" sound is a part of that generation.

Because the Brits were more likely to reach for the EQ?

Absolutely. Personally, I had no hesitation. I was never afraid of reaching for the EQ. But, actually I do remember a lot of engineers I used to assist, old school guys, would barely touch it. Boosting the high-end half a dB would be enough. I'd quite happily crank 12 dB, if that's what it needed. If it sounds good, it is good.

That said, the records you worked on sound quite natural to me. You seemed to resist the sonic trappings of the '80s effects. The crazy snare drum, the gated reverb...

Well, I sure did try things on a few records.

But with restraint. As a result, I think those records are still really listenable.

Thanks. I think you're right. Recently I started transferring everything I've done to digital and it's quite surprising to listen to some of the records. It's amazing how good those tapes sound now. I really didn't expect it. I thought they'd sound small and thin by comparison to what we have now. Actually, there's a real depth to these recordings. The technology really does hold up. I'm pleasantly surprised. It'll be interesting, when I start mastering these things, to see how they turn out compared to the originals.

There are occasional little bursts of runaway flutter echo on some of those records. It becomes a little piece of ear candy that you look forward to. Do you remember consciously going for that?

I do remember using those effects, but why I don't know. I think those things were dreamt up by any one of us. They would've been a conscious decision. I think those kind of effects were a part of that time as well. They were probably derived by a couple of ReVoxes spitting out tape delay that was set on some sort of feedback. Obviously mixing at that time was done without a computer. That's something I love to this day. These days it seems the life gets sucked out of it, the more you employ computers to move this and move that. I can understand if you have a hundred tracks going, but otherwise I think it's crazy. Doing a change on the fly is like dancing. You're dancing with the faders and it's a performance! For me, a lot of those records standout because there's a sense of excitement. It comes from adrenaline!

Do you still do "manual mixes" from time to time?

I try to. One of the things that's great about Pro Tools is anything that would take too much time to move while you're mixing live, you can trim on the computer. A pan, level or EQ change — you can do all the complicated stuff in the computer. One of the things I always did, and still do, is ride the vocal through the mix. I feel you need to, with compression. Some singers are not good at performing in front of a mic, at least in the studio. They tend not to be dynamic. So, you need to reintroduce that performance and sense of dynamic into the record. That's very much a part of the process for me. I don't want the computers to be doing everything.

Do you simply do it by feel?

Yes, exactly. I'll have a few marks — don't get me wrong. But it's different each time, because I feel something different each time. That's how it should be. And that's what I miss from bands that don't record as bands anymore. Yes, it's tedious to record something 15 times, but the 16th time is the magic one. It's so easy now to lay down the drum track, not worry about anything else and chop all the bits together. So much of that interplay between bandmates has been lost. You can hear it on records when they're obviously playing together, and when they're not. Making records shouldn't be rigid. Think more and extrapolate ideas more. Be freer. It's a collective. Those elements make the process exciting and unique. You never know where things may take you. Don't be scared — the technology is there to be used, not intimidate you. The environment and procedure shouldn't intimidate you either. It's there for you to enjoy as a musician. If you enjoy listening to it, a thousand other people will as well. People are getting too bogged down, staring at the screen and moving little things around.

After a long string of successful engineering and production projects, you formed a band. Blanket Of Secrecy scored a minor hit.

Actually, Blanket of Secrecy is probably one of my proudest moments because it was an opportunity for me to be very creative as a writer. I was driving home recently and heard the song on the radio. I thought, "I can't believe this. It's still being played!"

That was "Say You Will?"

Yes. To follow up on the moderate success, we decided to make a second album and go on tour for the first time. We were actually penned to go on the road with Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. This was to be a big American tour. So we were lining up players for the live show. I'd approached Pete Thomas from [Elvis Costello and] the Attractions to play drums with us. He'd done some great tracks that had never seen the light of day. I wasn't going to be a part of it though — I'm not a performer.

Your role was technically band member and producer?

Yes. We all agreed to that from the beginning; there was no big deal about it. But the singer, Pete Marsh, got his own manager halfway through the second record, which created tension. We carried on, but by the time we finished recording Pete called and said he was leaving. He'd been offered a solo deal with Warners in London. So the second record and tour were scrapped. It was the worst timing. Everything was just starting. There was a week of trying to persuade him to change his mind, but he wouldn't. So, that was it. Warners dropped us. I ended up having to pay back the advance for the second album because I was the only one making any money. It's something I still feel sore about! I was very disillusioned. I was tired of musicians and people who would stab you in the back. I'd also started to sour on my management by then, because I was losing opportunities. For example, after I recorded the "Going Underground" single with The Jam, the band asked me — through my management — to produce two of their albums. But I was never told about their inquiry. I eventually discovered that "I" had turned them down. Twice. I was really angry about that! I would have jumped at the chance to produce a Jam album! My manager had strange ideas about whom he would work with. That's when I decided to start my own production company, VinylTone, and to live in New York for a little bit. I wanted to see how that went.

So that's how you morphed into a management role?

It was through necessity. This was the late '80s. VinylTone had a deal that we'd set up with Epic Records in New York. That ran for about three years. I signed two acts. One was Simon Byrne; he went all the way through the process. The album [Dream Crazy] was released in the states and did fairly well. Their single reached the Top 40. There was a big payola investigation going on with Columbia around that time and we got sucked into that with Epic. There were a bunch of personnel changes and we were stuck with that. Everything died down and they weren't spending money on acts they weren't sure about. I think the whole process sucked the life out of me. I had gone from record producer to running a record label. I was arguing with Epic about music videos and budgets. I just thought, "I don't need this shit." I sold out to my partner and moved out to the country. Like, "That's it. I'm going to go hide!" I had a small studio there. I just didn't do anything for about a year.

Was this around the early '90s?

Yeah, the very early '90s. I produced a record for the Trashcan Sinatras. I really liked them, so I made that record in 1991. But that was it. I think a lot of people felt I'd retired. I was out of touch. I'd fired my manager and I had no one looking after me as a producer. It was really difficult; there was nobody selling me. I decided I needed somebody to develop that I could tie myself into as a producer. Eventually I came across Tom McRae who was a singer/songwriter, but he had this punky band. I produced some demos and we received a lot of interest, so that got going. I was looking for a manager for him, actually. I'd just signed him to a publishing deal with Sony. Then he said to me one day, "Why don't you manage me? We trust each other."

That was the moment!

I'd tried everything else in the industry and this just kind of completed the picture. So that's where I've been since. A couple of years into that, I got involved with the Irish band Bell X1. But I wasn't able to let go of production; I was constantly interfering on Tom's albums. Less so on the second one. Ben Hillier produced that. I like Ben very much — I think he did a really good job.

So, your role was to come in for quality control?

Yes, and if I felt things had been missed I had no hesitation in telling people where I thought they should go! It's good to have someone who can lend a guiding hand. I've always felt that was an important role. I did a lot of re-recording and remixing on Flock, the first Bell X1 album. I produced Blue Lights on the Runway, which turned out to be their big hit. I really feel I have to get back in the studio. That's where my love is.

In addition to Bell X1, who are some of the other bands you've recently been handling or working with?

There are two young bands that are also getting a lot of attention. One's called Olfar — it's something like MGMT meets The White Stripes. They also have their roots in English folk traditions. Although it's not folky - it's tougher than that. There are a lot of Nick Drake references. That's the project I'll probably end up executive producing. There's another called Bear Driver that's sort of a collective. There're about six of them, but they keep shifting members. It's a similar kind of vein, but there are more group vocals going on. They put down basic tracks at The Pool Recording Studio [co-owned by Ben Hillier] in London, in three days! I'm quite closely involved in that album. The management thing is going to carry on because I love developing, and looking for, acts from the very beginning. That's something I've always been excited about.

Is there a single record that you're most proud to have worked on?

Elvis Costello and the Attractions' Armed Forces is one of the best records I've been involved with. It just seemed to come together. And it's one of Elvis's least favorites, I think!

Really?

Yes, perhaps because it was so successful! [laughter] Every song seemed to work as a whole. It was a real buzz making that record. It was huge. I have other favorites, but memories are always caught up in the moment.

Costello's vocal sound is very cutting on that album. What vocal mic did you use?

Mostly a Beyer Soundstar, a German dynamic mic that looked like a Cadillac! It had fancy chrome trim, very '50's-looking. It sounded very much like a Shure SM58, but without the high peak. He used that on all the lead vocal tracks, except for "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding." For that one, he came into the studio while on tour and his voice was very road- ragged. I tried a few different mics, including the Soundstar, but we went with a [Neumann] U47 in that instance.

What was [producer] Nick Lowe's role?

In the early days, he rehearsed the records before they recorded them. Nick was about the vibe. That's what I learnt from him. There was a level of mentoring with the writing. But Elvis was way beyond, as a writer.

He's so prolific.

Incredibly.

What was it like working with him in the studio? Was he fast?

Yes, he wanted to get things down. You could feel the urgency. He would always hang around because he wanted to hear what was going on. I think a bit of tension was there, but by the time we got around to the aptly named Trust, he was pretty much okay. I produced some of those tracks on my own, and Nick produced some on his own. Trust was not a happy album for anybody. There were lots of walkouts... and walk-back-ins! [laughter] But I'm really glad I got to work with Elvis and those musicians. A great talent and some great people.