Tag Archives: music production

Time for a new pair of gloves

Ableton LiveLogic has always felt very much like a snug-fitting glove. I know it like the back of my hand and as soon as I fire up my template song, I’m instantly in a very familiar world. I know where everything is and can instantly jump into the process of creating a track.

That’s probably why, when I fired up Ableton Live yesterday, I felt like a lost puppy. I was suddenly staring at a screen full of icons, grids and text. None of it meant anything. I recognised what appeared to be faders and panning controls but everything else was foreign. Meaningless.

Having started out on Cubase and subsequently moving onto Logic, I’ve been almost solely subjected to the linear approach of timeline-based sequencing and production. Dabbles with Reason are perhaps an exception, but even that follows the same time-honoured approach to building tracks.

Rarely a week goes by when I don’t spot someone using Ableton. Whether it be a YouTube video or an episode of ‘In The Studio’ from Future Music, I’ve always been fascinated to see professionals and fellow enthusiasts singing its praises and claiming it has revolutionised the way they make music. Really?

As its name suggests, Live is partly aimed at those wishing to take elements of their studio out on the road. However, this holds little interest for someone who makes music solely in the comfort of his spare room and is partly the reason I’ve never bothered to seriously look into Ableton’s offering.

Last night, however, I decided to try the demo (and it is worth mentioning at this point the fantastic approach Ableton take with this, offering any of the Live variants on a free 30 day trial with absolutely no limitations or missing features. Bravo.).

This isn’t the first time I’ve tried Live, if I’m honest. I did so several months back but instantly got fed up with not knowing what I was doing and went straight back to my warm Logic gloves.

The same thing happened last night.

In fact, I got so fed up with it that I ended up heading downstairs to shoot some people in the face on Call of Duty.

Later, having expelled many bullets and a large glass of red wine, I went to bed, laptop in hand (my fiance is away, therefore this type of behaviour is temporarily acceptable and not at all antisocial). I decided to watch some of the videos on Ableton’s site. It was this one which convinced me to give it another go, because the guy presenting it finally explained what the mystical piece of software is all about and why ‘being different’ is actually a very good thing indeed.

Ableton allows you to build grooves in a way no other DAW will. For example, in Logic or Cubase, you can bash a few midi notes in and create a ‘region’ on a horizontal timeline. These regions can be copied and moved at will, allowing you to build and arrange your production as you go along. The timeline itself allows you to instantly recognise where you are within your track. Which all sounds fabulous. But it can also be debilitating and often leads nowhere; you get so tangled up in the process of arranging that you forget about the process of writing.

Live offers a ‘session view’ which turns this process completely on its head. Instead of viewing a timeline, you create your own loops, across any number of bars you wish. Once you’ve created, say, a drum loop, you can leave it playing and record a bass part over the top. And so on. This sounds simple, but that’s the point. Without having a massive, gaping timeline to distract you, you can get on with the process of building a piece of music from scratch, even if it is only a bar in length. Many refer to it as a sketch pad for music and that’s a perfect analogy.

It’s early days, however, and I need more time to play but immediate thoughts are positive. I can see Ableton becoming a very useful part of the writing process.

Further updates will follow…

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A history of bedroom production – Part 3

2007: Returned

Kit list: Apple Mac G5, Garageband, Reason 4, Logic Pro, Korg Triton

Apple Mac G5Eagle-eyed readers of the previous part of this series will have spotted a somewhat seismic gap in the noted period. Eleven years to be exact, for those too lazy to check.

If truth be told, I continued to make music between 1996 and 2000. This coincided with me reaching my late teens and, as confused as anyone is at that stage in their lives, I gave in to many a distraction. Going out, drink, girls… Work, even. Once you’re unleashed from the shackles of being a kid and suddenly in possession of the keys to your own car, you’re inclined to make the most of it. And more often than not, that usually involves leaving the house.

Consequently, my music suffered and eventually died a complete (albeit unmourned) death in 2001 when I met Lindsey Allen. Lindsey was the beautiful, blonde-haired girl who would become my soulmate and, in ten years time, accept my nervous, sweaty request of marriage on a sweltering day in Kefalonia. Back then, however, we were just happy to bask in all the glories of newfound romance. All of a sudden, making music was of little interest.

Skip forward to 2007. We own a house and have stable jobs. We’ve even shopped at a garden centre. Basically, we’ve grown up a bit.

Before the house purchase, we lived in a couple of tiny places. They were far too small for any kind of studio to exist, however I did, on occasion, dust off the Triton and remind myself of what I was missing. It was only now, with our own bricks and mortar, that I could seriously consider getting back into it. For days, I eyed up the then empty spare bedroom. It was perfect.

So, with little trepidation I began researching the required gear. I didn’t want to go back to the PC, having torn out my hair multiple times in the past building – and consequently fixing – them. No, I decided to turn to Apple.

Initially, a G4 sounded like a safe bet; cheap yet still capable of running some form of midi sequencer. It harked back to the days of the Atari (something I also briefly considered investing in).

Then, I noticed that a G5 could be had for a small premium. And with that, I bought a dual 1.8ghz variant through eBay, from a guy who worked at the Planet Rock radio station (the machine clearly had relevant roots).

My first experience of the G5 was Garageband, which came handily ready-installed. Bearing in mind I’d not properly worked with

Garageband

Garageband

any kind of DAW or sequencer for several years, I was entering almost unchartered territory. However, what I discovered was jaw-dropping.

 

Instantly, Garageband let me back into my midi-driven roots. But along with that was the sheer power of the thing. Bearing in mind this was essentially a free piece of software which came with any new Apple Mac, it was actually a very respectable standalone DAW with plenty of useable sounds. I couldn’t quite believe just how far things had come on. Back in the 90s, you had to be a real geek to have any idea of how electronic music was sequenced, let alone be so easily exposed to the tools used for doing so.

This got me a little excited. If this is what mass-market fodder like Garageband is like…

ReasonThe next step was Reason 4 and having dabbled with earlier variants and it’s often forgotten ancestor Rebirth some time ago, I was instantly familiar with its self-contained loveliness and addictive tab switching to reveal dangly virtual cables. It was obviously a huge step up from Garageband but it also fully reignited my passion for making music. The sounds you could create were a world away from anything I’d used in the past.

There was only one stop left: Logic. It had been a long time. Would we still get on? Would we recognise each other? What if it had gone a bit weird, met new friends and consequently become a pretentious sod?

It hadn’t. Logic Pro sealed the fate of our spare bedroom. I was back.Logic Studio

I’m not going to dwell too much on why, or go into any detailed discussion on the reason I love Logic (if you’ve kept reading this far, you’re doing well, I wouldn’t want to lose you now), but I’d never have thought after my brief and underwhelming dabblings with it on the PC in the late 90s, that it would become such a staple in later life.

I instantly got to work. Any new piece of software I can lay my hands on, whether it be a DAW, soft synth or effects plug-in, seems to inspire me instantly and Logic was no different. Within a couple of days I’d written a full-length track, the first for about ten years. Listening back, it resembles much of what I’ve described in the last few paragraphs; someone getting reaqauinted with music making. Someone experimenting with a new set of toys. It’s therefore a bit paint-by-numbers and by no means a masterpiece but I do at least have it to hand, which is more than can be said for my earlier works.

So, here it is, the aptly named Returned. I can only apologise for the dreadfully contrived intro:

p.s. My blogging buddy Chris has been charting his own history of bedroom production. It’s quite different to mine and I really recommend a read. His third and final part can be found here.

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A history of bedroom production – Part 2

1996: Discovery of Logic

Kit list: PC, Logic 4, Korg Triton

Korg TritonAlone in a York hotel, I put down a simple gated pad melody. Realising it wasn’t quite biting through, I treated it to a dose of compression. The standard logic unit was grabbed, as always, and my favourite ‘Acoustic Guitar 1′ preset did wonders.

A dash of stereo delay made it stand out yet further over the bed of bit-crushed, arpeggiated strings I’d bounced to audio moments before.

I would have gladly handed over an important body part to have been able to do that back in 1996. But to do it with such ease? On a laptop? In a hotel room? Without spaghetti cabling? Well, said body part would have come with a free member of the Ellis family.

It’s a boring cliche, but it is astounding just how quickly technology moves on, particularly in the world of audio and midi production. I can do anything I need to on my laptop. Aside from a tiny contoller keyboard, I don’t need anything else. Samples, synths and effects are all a few clicks away and putting them all together is an unbridled joy.

I’m in York on business, yet I’ve been able to bring my studio with me, hidden safely between tomorrow’s suit trousers and pants.

Such portability wasn’t really present back in the mid-nineties when I made my first significant jump into what could be described as ‘serious’ gear. Living at home and working a well paid weekend job with dad’s band, I had plenty of disposable income. It was therefore only natural that I started what was to be a long-running addiction to buying studio equipment with my first big purchase: the Korg Triton.

I’ve never been as excited as I was in the days leading up to it’s delivery. Having played it’s predecessor, the Trinity, at a trade show a year or so previous, I knew very well what this thing would be capable of. And I wasn’t dissapointed.

The  flagship workstation sounded like nothing else I’d experienced. A world away from the TG300, it offered a lush sound palette and complex onboard effects. Add to that a sampler and a little ribbon you could rub to make everything sound even more wonderful and I was quite literally in geek heaven. It’s also worth highlighting its continued presence today both in commercial studios and, more predominantly, on the road, where its workhorse capabilities are still relied upon by some of the most skilled professional keyboard players in the world.

One moment stands out for me during my early days with the Triton. I had finally mastered the art of sampling and had successfully captured a beautifully played Gilmour solo from Pink Floyd’s live album, Pulse. Then I found the reverse button. Within a day or so, I’d built a track around the now ethereal sound which resembled anything but an electric guitar. I clearly remember saying to myself, “wow, I can do anything now“; there was finally sense of the freedom I’d yearned for which would allow me to create the music I had in my head. As much as I still hold an affection for the days of the Atari and TG300, they were limited and as I reached my teens, I became increasingly frustrated with what I wasn’t able to do.

It wasn’t all down to the Triton, however. It was around the same time that I made the switch to Logic, developed as it was back then by Emagic. It wasn’t love at first sight, but as I was to find out, it would become something of a staple…

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A history of bedroom production – Part 1

It occurred to me the other day that I’ve been making music for over fifteen years. That’s quite a long time for what has (typically) been a solitary and (always) non-profitable affair.

I have therefore decided to document a brief history of my bedroom studio, foccusing both on its contents and my creative journey (ouch, sorry). This may only interest those with a similar passion, but it’s just something I’d like to put into words. My dad’ll like it, anyway.

So, partly to assist me with the postaweek challenge, but also to avoid hitting you with a mammoth blog post, I’ll be posting the whole story in parts over the next two or three weeks.

1992: Enter the Atari

Kit list: Atari ST, Cubase v1, Roland D5

Atari ST

The peerless Atari ST

“This is amazing. I don’t need an Amiga now,” I exclaimed as I fired up my second ever game of Brick Breaker on dad’s shiny new Atari ST.

The exact year escapes me, but it would have been some time around the early 90s when the Amiga 500 was the dour grey box that dominated my daily thoughts. It was the one thing I needed in my life. But then, suddenly, my imagination was captured by the unscheduled arrival of it’s weaker opponent (and I’m sure much to the delight of my Amiga’d-out parents).

Of course, this post isn’t one of gaming history therefore I digress. The real reason the Atari was sitting in front of me was for dad’s foray into the world of midi and production. At the time, his band, Gold, were all conquering on the wedding and club circuit and along with Geoff, the band’s guitarist, dad had decided to begin producing their own backing tracks, having previously relied on the adequate yet fiddly services of a Roland TR505 drum machine and an even more fiddly and complicated bass player.

The Atari was the perfect centrepiece for what would become our home’s first studio of sorts. Unlike anything else at the time, the Atari came with built-in midi ports, allowing you to easily connect your external sound sources. Unbelievably, this type of connectivity has only really been recently matched with the increased adoption of midi-over-USB on modern synths. Atari’s decision to include a midi port was as brave as Apple’s to get rid of the floppy disc drive. Shame it wasn’t as successful, as I think it’s reasonable to suggest we could have had built-in audio interfaces in desktop PCs if Atari had been as influential as Apple…

Initially, the sound sources in question consisted of a Roland D5 synth. The budget version of the D50 was absolutely nothing to write home about, but it provided the bare bones of drums, percussion, bass and strings that a band like Gold required.

CubaseThe Atari ran Cubase (version 1, I think), and proved to be my first ever experience of a computer-based sequencer.

I have no recollection of the first time I laid eyes on it, but I remember Geoff and dad spending countless hours inputting drum parts and bass lines. Their attention to detail was incredible and every part was note perfect (after a fair amount of swearing, they even managed to reproduce the over-indulged intro to Gloria Estefan’s Rhythm Is Gonna Get You) and not once did they fall back onto the lift music styled services of midi files.

Their enthusiasm obviously caught my eye and I soon asked to have a go myself. The very moment I first laid a hand on that awkwardly square mouse, I was hooked.

The D5 provided little sonic inspiration, as mentioned. But as a young boy I didn’t notice. I was just happy to bash keys, input my own drum loops by randomly entering notes on the drum grid and experiment with the exciting discovery of maximum pitch bend adjustment.

I can remember little of this early time and can only imagine the racket I must have been making, but it’s where it all started and I’ve not looked back since.

1994: Yamaha Inspires

Kit list: Atari ST, Cubase v1, Yamaha TG300, Roland D5

Yamaha TG300By the time I reached my teens, while I hadn’t yet learned to play an instrument (something I still regret to this day), I had developed a new found love for making music and continued to grab any chance I could on the Atari.

It wasn’t always a solitary affair, either. Recruiting the services of a couple of friends, we set about recording a ‘live album’. Of course, this wasn’t Woodstock. No, it was simply the trusty D5, a guitar amp and a tape recorder set up haphazardly in one of our garages, but the resulting song, Church Live, is fondly remembered, if not for it’s chorus of manically played, tuneless organ over the crushing sonic backdrop of aeroplane sound effects, but for the laugh we had making it. Another track, Irene Abbot, was also committed to tape at the same ‘session’. Inspired by a local MP who’s name and leaflet campaign gave us enough reason to record what I can only recall as, well… noise, it too rests soundly in the memories of our childhoods.

Just a shame we lost the tapes. Or maybe it isn’t, actually.

Meanwhile, in the world of Gold, the now seasoned production team of dad and Geoff were on the hunt for a better sonic palette. The D5 had served its course. 1994 was a golden era for synth modules with a flood of them appearing on the market. A few were tried and discarded before they eventually settled on the Yamaha TG300 (pictured). Almost the sole reason for its employment was a demo track which featured an entirely real-sounding acoustic guitar which wowed real-life guitarist Geoff particularly.

Of course, with midi-driven Cubase at the helm, they would only have access to the general midi sounds and not the program bank said guitar sat within. However, it was still a supersonic leap from the D5 and offered some very useable sounds along with internal effects such as reverb, chorus and flanger. It even had an onboard mixer with graphical display. It was like something out of Star Trek.

It was also an incredible workhorse. Not only was it the  primary sound source in the studio, it was also heavily gigged for years. An MDF (midi data filer) on stage sent the TG300 the duo’s hard work and it duly played it back without breaking a sweat. Smoky clubs, raucous weddings and yet more smoky clubs didn’t faze it and neither did my fiddling as sound man, regularly changing levels for the drum and bass parts via the LCD display. It never failed. Once.

Over the next couple of years, I continued to beat the thing to within an inch of its life. GM sounds are fairly unforgiving and of course can’t be messed with… unless you get creative with the effects and start doubling up tracks, which I set  about doing every moment I could get my hands on it.

It was during this period that I started to become what could loosely be described as ‘creative’, putting together relatively complex (for me) drum and rhythm tracks and constructing entire songs as opposed to a few bars of experimentation. My only regret is that I have no trace of these early works; committing anything to tape or CD in those days was ball achingly complicated. Well, ok, it wasn’t, but I did have to see my mates and play football occasionally.

Cubase continued to be centre stage and I’m yet to experience a sequencer or DAW which offers the same stability and ease of use that those early versions afforded. It was rock solid and even included features that are oddly absent from modern software. For example, the way you could turn your mouse pointer into a boot and ‘kick’ midi notes around was inspired and something I still wish I had access to today. Also, I’m yet to come across a better drum pattern arranger in any modern DAW.

Experimenting yet further, I even managed to successfully hook up a second midi device (a piano module neither dad or I can remember the name of) via the Alice In Wonderland-like world of midi thru. Suddenly, I had two boxes to make noises from. I felt like Trevor Horn.

Of course, in reality, setting this up for each track was about as enjoyable as knitting and I quickly abandoned. The dream of expanding beyond one sounce source seemed purely a fantasy back then…

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N…n…n…n…new plug-in courtesy of BT and iZotope

It’s taken it’s time. 15 years, if you believe what Mr BT (Brian Transeau) says.

Now, for the first time, you too can smash up, stutter, pan bounce and generally ear candy-ify your own musical creations, just like the king of show off dance himself.

Of course, BT almost single-handedly created the art of stutter, originally manipulating audio by hand; looping, crunching and warping wave forms to almost impossible 1/1024th note values and beyond.

It’s impressive stuff, if a little flashy and over indulged in some of his tracks (if you’ve reached this point and wonder what the hell I’m talking about, listen to the start of Suddenly for an example of these effects in action: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6XAtIjBCdg). That said, I occasionally reach certain stages of my own productions and think a nice little kick drum stutter or wildly panning and pitch bending string sound could spice things up a bit. I’ve tried – and failed – to manipulate the audio myself but it is, if truth be told, the kind of thing you’d only achieve if you had the patience of a saint and exactly zero friends.

So, it was with some excitement that I was directed (via Twitter, obviously) to iZotope’s newest addition to their product lineup.

Yes, for $149 you can become a bedroom BT.

They’ve teamed up with the man himself to finally bring his creation to life in an attractive plug-in format.

I’ve downloaded the trial and had a very brief play. The plug-in works in Logic as a midi-controlled AU. Insert it into an instrument channel, choose the piece of audio you wish to screw with via the side chain input and you’re away. Stutter Edit responds to key presses on your controller keyboard and gives you full control over what looks like ever parameter you could hope for.

In a quick thirty minute test, the results were indeed very impressive but it goes without saying that I need to spend more time with it. Due to it’s nature of relying on midi input and therefore recording key presses in order to trigger the effects, one minor criticism is that it could prove a little cumbersome and fiddly. We’ll see.

One thing it is sure to do, however, is work its way into the mainstream. I think this is inevitable. While it won’t be on par with the Autotune bandwagon, it’s apparent ease of use, instant gloss and low price means producers will quickly latch onto it. Mark my words, you’ll be hearing it stuttering away on Radio 1 in no time.

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Production Tip – Walk Away

FaderAnother quick, non-technical production tip, for anyone that cares to take notice of this section of my blog.

Anyone who makes music will know the eternal frustration that comes from listening to the same eight bars of a melody or bass line 300 times in a row. Those poor people living with bedroom producers will also be keenly aware of how hugely irritating this practice can be.

It’s easy to loose sight of what you’re doing or trying to achieve if you over-listen. Whilst it might seem necessary to loop those eight bars and jam over the top in an effort to inject a new lease of life into your first verse, it can also be very counterproductive.

Like many people, I’m always working on two or three tracks at any one time. As soon as I start to get frustrated with something, I’ll save it, bring up another project and move on. Leaving it to settle, even if only for a couple of hours, can work wonders. When you come back to it, it’ll sound fresh and you’ll instantly be inspired to add to it*.

Quite often, I’ll bounce a rough mix, or even just the basic outline of a track to MP3 and stick it on my iPod. Then, using the ‘I’m just going out to walk the dog’ excuse, I’ll get some fresh air and have a listen. It’s incredible how different a track can sound when you take it out of the studio. Just remember to make a mental note (particularly if you are dog walking) of any changes you need to make on your return.

Try it. Walk away from what you’re doing. Like a good bolognese, music needs some time to settle. Daft analogy, but true. Sort of.

*Very occasionally, it’ll sound like dog shit. In this case, consign it to your trash can – you were right in the first place.

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Opportunity Lost?

One of my biggest mistakes recently was to follow several producer/DJ types on Twitter. Every day, I’m bombarded with tweets informing me that, having woken up at a leisurely 9am, they’re going to ‘have a shower, grab some breakfast and head off to the studio for the day’.

I’m struggling to think of anything else I’d rather do for a living. I really am. Making music and being paid for doing so is about as good as it can get, as far as I’m concerned.

I love my current job, don’t get me wrong, and I’m one of the silent minority who enjoys coming to work; I don’t see it as a chore. That isn’t a disclaimer in case my boss is reading, either.

What depresses me slightly is the path the majority of these guys have taken to musical nirvana, as it is uncomfortably close to my past.

Like me, they have a parent who is a musician. Like me, they took the opportunity to bash around on said parent’s kit. Like me, they fell in love with midi and software such as Cubase at an early age. Like me, they spent an inordinate amount of their youth producing music for themselves.

Unlike me, they kept this up and went on to make a handsome living out of it.

In my late teens I made a very conscious (although difficult) decision to pursue a path in IT rather than music. The latter seemed a little too unattainable, if I’m honest, although that’s code for ‘I was too lazy to bother’. If I’d applied myself, I could have gone to university to study some form of music technology degree, or finance a college course off my own back. Instead, I ended up maintaining a computer network at a window and door component business in Daventry. Rock and roll.

Had I chosen my other path, there would have been significant differences in my personal life, which is worth bearing in mind. It’s unlikely I’d have met my girlfriend and I’d have a somewhat limited social life, as have the likes of Funkagenda, Dave Spoon and Chris Lake. So, perhaps I shouldn’t complain…

Makes you wonder what might have been though, doesn’t it…

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