January 2004

Chapter 1.  Credit. Creativity. & Crimes of the Conceited

The real deal about studio time and working with a star producer

By the time an artist gets into a studio, he or she should have been putting in work for years. The artist should also do some homework about the basics of studio production, what to expect from producers and that kind of thing. Well, that is, if this artist is expected to put out a product that anybody wants to hear (and with technology getting cheaper and faster this doesn’t always happen, but that is another chapter). With a lot of time in the trenches, a lot of thought and creativity, a lot of planning, a lot of listening and learning, and a lot of prayers from my Grandmother, the general verdict is that The Legend of AFRODITE is a good project – a really good project. Top notch. Most poetry CD's do not have its level of production, creativity, integrity, or dang-dats-hot groovitivty. Amen. You would think that a good project implies a good time in the studio. Allow me to debunk this myth.

conversation 1:

producer: i’m really looking forward to this. i’ve never done a project like this before, and i’ve heard a lot about you. i’m hoping to really learn something here.

artist: wow. thanks. i’m excited to finally be finishing this, you know, getting it done.

producer: cool. cool. i definitely have some other projects that could use a poet’s touch, so maybe we can talk about that, too. like i said, i’m really looking to learn something from you.

There is a hierarchy in the music world. I learned the basics on the underground by spending a lot of time with musicians and performers, and I learned the finer points when I got into the studio. From top dog to bottom slug: producer – musician – singer. “Singer” has now been divided into subcategories, and, of course, poets are on the very bottom. But I found myself even a bit lower than that because in the immortal words of James Brown, “This is a man’s world.”

In my dream life, when it comes to me as a performer, I would like to just be the artist. That’s it. I want to walk into a studio, do my thing and be done with it – give or take a few strategic conversations. I have a lot more credits on AFRODITE than I wanted. I had a friend get confused when he read them. He asked me if I had ghost writers. What? He had read my name along with other names under the production and music writing credits, and thought that meant other folks had helped write the lyrics. Nope. I wrote all the words – it does say so at the top (I was trying to conserve space and by putting it at the top, I only had to write it once. Yes, I was also the typesetter for AFRODITE) – but I ended up doing some of the production. Now, I am a humble-type chica, but if I could write music, lay down tracks and mix a CD, I’d be the first one to tell ya. I couldn’t then. I can now. I had to learn the hard way.

conversation 5:

artist: no. i really think you need to turn it down. for this type of project, the word is the most important.  the music is a distant second and any background singing is almost just extra.

producer: fine. whatever. i’ve been doing this for years. won a Grammy, but #%! it. if the poet wants to turn it down. we’ll turn it down.

artist: uh. okay. thanks.

I don’t want to paint producers as the evil dragons of the music kingdom. In fact, one of my producers (really a musician who ended up coordinating a few tracks) was truly instrumental in giving me that last push I needed to finish the project, and another was a nothing less than a Godsend and his work really polished off everything. But by and far, that was not my experience. I’m telling you some of these male producers have PMS, and they can’t handle it. They are unprofessional, and they don’t know it. They can’t read music and they think that’s irrelevant. And most importantly, they believe that the artist is nothing without them.

AFRODITE was a three-year journey. By the time I had began the last leg of this trip, I had acquired quite a bit of studio knowledge – as the executive producer, that was my job. I don’t claim to know all the details, and no, my degree in engineering is not the least bit helpful, but I am technology-friendly and a fast learner. On top of that, until the producers figure out there is a brain that comes with These Hips, they are real big on sitting me close to the boards and explaining all the buttons and software. So by the time I met Producer X, I was a very informed artist.

conversation 13:

artist: whoa! what is that sound? no… the feel of this piece is very organic and…

producer: look. can you just chill out and let me do my damn job? i’m just testing stuff out. nothing is definite this is just the way it’s done.

artist: (deep breathing) i’m really just trying to help you out – i know what this piece sounds like from the inside out. i don’t want you putting in 30 minutes to perfect a sound that i will cut later. you can take your time, but i don’t want you to waste your time, that’s all.

producer: oh. now you don’t want me to waste my time? i’m up in here trying to make your project work and you got chatter every 2 minutes, but you don’t want to waste my time? i’m trying to add things to make your $#!& top-notch…

artist: uh. okay. let me try to explain again. see, the poem is about her transformation into a natural black…

producer: look here, poet, this is my reputation we’re talking about. i don’t want my name on any bull$#!&. are you going to let me do what i do or not?

It all started out so beautifully. Producer X was excited about the project; I was grateful to have a highly recommended producer. (Note to self: Get recommendations from more than one person.) Our initial sessions were friendly, even if a bit unproductive. I took all the session visitors, phone calls and late starts with a grain of salt. After all, I did just enter into his schedule at a very busy time and he was willing to squeeze me in.

But then I began to notice things. Producer X wasn’t always so difficult to work with. I noticed that his demeanor and attitude towards the other musicians he worked with was not so antagonistic. He actually considered the opinions of his male artists. And when he worked with other females, it was all good as long as they were deferential. Oh hell. Houston we have a problem. Just when I thought I should perhaps check my attitude at the door and just go with the flow like the other girlies, I noticed some other things. I didn’t know the complete ins-and-outs of production, but after three years of AFRODITE, I had already worked with people who did. Producer X was not as good as he thought he was. Producer X was cutting up on my project. And Producer X was getting downright evil.

Then it happened. It was 2 a.m. in the middle of the week. I’m getting tired. He’s getting mean and sensitive. Bam. He crossed the line. And I had to shut him down.

(conversation 13 cont’d)

artist: wait a minute. i thought you were in this project to learn something. didn’t you say you didn’t know anything about producing poetry and spoken word? i do. i’m just trying to…

producer: whatever. this ain’t about what i don’t know – this is about what i do know. and about my name. i don’t want folks looking at this, seeing my name and thinking it’s bull$#!&.

artist: (counting to ten) that is not a problem. i got two words for you: executive producer. your name will not be anywhere near that phrase. you are not the executive producer. i am. you don’t know anything about poetry or its audience. i do. you do not sign the checks for this project i do. so if there is a disagreement about mixing, music, instrumentation, or vocals, i take your informed opinion – because that is your job and yes, that is what you do. but you don’t make the final decision. i do. take the sound out.

producer: (pause) pssh. fine.

It was a horrible, stressful, unnecessarily bitter experience that lasted about three months. Yes, Producer X – the one that didn’t know squat about poetry or spoken word – started calling my project names. In real life, I am quite the softy but nobody, and I mean nobody, messes with my poetry. And if I wasn’t such a lady, I would have put his shiznitt on blast in every chat room and on every list serve that I belong to, every concert I gave and every open mic I rolled in on. But I don’t get down like that, so I simply closed up shop.

I was too through with megalomaniac producers at that point to go in search of another one. So, I bought some music software, a mixing program and got to work. What a good producer could have done in two hours, probably took me two months. But not having to deal with the lack of respect was well worth it.

In the end, I surprised myself and was very pleased with the tracks that I created the music for and mixed down. I was able to fix some of the mistakes Producer X made, but not all of them. Hell, that’s why they call it a debut CD, right? All in all, I was happy with my new baby. And I never want to give birth like that again. Sure it’s possible to do everything on a CD, and it works for some folks, but it’s not what I want. As a poet, I want my priority to be the writing, the spirit and the message. I don’t like it when my attention is divided the way it is when I’m also musician, trackmaster and sound engineer.

I will always be an executive producer of my projects because the poetry CD thing is new and improved and I’ve got as much experience with it as anyone else out there right now, so why not? But my advice to everyone poet and non-poet alike going into the studio: Get yourself a middle-man. Every artist needs someone in the studio with him or her that can play the heavy, and be the bad guy when Producer X rears his God-complex. (Yes, even for the brothers. The female thing only subdivides the hierarchy – it doesn’t change it.) That way the sanity of the artist, and his or her relationship with Producer X is maintained. You can even play the pitiful artist role. Well you know, my manager gets a bit out of control, but this is why she’s here, so I’m just going to go with what she says, you know? I hope this doesn’t affect our relationship, Producer X. Do what you gotta do. The middle-man should be someone in your corner, who meets with you outside of the studio and is very familiar with your work, your spirit and your goals as an artist. This person is often also called an executive producer, or a co-executive producer. Basically their job is to get Producer X (of which there may be several for a given CD) to do what you want him to do.

Or you can just go out there and find a producer without PMS. Good luck.

One,

jahipster