Post by Jules on Nov 23, 2016 14:04:35 GMT
Steven talks to MINT magazine about collecting vinyl LPs, on vinyl vs. CD (the magazine explicitly caters to vinyl lovers) and remixing classic albums.
The interesting part is the actual interview where they ask him about the differences between remastering and remixing, the Loudness Wars and certain albums he’s been working on. It starts with King Crimson, then it’s about Jethro Tull and finally about Yes’ Tales from Topographic Oceans. And then… (All translation from the German magazine done by me, I'm sure there are inaccuracies)
[…] It took me one and a half years to sort out this chaos.
But not all in one go?
Heaven forbid! With interruptions. Otherwise I’d have gone crazy.
So it can’t be worse than Tales From Topographic Oceans?
Yes, it does! The Seeds of Love by Tears For Fears, that’s the pinnacle of craziness. The album was recorded across a time period of three years, and there are countless takes for every song. It was recorded with three different 24-tracks that they had synchronised. That makes 72 channels in total, and most tracks were indeed used. Additionally, the final master wasn’t in the hands of one person in charge – it was created by various engineers in various studios from recordings of various sessions. When I became aware of this dimension, I nearly capitulated. I already had the receiver in my hand to call the label and say: “Sorry folks, I can’t do this.”
Amazing how such a patchwork can still sound so good and cohesive.
A miracle! I'd even go so far to say that Seeds of Love, besides Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, is the best-sounding album of all times. Even so, you’re at first looking at the black side when you are presented with a song like Year Of The Knife: 72 tracks full of sound, and once you’ve actually sorted and correctly placed all that, when you have untangled this endless jumble, you’ve only done the first part of the work. After all, there are no effects on the tracks yet, nothing is faded in or out, and the levels of the instruments aren’t adjusted to each other yet. Everything has to be reconstructed.
[…]
You’ve just spoken of the magic of music. Does one come closer to that when one has such a deep insight into the development like you? Does one listen to an album like In The Court Of The Crimson King differently, when one dissects it into its component parts? Or does it actually do the opposite and take away the magic?
Apart from Emerson, Lake & Palmer I like all the albums I’ve remixed even more since then. Does that enable me to explain the magic that happens on them? No, quite the contrary: When one deconstructs and re-composes such albums, it makes it only more obvious that the impact of music is essentially unfathomable. You hear the individual elements and maybe think: Okay, the guitar here is played really sloppily, the bass is a bit out of tune, and that drum break – not very elegant. But then you fit all the pieces together and marvel: Wow! Suddenly everything makes sense. And yet, you cannot explain it. Nobody can, least of all the musicians that have recorded these albums. Otherwise they’d simply be continuing, they’d record one masterpiece after another. But ask them, they’ll all shrug their shoulders, Roland Orzabal from Tears For Fears just like Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull. Ask Robert Fripp why of all albums, In The Court Of The Crimson King has become this classic, the super-album – he doesn’t have the foggiest idea!
What do you think?
I think it has a lot to do with chemistry, with personal and also historical circumstances. There were several bands that on paper would have been more talented than The Beatles, Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin. But they haven’t recorded these albums. You can analyse it to death – you won’t ever completely understand it. Creativity is a mystery.
For you as a musician as well?
Definitely. Particularly for me. Nothing is more difficult for me than songwriting. To form something from nothing, to get something substantial out of creativity. There is no secret recipe, no method that works in every case. The task of newly mixing a Tears For Fears song from 72 tracks can drive you insane. But in the end it’s in fact a pushover compared to the challenge of writing a new song.
There is also a photo of Steven in front of his computer, the screen showing the 72 tracks of “Year of the Knife”, or at least those that fitted on the screen‼
The interesting part is the actual interview where they ask him about the differences between remastering and remixing, the Loudness Wars and certain albums he’s been working on. It starts with King Crimson, then it’s about Jethro Tull and finally about Yes’ Tales from Topographic Oceans. And then… (All translation from the German magazine done by me, I'm sure there are inaccuracies)
[…] It took me one and a half years to sort out this chaos.
But not all in one go?
Heaven forbid! With interruptions. Otherwise I’d have gone crazy.
So it can’t be worse than Tales From Topographic Oceans?
Yes, it does! The Seeds of Love by Tears For Fears, that’s the pinnacle of craziness. The album was recorded across a time period of three years, and there are countless takes for every song. It was recorded with three different 24-tracks that they had synchronised. That makes 72 channels in total, and most tracks were indeed used. Additionally, the final master wasn’t in the hands of one person in charge – it was created by various engineers in various studios from recordings of various sessions. When I became aware of this dimension, I nearly capitulated. I already had the receiver in my hand to call the label and say: “Sorry folks, I can’t do this.”
Amazing how such a patchwork can still sound so good and cohesive.
A miracle! I'd even go so far to say that Seeds of Love, besides Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, is the best-sounding album of all times. Even so, you’re at first looking at the black side when you are presented with a song like Year Of The Knife: 72 tracks full of sound, and once you’ve actually sorted and correctly placed all that, when you have untangled this endless jumble, you’ve only done the first part of the work. After all, there are no effects on the tracks yet, nothing is faded in or out, and the levels of the instruments aren’t adjusted to each other yet. Everything has to be reconstructed.
[…]
You’ve just spoken of the magic of music. Does one come closer to that when one has such a deep insight into the development like you? Does one listen to an album like In The Court Of The Crimson King differently, when one dissects it into its component parts? Or does it actually do the opposite and take away the magic?
Apart from Emerson, Lake & Palmer I like all the albums I’ve remixed even more since then. Does that enable me to explain the magic that happens on them? No, quite the contrary: When one deconstructs and re-composes such albums, it makes it only more obvious that the impact of music is essentially unfathomable. You hear the individual elements and maybe think: Okay, the guitar here is played really sloppily, the bass is a bit out of tune, and that drum break – not very elegant. But then you fit all the pieces together and marvel: Wow! Suddenly everything makes sense. And yet, you cannot explain it. Nobody can, least of all the musicians that have recorded these albums. Otherwise they’d simply be continuing, they’d record one masterpiece after another. But ask them, they’ll all shrug their shoulders, Roland Orzabal from Tears For Fears just like Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull. Ask Robert Fripp why of all albums, In The Court Of The Crimson King has become this classic, the super-album – he doesn’t have the foggiest idea!
What do you think?
I think it has a lot to do with chemistry, with personal and also historical circumstances. There were several bands that on paper would have been more talented than The Beatles, Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin. But they haven’t recorded these albums. You can analyse it to death – you won’t ever completely understand it. Creativity is a mystery.
For you as a musician as well?
Definitely. Particularly for me. Nothing is more difficult for me than songwriting. To form something from nothing, to get something substantial out of creativity. There is no secret recipe, no method that works in every case. The task of newly mixing a Tears For Fears song from 72 tracks can drive you insane. But in the end it’s in fact a pushover compared to the challenge of writing a new song.
There is also a photo of Steven in front of his computer, the screen showing the 72 tracks of “Year of the Knife”, or at least those that fitted on the screen‼