Trusting your ears

It’s important to assess the state of the canvas. Listening to a PA in some capacity (virtual soundcheck, reference tracks, your voice or someone else’s) establishes that landscape and gives you direction on what needs to be processed to accomplish precision.

Some suggestions for what to listen for are below. This isn’t a rule, but these are some things that have helped me. Thousands of hours of listening and experimentation has occurred for me to reach a point where I can confidently be aware of them when I listen.

• The response of the vocal; how do certain consonants or vowels feel when the artist is talking or speaking.
• Kick drum tonality, but also impact and the kick to bass relationship.
• Texture and depth between the instrumentation. Is the vocal or lead instrument boxier today, or is the compression or saturation more noticeable or unpleasant than it typically is?
• How does the balance of the highs in relationship to the tonal shape of the PA feel? Where do I hear this in the mix?
• Listening to the effect of the room as you walk is also important. What is boominess or reverb doing to the sound?
• If I add more mids, will it cut through a washy and expansive room without compromising the tonality and making it feel honky or barky?

An easy starting point for when you’re in a pinch is this graphic provided by Rational Acoustics.

https://www.rationalacoustics.com/pages/the-7-bad-system-dwarves

Some of the points above also aren’t resolved with simply an EQ on the system, but can help me be aware of what I may hear during the show. If the issue is critical, I can make adjustments to the mix as needed.

Reference tracks are dependent on you and what you want to listen for. Three that I’ll come back to frequently include

• “If I Ever Lose Faith In You,” by Sting
•  “Ship of Fools,” by Robert Plant
•  “End of my Rope,” by Misterwives.

The most reliable means of analysis for me, however, is multitrack recording, or virtual playback, however this is not always available.

Other notes

Smaart has been used to analyze the system, and an SE has already optimized the system, or I have confirmed it’s ready and have tuned myself. From this point on, my target curve is serving as a guide and a starting point. It is frequently accurate, but occasionally depending on the environment or the voicing of a different box, I still need to make adjustments. I guess I could boil this down to the simple fact that at the end of the day, I’m listening to what my ears are telling me and not just relying on the data to be correct. I can infer that it might be close, but so many factors can mean we need to adjust.

I’ll listen to the PA, walking everywhere I possibly can and taking into consideration what the audience is listening to, and what they’re listening for. If I can use virtual soundcheck, I prefer to use that so I can have the most accurate translation of the show. Sometimes tuning to a record doesn’t account for considerations in the mix or the live arrangement of the music. I also frequently want to take liberties with the music, and playback has helped me accomplish this. Much of this process does involve dialogue with the systems engineer, depending on whether I’m trying to continue tuning or just shaping the tone of the system. To this point, my target curve isn’t the end all, be all. It gets me and my SE in the ballpark and oftentimes lets me establish the low end and HF slope I need to accomplish a starting point for the day.

I think it’s also important to note that my target curve for one artist isn’t always appropriate for all. Genre, arrangement, and dynamics have influenced this for me in the past, but that’s a conversation for a later discussion.

My final means of achieving consistency lie in reading SPL meters. Today I’ll just point you in the direction of some fantastic reading on this subject, but later will dive into my own perspective and understanding. Later, I hope to discuss how my target curve and SPL go hand in hand to help me maintain that consistency.

Further and more scientific reading

On the Level, Katie Karch: https://www.prosoundweb.com/on-the-level-understanding-applying-spl-measurements/

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This might seem like a contradiction. Indeed, it’s something I’ve been asked about a lot. Even my own dad asked me recently how I’m able to go to concerts if I find sound that difficult to deal with. But what a lot of people don’t understand is that I’m not averse to all sounds; just unwanted sounds. To me, there is a big difference between enjoying my favourite music and having to hear the roar of a motorbike as it passes me in the street (I use this example because it is probably the sound I hate most in the world). It’s not always about the volume. Sometimes it is, but more often it’s about things like frequency, whether there are multiple sounds overlapping, or whether the sound is sudden and unexpected. My brain also has difficulty filtering out particular sounds and focusing on others. If I’m in a busy café, for instance, and the coffee machine is making noise, the radio is on and there are two or three different conversations happening in close proximity while someone is trying to talk to me, there is no way I’m going to be able to focus on what they are saying. It’s all happening at equal intensity, which can be very overwhelming.

Of course, not all autistic people experience sound in the same way. Some may be under-sensitive to it, or not particularly sensitive at all. This is just how I personally experience it.

Having this particular sensory profile isn’t a wholly negative thing, though. I fully believe it makes me a better audio engineer. As with most things, there are pros and cons.

Pros

• When mixing, I’m quick to notice frequencies and noises that need to be removed, sometimes when others don’t hear them.
• Because of my sensitivity, I tend to be able to mix at lower levels and am highly conscious of things being too loud, thus protecting my hearing in the long-term.

Cons

• I can be quite a perfectionist, to the point where I hyper-focus on sounds that the average listener probably won’t pick up on anyway.
• Sometimes finding things too loud can actually be a disadvantage, as I’m not always sure whether it actually is too loud or if it’s just my own perception of it. This is where it’s helpful for me to seek a second opinion (but it needs to be from someone who understands audio, as most people tend to believe louder is always better, which obviously is not the case).

When I first started studying sound, we were taught not to rely too heavily on the visual representations within the DAW we were using, i.e. looking at the sound wave for imperfections rather than really listening. This obviously makes sense, as you have to develop a good ear to be able to do this kind of work. However, I also have to admit to being a visual kind of editor. I will of course use my ears first and foremost, and have gotten into the habit over the years of closing my eyes when listening through something repeatedly. But I do love using the spectral frequency display in Audition, and have learnt what to look out for when I want to remove something. I do think my autistic brain is partly responsible for this, as I’m definitely drawn to patterns, especially visual ones. But I have to admit to feeling guilty about working this way, until I read an autistic person’s account of learning to use audio editing software to work on wildlife recordings they’d gathered, and realised that this seems to be a common way of doing things when you’re neurodivergent. They said they had learnt to recognise what bird calls ‘looked like’ in comparison to unwanted sounds like car horns and sirens. I realised then that we tend to get too hung up on the ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ way to do these things. If we get good results in ways that work for our individual brains, that’s what’s important.

For anyone out there who has a fascination with sound, but may be wondering if their sensory profile will allow them to work with it, the answer is: absolutely. It might take a few adjustments to work in a way that’s comfortable for you and allows you to prevent overload, but it can be done, and you can be really, really good at it.

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Aesthetic Noise: The Philosophy of Intentional Listening is an expansion of Mazurek’s doctoral dissertation.  Dr. Mary Mazurek is an assistant professor at the University of Lethbridge, a GRAMMY-nominated recording engineer, the DEI Chair of AES, and interdisciplinary artist, among other important positions.  In transforming her dissertation into a book, Mazurek brings her expertise and tests her theories through her students.  Aesthetic Noise is a challenging philosophic read because words are defined in context, but it is rewarding in enlightenment and can apply to more than just sonic “noise.”

Mazurek guides us through the various lenses of philosophy and psychology to define beauty and art.  We then use them to view noise and the contexts where it can be deemed useful and beauteous. We are still allowed to dislike listening to noise, manipulated or otherwise, but we are given the chance to change our minds.  We are invited to explore the works of those who are creating noise as a medium of expression.  Mazurek provides examples like Sun O))), Steve Reich, Alyce Santoro and Alison Knowles as a starting point, and a program to prepare us for the experience.

For those who have not given noise a chance, it might seem coincidental that I had mentioned Steve Reich, and that Mazurek dedicates several thought experiments to his works.  However I want to highlight Reich’s music as a starting point into aesthetic noise for several reasons.  His work is about human justice, and his work (or at least the examples in Aesthetic Noise) uses human speech.  Unlike the drones of Sun O))), speech is something that we are used to dedicating attention to.  Come Out and Different Trains are both still as relevant as when they were first created.  The first using a recording of Daniel Hamm, one of the Harlem Six, a victim of police brutality.  The latter piece compared rail travel of Reich’s youth to similar aged individuals who had rode rail cars during the Holocaust.  The trauma brought out by both, and the political stances they represent are somehow more controversial in public discourse than Martin Heidegger and Julia Kristeva (also represented in this book).  Dr. Mazurek does focus on the message, biography, and impact of Reich’s work, but does not add any outside context to the philosophers whose theories she uses to define art and beauty.  It is assumed their names, their philosophical movements, and other background information is known.  And maybe, that is a failure on my part, being not the intended audience of post-graduate students of arts and philosophy.

Looking past that Mazurek uses Kristeva and Heidegger in addition to other philosophers like Jacques Derrida, and Aristotle to give noise a chance to be beautiful.  In Aesthetic Noise we view noise as truth and revealing, noise in context and through a frame of reference, noise as ugliness to bring about a release of emotion.  It is a positive conclusion, and yet it still allows a possibility for its rejection from art.  Mazurek also allows the definition of noise to stretch beyond the sonic realm.  By using interdisciplinary performances like Happenings and Event Scores (although her examples still use sonic noise as a connecting thread) the possibility of her philosophy can be expanded to cover other mediums of noise.

Aesthetic Noise is more than Advanced Music Appreciation. It is a bridge between the neuroscience of This is What It Sounds Like by Susan Rogers and the manifesto of An Individual Note by Daphne Oram.  It is part of the canon to redefine what music composition and art can look like.  Included is a post-graduate syllabus of Mazurek’s own Aesthetic Noise class, for those that want to challenge themselves.  The appendices of Aesthetic Noise will help those who are more visual or aural learners with playlists, book lists, and references.  Also included are the notes from Mazurek’s experience of teaching class, which applies the philosophy to the layperson directly.  Although my ears already enjoy aesthetic noise, I feel that I can now dissect my tastes with greater precision.

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This change reflects the way music is now made. Tracks are often written and developed across multiple sessions, with different studios used for different parts: vocals in one place, drums in another, strings or additional production elsewhere. It’s not necessarily about squeezing things in, though that does happen, but about fitting into a more collaborative, fast-moving, and constantly evolving way of working.

From Start-to-Finish to Piece-by-Piece

Albums and singles are rarely built in one studio from start to finish anymore. Instead, what’s more common is a song coming together over time, through different sessions that may be spread across studios, weeks, or tour dates. An artist might record vocals in a studio between shows. A band may track drums in one studio, then book a different space for overdubs when schedules allow.

This approach has developed in part because of how collaborative music has become. Many songs today have multiple writers and producers. Coordinating everyone’s availability, especially when artists are also performing, promoting, or working on several projects, means the idea of a single, long session is less practical than it used to be.

Studios now play a more modular role in the process. One session might be used to get vocals down, another for backing vocals or edits, and another for live instrumentation or arrangement work. It’s a puzzle being assembled in stages, with sessions booked to capture specific parts as needed.

The Role of Personal Studios

Another reason for the shift is the increased accessibility of professional-grade equipment. Many producers and artists now have their own studio setups that are more than capable of handling large parts of the creative process, including writing, programming, editing, and even mixing.

This means they don’t need to book a commercial space for every part of the project. Instead, they’re more likely to use professional studios for the parts they can’t easily do themselves, such as recording drums, cutting final vocals, or capturing instruments that require high-end rooms, mic collections, or specialist engineers.

As personal studios have become more capable, professional sessions have become more focused. People come in knowing exactly what they need to do, and studios have adapted to support that kind of workflow.

More Studio Options Than Ever

At the same time, the same advances in technology that have made personal studios possible have also lowered the barrier for commercial studio setups. Many professional studios are now building leaner, more affordable spaces, often purpose-built for vocals, overdubs, or writing sessions, without compromising on quality.

This has opened up more options for artists and producers working on tighter timelines or smaller budgets. Not every session needs a large-format console and live room. Sometimes a well-treated vocal booth with a great signal chain is exactly what’s needed.

And because so many of these newer, more specialised studios operate under the radar, they can be hard to find, especially in a hurry.

That’s where services like ProStudioTime have started playing a role, giving artists and teams a way to connect with studios that fit specific session needs. In a landscape where schedules move quickly and options are increasingly varied, being able to line up the right space at the right time has become part of the workflow itself.

Booking and Discovery Are Evolving Too

In this environment, being able to find and book a suitable studio quickly is crucial. The old system of outdated directories, emails, and calls still lingers, but it’s starting to shift. Artists, producers, and managers often need to make decisions fast, based on availability, location, and what the session requires, whether that’s a solid vocal chain, a good live room, or just a quiet, focused space to get something done.

The more tools that exist to streamline this process, the more efficiently teams can build, adjust, and execute recording plans that align with an increasingly fast-paced release cycle.

What This Means for Studio Professionals

For engineers, studio managers, and producers, all of this means adapting to a more agile way of working. Sessions might be shorter, but they’re no less important and often part of bigger projects with tight timelines.

Communication, preparation, and clarity around what a session is aiming to achieve have become even more important. The engineer might be jumping in halfway through a track’s journey, so being able to work quickly and confidently without always having full context is a valuable skill.

At the same time, this shift has opened up more opportunities. Because music is being made continuously, and in more places, there are more chances to contribute, whether that’s handling a one-off tracking session, setting up for a writing camp, or helping an artist finish a last-minute mix pass before release day.

Looking Ahead

The core of the studio session hasn’t changed. It’s still about getting the best performance in the right environment. What has changed is the shape it takes, the time-frame, the workflow, and the role it plays in a broader, often multi-location creative process.

Whether you’re running a commercial facility, freelancing as an engineer, or working as part of an artist’s wider team, understanding how sessions are evolving helps you stay relevant, responsive, and ready to support the way music is being made now.

Guest Post for SoundGirls.org
Sam Rudy is a London‑based studio specialist and entrepreneur who lives and breathes recording spaces. As the founder of Pro Studio Time, Sam helps artists, managers and labels book the perfect studio anywhere in the world—fast, transparently and hassle‑free. Before launching his own platform, Sam spent over a decade at Miloco Studios, rising to Studio Manager and overseeing a roster of 160+ world‑class rooms, including London stand‑outs such as The Church Studios, Sleeper Sounds and Baltic Studios. While completing his master’s degree, Sam carried out policy research: in 2015 his thesis “Blank Media Levies … Who Pays?” was published by the now‑defunct MusicTank; he was subsequently invited by Hypebot to write an op‑ed expanding on its findings.A lifelong music obsessive and occasional DJ, Sam is happiest where great acoustics, analogue gear and good coffee meet. When he isn’t matching clients with studios, you’ll find him tending to his allotment, swapping patch cables for pumpkin seedlings.

The post How Studio Sessions Are Evolving: A Modern Look at Creativity, Collaboration, and Access appeared first on SoundGirls.org.

Tech Week

This period of time has also been nicknamed Hell Week, which is one of the first things I discovered on my arrival into the drama school world. Doesn’t sound promising, does it? In fact, a quick look at the Wikipedia entry for ‘Technical week’ reveals this information, and there’s also a ‘Controversy’ section which tells you the following:

“…the common daily schedule during this week is the ‘10 out of 12’ schedule, in which the members of the production will be actively working for ten hours out of the twelve hour shifts.”

The sources cited here are referring to theatre in the United States, but it’s also a problem in the UK. As has been pointed out elsewhere, these are long enough days for actors, but designers and technicians are almost always expected to stay even later into the night. And, as I have learnt over the past year, this isn’t just the case in professional theatre. Students are also putting in extremely long shifts.

There have been times where I’ve arrived home 18 hours after leaving, had just enough time for a quick shower before going straight to bed, then up again after five or six hours of sleep to do it all over again. I’ve seen people wolf down snacks while operating a desk rather than take an hour-long lunch break because things were deemed to be running behind. I’ve been in situations where stomachs are rumbling and energy levels are low, only for “let’s power through” to be the message. I’ve also found that, during tech, it becomes almost impossible to cook proper meals due to lack of time and resources. If it can’t be reheated in a microwave, it’s not an option, and you might even find yourself living on takeaways for a week or two (which isn’t ideal health-wise).

This kind of relentless schedule obviously isn’t good for anyone. I’ve recently seen some articles pop up in theatre publications about the impact on parents and carers, which is clearly a really important issue, but these discussions seem to be centred on performers, directors and producers rather than including technicians. And I’ve seen almost nothing about disabled or neurodivergent backstage workers. There seems to be a general reluctance to acknowledge the presence of techs with disabilities, while at the same time talking about the importance of a diverse workforce. But if we really want to make sure everyone feels welcome in theatre, we have to start practicing what we preach, and taking care of the issues surrounding tech would be an excellent place to start.

I will be completely honest. As an autistic sound technician, I have felt isolated, frustrated and let down on quite a few occasions. I have felt like my needs are not accommodated, and worse, that they don’t matter. People might say, “That’s just what tech is like: deal with it.” And people have said that. They might think changing their minds at the last minute about what time we can all leave the building isn’t a big deal. But to someone like me, who has carefully structured their entire daily routine and meal choices around the information they’ve been given, it is a very big deal and can lead to dysregulation. When such things are happening over a sustained period of time, they can even lead to burnout (and did for me, after one particular show).

Boundaries are a big issue for a lot of us, and it can be incredibly challenging to speak up and say you don’t feel comfortable with something, especially when you’re new in the industry or feel like there’s no one who will back you up. In an industry where freelancing is the norm, it’s unfortunately all too common for people to be afraid of “rocking the boat” because they may lose out on work. The attitude is: “Well, if you won’t do it, then we’ll find someone who will.” But we will only be able to move away from such attitudes if more and more people speak out against them.

If there’s one phrase I’ve become tired of hearing, it’s: “That’s just the way things are done.” And more often than not, it’s been said about tech (often accompanied with a smile when bandying around terms like ‘Hell Week’). But it really doesn’t have to be that way. Hard work and productivity doesn’t — and shouldn’t — have to come at a cost to our physical and mental health.

The post We Need To Talk About Tech appeared first on SoundGirls.org.

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We were divided into two groups and assigned roles on either Sweeney Todd or The Witches of Eastwick. This was dependent on the proposals we submitted, stating our case for wanting to work on a particular show. I chose Sweeney Todd partly because of my interest in the story and the period in which it’s set, but I also wanted to challenge myself as much as possible. Sondheim is known for his complex musical arrangements and the songs in Sweeney Todd are notoriously difficult to perform. While this made the prospect of mixing the show pretty daunting, it was a great opportunity to put everything I learned this year into practice.

In the rehearsal room, I began the process of mentally figuring out how to balance the vocals. There are a lot of overlapping parts, and in fact one of the most taxing moments of the show also ended up being my favourite: ‘Kiss Me (Part II)’, sung by Anthony, Johanna, Judge Turpin and the Beadle. There is so much going on at a fast pace, and you really have to concentrate hard to follow the script. With so many different words being sung at the same time, it’s also really important to make sure each individual character can be heard clearly and that no one is drowned out. In addition, our production had only one male cast member, which meant finding the right balance between three female voices and one male voice (when originally this song would have been sung by three male voices and one female). All of this meant that, when it went right, it was immensely satisfying.

One of the other things that really appealed to me about Sweeney Todd was the news that our musical director would be using an amazing piece of orchestral software called Sinfonia. This allowed him to essentially be a one-man band while conducting the cast, and it was incredible to watch and to mix. It was certainly a challenge I embraced, as I had worked with tracks in QLab on my previous two shows, so it was good to have a different experience.

Another element I really enjoyed was using reverb. I’d done some research on past productions and was fascinated by how Broadway sound designer Nevin Steinberg used reverb creatively. While we obviously didn’t copy this approach, it did give us a few ideas. Our director encouraged us to have fun with reverb for the screams in the more violent scenes, and that’s exactly what we did. One particular scene involving a character being thrown into an oven was really exciting because everything came together so well: the reverb, the lighting and silhouette, the tension in the musical underscore.

That’s ultimately what I’ve loved most about mixing shows this year: the teamwork involved in bringing everything together and creating something that audiences walk out of saying, “That was brilliant.” Of course there were the usual technical difficulties and stresses, but the final show couldn’t have gone better. It was a sell-out audience, my family were there (the first time they’d ever seen one of my shows, which was really special) and everything sounded great and ran unbelievably smoothly (rare but wonderful!). It was an experience I’ll remember for a long time to come.

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As the prospect of moderate sunburn, balmy nights, and attempting to shimmy like Mick Jagger through hordes of people beckons me for another year, I find myself thinking about how deeply music ties into memory. It’s not just about the songs we love – it’s about the way they hold onto our experiences. It’s funny how a sound or a song you haven’t thought about in years can instantly bring back a place, a feeling, and a version of yourself you might have forgotten.

These moments aren’t just nostalgia or a natural part of getting older – they’re a form of emotional time travel. And festivals, in all their chaotic glory, seem to generate these memories more powerfully than almost anything else.

It turns out, there are scientific reasons why these events are emotionally charged and feel so good when we partake in, and later reminisce about them. So, whether you’re working, performing at, or attending festivals this year, the chances are you’ll experience some of the benefits they have to offer.

The Festival Effect

Festivals offer more than just music – they create a full sensory experience. For many of us, they are the largest events of the entire year, and we can find ourselves suddenly surrounded by thousands of people, powerful lights, unpredictable weather, movement, and intense levels of sound.

All of this contributes to a kind of heightened awareness, which is a key factor in making memories stick. Dr. Daniel Levitin, a cognitive psychologist and author of the fascinating book This Is Your Brain on Music, explains:

“The more sensory input and emotional weight a moment has, the more deeply it gets encoded”. 

And it’s not just the big headline sets with all the bells and whistles that stay with you. There are numerous benefits to experiencing the smaller moments in these environments, which can contribute to the positive effects on both the body and mind.

Physical Effects

We know that music has a profound ability to foster connection among individuals, especially in group settings. Research shows that shared musical experiences enhance social bonds, promote empathy, and contribute to a sense of community.

When we engage in musical activities together, it can lead to increased feelings of closeness among the participants. We literally release endorphins and oxytocin in our bodies, which are the neurochemicals associated with pleasure and social bonding.

Another intriguing physical byproduct of festivals is synchronization. Synchronizing movements with others, like when we are singing and dancing in unison, can blur the lines between self and others, leading to a heightened sense of group identity. This phenomenon, often referred to as “self-other merging”, is believed to be a mechanism that’s enhanced by environments like music festivals.

Mental Health Benefits

As well as the physical, measurable effects, it’s also been proven that the collective experience of enjoying live performances fosters a sense of unity and belonging – it basically reduces feelings of loneliness while promoting psychological well-being. The improvements to the mental health of attendees in scientific studies show that festivals can also be hugely beneficial for our moods as well as our bodies.

In a practical sense, the combination of music, social interaction, and a break from the daily grind of our usual routine can of course, all contribute to these therapeutic effects felt in the body and mind, but ultimately, the magic really lies in the emotional and physical experiences we have in the moment.

Why Music Triggers Strong Memories

There’s a reason hearing a song from a past summer can take you back years in an instant. According to Dr. Amee Baird, a clinical neuropsychologist and author of Music and Dementia:

“Music can access autobiographical memories because of the way it engages both the emotional and memory centers of the brain.” 

The hippocampus (which deals with memory) and the amygdala (which processes emotion) both respond strongly to music, especially when we’re already emotionally activated, like at a festival.

Later on, those songs become tools. You might put on a playlist you made that summer and find yourself remembering things you hadn’t thought about in years. This phenomenon has been studied in Alzheimer’s patients, and it’s been discovered that even people with severe memory loss could recall events when they heard personally significant music.

And it’s not just about looking back – music also helps us carry something forward. Listening to past festival anthems can ground you when life feels unrecognisable, or energise you when you need a reminder of who you are.

The Music That Stays With Us

What’s striking is how long these sounds last. Long after the tents are packed up and your wellies are dry, the music remains. It plays quietly in the background of your life, showing up from time to time through the years that follow.

As musician and producer Brian Eno once said:

“Stop thinking about art works as objects, and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences.”

That’s exactly what festival music is. It’s not just entertainment – it’s a collection of emotional markers, each one tied to a moment in time when you felt something real.

Festival Season 2025

Every festival season offers us the chance to make more of these moments. Not in some grand, life-changing way, but in small, genuine ways that linger. If you’re heading to a festival or two this year, don’t just chase the perfect shot or main-stage setlist.

Let yourself notice the background sounds, the in-between sets, the weird little connections, synchronistic moments, and songs you wouldn’t have chosen on your own. Because years from now, it might be one of those that plays on unexpectedly and reminds you of who you were, and how alive it all felt.

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What excites you most as a producer?

What really excites me is when I go into sounds, or twists in the sounds that are unexpected—like changing the key abruptly, or using an effect that comes in just every now and then. I love very petite changes that make a big difference in production. Every time I hear a production where I can hear that someone has put a lot of time into it, and it’s complex, it just makes me so happy.

What are some of your favorite subtle shifts that you can accomplish in a recording?

I like to put in small, hidden messages. It could be a voice sample that only I know where it comes from—like a phone call—then I just take one word from that phone call, for example, and use it as a snare. It’s things that no one else probably would hear or notice. It makes such a difference in the process of creating it. But then I really like to play with my own voice, see how I can pitch my voice, flex time my voice, or use it in various ways. That’s probably why I love samplers so much, because you never know what you’ll get. You know what you put into the sampler, but then, from there, it just gives you so many endless possibilities. Samplers: they’re my best friends.

What is your go to sampler?

I love the Serato sampler. When I got it, it was free, which was incredible. I also use the (Teenage Engineering) OP-1 a lot. I’ve been using (Native Instruments) Maschine quite a lot to chop up stuff, but I don’t find it to be quite as easy. It’s not a standalone. I’ve tried to, like, really love it–and I used to love it–but I don’t love it as much anymore. I like Maschine for drums. It’s easy to quantize, but it’s also kind of complex. You need to really learn the Maschine, and, to be honest, I’m not much of a nerd when it comes to, like, learning the instrument. I just want them to work, or if I don’t know how they work, I want them to be easy to just figure out somehow.

Tell us about your experience producing other artists.

I’ve had sessions with people where we come from different worlds, and I think that could be good. But so far, my best experiences have been with the people who have similar taste and sound. We have similar thoughts. When you find that, it’s just fun. I think it’s good as a producer too, or as an artist, to get out of your own head. You can learn so much [from] someone saying a sound that they want you to use, and it might be a sound that you have never thought of or that you would never use, but you learn so much from just trying to find that. Then I’ve been making a lot of samples for other producers, which has been really fun. It’s easy to sit and be like, “oh, I need to make a whole production of something,” but I’ve also found a way where I’m, creating ambiences–or creating soundscapes, in a way–and then I let someone else come in to make the drums or the bass. The process of adding bass is very boring to me. I’ve been quite forceful too, in my no’s. I’ve not been afraid to say no, which has been good for me as a producer. I used to jump into projects, but it’s easy to find yourself kind of scattered if you’ve done a lot of different things that you’re not really keen on.

How did you get started as a producer?

Actually, I went to a production and songwriting school, but I went in there as a top liner. This was in Sweden, and it’s a quite good school. It’s the school that a lot of good producers and songwriters have gone to, but I didn’t even know the concept of producing, so I picked top liner, But then as I got into that school and I started to write, and I wrote for others,  ended up always finding myself nagging at the producer, like, “Oh, you should try this. You should do this.” It was always male producers. I hadn’t seen a woman produce at that point. I didn’t really have any influencers or anyone that I could look up to, besides maybe Björk back then. It kind of grew out of frustration, because I saw these men just came into the studios and took over, and I didn’t even think they were good at what they were doing. So then, after a while, I kind of locked myself in, because I was so tired of everything. And I was like, I don’t want to be a top liner; this is not for me.

I started to produce by myself, because I had learned so much, because I had seen others produce. I remember that I wanted to do my artist project, but I couldn’t find a producer for it. I was just standing in line for these male producers. I had to wait, then they would start something, but they wouldn’t finish it. So then I was like, I’ll just do it myself. I did it out of anger, but also out of pure excitement. I immediately was just so blown away, like, “oh my god, why haven’t I done this sooner?” It’s one of the few things in life where I really get caught up in it, and I can just lose myself completely. Up to that point, I hadn’t really felt that feeling. It was so much fun to not know a lot about it either, because that gave me so much freedom and space to try things out, which made me ultra creative. Then, from there, I found my own ways of doing it. I remember a guy looking through my project, and he was like, “you can’t have the compressor first and then the EQ, that’s wrong.” And I was like, “Who says that it’s wrong?”

Do you still put the compressor before the EQ?

I actually put the EQ before the compressor most of the time. I know more common rules of what sounds good and what doesn’t sound good, but it’s so easy to get caught up in the rules of producing, and just forget about the creativity and the endless possibilities that are there if you actually put the compressor before the EQ [sometimes]. And it might be a sound that is way cooler than the compressor after the EQ.

Can you say the name of the school that you went to?

Musikmakarna. It’s a really good school. They split you up in groups, you know, so you’re either a “top liner” or a producer, which makes it weird. It’s weird when that’s your first interaction with the industry. You suddenly have to put yourself into a box. I think that limits you, like, “well, if I’m a top liner, I can’t be a producer.” I do think a lot of things have changed, though. This was quite a lot of years ago. I love the word creator; I just want to be a creator. And I think that, especially as a girl and as a woman, too, it’s easy to forget that you can do everything. I think society enforces [men] to be like, “I can do whatever I want,” but as a girl, you have to make everything perfect before you can say that you’re a producer. You have to produce a hit record before you can say that you’re a producer. I’m just trying to work around that all the time, and [as] soon as I try something, I’m like, “I’m that.”

Do you have someone who really helped you, like a mentor?

I didn’t really have anyone who I can say was, like, a mentor, but I did feel a lot of encouragement from people who were in the industry–from other women producers especially. I think there’s a lot of connection there, from female creators overall. I’ve found a lot of calm in talking to other girls who are making something creative, because it takes a lot from you to put yourself out there. It’s kind of vulnerable as a woman. So to see other girls being powerful, and being nerdy, or being deeply interested in something that doesn’t have anything to do with men, is very inspiring to me. Every woman, who’s making something for their own sake, has always been very inspiring to me.

So tell us about your process for making your latest album.

I was going through a breakup, and I’ve never been a big diary writer. My way has been to record myself when I’m playing piano and singing, so I did that a lot, and I just let whatever wanted to come out, come out. It came from this very intuitive place. So I would have long recordings, like 30 minutes that I had recorded, that I then took and sampled. I let those samples kind of lead the way for the whole album. Then I would add production to it, I would add drums or whatever it needed, which was hard, because a lot of them didn’t even have BPMs or a tempo. Some of them still don’t, which I have found, very freeing in a way, because I just had to accept that. Once I let go, I was like, oh, it can be whatever it wants to be.

What are some of your long term goals?

I really want to work with people, with big people, who are interesting and inspiring. I want to get more into hip hop, and use my samples there, and also more into the alternative scene, [producing] for others. I want to produce even more for others, and then release more albums. I’m moving to the US, which will be terrifying, and so much fun. I really also want to pave the way for female producers. I just want to be inspiring, and I want to stay inspired, too.

What made you gravitate toward music to begin with?

My dad is a musician, but he’s an accordion player, and he’s been very much into klezmer music and jazz. So I always started out as a little bit of an underdog, you know, because I was just listening to his records, which were klezmer records, all day long. Then I started playing violin when I was seven. I played in a lot of orchestras, and I was also writing songs for orchestras, which was my first way of expressing creativity and making songs. I think that has had a huge impact on the way that I produce, too, because I come from an orchestra perspective, and I’ve also always been singing in choirs. From that, I’m very used to different harmonies and different sections, which I’ve had a big use for in my production. I’ve always been in music, I’ve always been around music, and I think if I would have known that it was possible to produce earlier, I definitely would have. It was just that I didn’t even know that you could do it until school.

Your choir background definitely comes across in your album.

Yeah, I love choirs. It’s so much fun singing with other people. The beautiful thing about vocals is that it’s an instrument that is closest to us, because it comes right out of us; there’s no instrument in between. It’s just straight from our soul. I find that if I’ve been in an era where I’ve been only producing a lot and I haven’t been singing so much, I can feel how I’m disconnected from myself, almost. I really think singing connects you to you somehow. It’s just beautiful.

More on Thea Gustafsson

https://beckyandthebirds.com/

New single announcement: April 30th, 2025

https://www.instagram.com/beckyandthebirds/

Selected Interviews with Thea Gustaffson:

The Luna Collective

Clash Music Interview

The post Thea Gustafsson Producer, Songwriter, and Recording Artist appeared first on SoundGirls.org.

What does this memory have to do with a book review?  How Women Made Music edited by Alison Fensterstock is a collection of such memories, with interviews and opinion pieces curated from Turning the Tables series on NPR.  The series was developed to even the balance of articles written by and about men.  If you look at the top 50 of Rolling Stones’ top 500 albums only a measly 18% are by bands or acts with at least 2 members who are women.  That is not even a quarter of the albums.  Turning the Tables are making their own lists, writing their own articles, doing their own interviews.  Underappreciated no more.

Even though Turning the Tables is no longer active, they cemented their legacy with a book, a highlight reel of what their several years of work created.  Included in the appendices are their ranked lists of albums and artists, inviting the reader to do their own aural research.  The lists also help bridge the gap between what made it into the book and the amazing talent that just missed the cut.  How Women Made Music is divided into arbitrary categories, grouping artists based on their stage presence and influence rather than telling a history of modern music through a feminine gaze.  Chapter headings aside, the categories take a backseat for an opportunity to showcase the intersectionality of artistry.  While American Pop Music has the largest representation, How Women Made Music makes an effort to display a spectrum: of genres, gender expression, of culture.  In transitioning Turning the Tables to a book, what I feel is the weakest aspect of How Women Made Music is how much was omitted.  To dedicate enough ink to each selection meant a smaller number of artists included in the main text.  There are genres that have deeply rooted patriarchal stereotypes like metal and mariachi that could have more pages dedicated to the feminine iconoclasts.  In addition, I felt the book did not venture far outside the United States.  In choosing NPR as source material, they could have focused on US-based charts to make their selections, and then partner later with other publications to broaden their scope, but they decided to dabble somewhat with artists of other regions.  But I digress, I am delighted in who they decided to include.  And the writing is edifying journalism paired with insightful interviews.

When writing about women, especially in an industry dominated by men, there are common tropes that journalists cling to.  This book is no exception.  With many of the articles and interviews, there is a highlight of the reaction to the competitiveness of an industry dominated by men.  The women are showcased as first, as role models for others, as leaders and mentors.  All of these fail the “Finkbeiner Test,” an unofficial metric of measuring how stagnant journalists are at writing about women.  In the basic nature of Turning the Tables, yes, the articles are going to fail the test on the basis that they seek out to write about women who influenced music.  However, by curating a massive collection of writings, NPR has provided an opportunity for future music journalists to move beyond the over-trodden path.  Turning the Tables has written about the oft-forgotten, the behind-the-scenes muses, the iconoclasts and the pioneers.  Those women who needed to be interviewed and written about in order to document their influence now have ink dedicated to them.  Now we can move on to writing and interviewing without the tired cliches.  Write about artists being influential because of their accomplishments, let them claim their superlatives without asterix.  Shake up the homogenized top lists that lack the depth to truly represent the best.  How Women Made Music is a stepping stone in that direction, a resource to give you the knowledge to do better.

The post How Women Made Music Review appeared first on SoundGirls.org.