Studio Diary Part 13

Week six; singing and guitaring; a special guest arrives

Thursday, October 19

Here we are, coming to the end. I have to say, this process of meticulously journaling every day in the studio has been kind of fascinating. I’ve regretted having committed to it a few times, loathed doing it a few times, but in the end I think it’s been an interesting project. These mornings of journaling before heading into the studio have given me a moment to reflect on the preceding days in a way I don’t think I would’ve otherwise. I hope you’ve found them interesting; I occasionally worried that the banality would be a turn off to readership, but maybe that’s a feature not a bug?

If it’s of interest to you, I’ll continue journaling the rest of the process (mixing, sleeve design, mastering, lead-up etc) but on a much more infrequent basis. It feels weird to be revealing what’s behind the curtain — so much of record-releasing has always revolved around secrecy and surprise — but whenever I’ve been made uncomfortable by that idea, I just remind myself that this is an experiment, a new way of experiencing this whole bizarre process.

So here we are, Thursday morning. I’m the first one in the studio; Tucker’s not even there. I find my way to the red couch and stake a spot. The control room is freezing; apparently the heat in the room is mostly provided by the gear and human bodies. Lizzy is next to arrive, then Tucker. We chat about the stuff we got down the day before. I have some notes from listening to the rough mixes last night.

What if the first “ooooh” in the breakdown at the end of “Joan 3” was an “ahhhh” instead; what would it sound like if Lizzy just appeared on a verse in “Oh No” rather than just punctuating the choruses? That sort of thing. We bring up the files one at a time and try out the ideas, some of them through Tucker editing the existing track, some by Lizzy squaring up to the microphone in the live room. Some of the ideas are good, some not so good. We move on.

Lizzy shows off some Lizzytronics (TM)

“Never Satisfied” is next. At first listen, we realize there are some pitch issues between the instruments. We narrow it down to my electric guitar part, the rhythm part, which I played on the studio’s Telecaster, capoed up five frets. This is the obvious culprit — old guitars can be very finicky, intonation-wise, when played up the neck. We vow to tackle it once we’re done with Lizzy’s bit.

Certain songs are really pulled into a new place when you add backing vocals; this is one of those instances. Just really lovely.

At this point, it’s a wash of Lizzy running back and forth between the live room and the control room. Harmonies are layered, harmonies are rejiggered and refined. By the end of the day, all of the boxes are ticked — there is an embarrassment of backing harmonies on this guy and we may even need to pare it back a bit.

Lizzy’s done by five; Tucker and I ruminate about the call-and-response backing vocals on “Burial Ground” and decide it might be a nice spot for a more featured singer. But who, though? It’s a long shot, but I text James Mercer and see if he’d be interested and available to come in and do some singing. He texts back in the affirmative; would tomorrow work? Yes, yes, it would, James. Problem solved!

I use the extra hour to re-record that guitar part on “Never Satisfied” in a slightly more in-tune guitar. Then I’m off to meet Carson downtown at Powell’s; she’s moderating a discussion between Jillian Tamaki and Mariko Tamaki about their new book, Roaming. It’s really good! You should read it!

Friday, October 20

I’m mindful, this morning, that this will likely be my last day in the studio. I’d been enjoying the process so much, these last six weeks, that I’d expected to feel a little, you know, verklempt when my last day arrived — but, thanks to this ungodly thirty minute daily commute, I am looking forward to not driving every day, which goes some way toward making this transition easier.

The songs are feeling really good. I’ve felt better about this batch of songs than I have in a long time. I know it might be too soon to tell, and I might be too close to the project right now, but I really believe this stands with the best of our work. I feel like the original thesis of the Decemberists is all over this thing; this is a record we were meant to do. Our first proper double LP — clocking in, currently, at seventy three minutes. Feels right.

I also am aware that sentiments change; I’ve been in the midst of recording a song in the studio, absolutely sure it would a crowning achievement in my body of work, only to spend a few months away from it and realize it was all a bit meh. Interpreting your own work with real clarity is a sucker’s game. You just gotta put it out there, see what it does. Like I said in an earlier entry, these songs are ceasing to be my songs anymore. They’re your songs. I hope they find you; I hope they move you. Please be kind to them.

Achieving peak feedback

Today is guitar day, though there are a few vocal fixes to be done — a line here and there that hasn’t survived under the microscope. I do these fixes to the best of my ability and then remove to the control room, where I re-track the electric twelve string on “Long White Veil.” “I married her, I carried her / On the very same day I buried her,” goes the chorus and I jingle-jangle underneath it like it’s 1984 and I’m onstage at the 40 Watt Club in Athens, GA.

Yes, dear reader, there’s plenty of people dying on this record. Death a-plenty.

We then rearrange my pedal board a bit to get the sound for “Joan 2” — an Ocean’s Eleven reverb pedal through a Dream Reaper fuzz into a Fender Twin. I drone out a few passes before we experiment with swapping out the fuzz pedal; we try a pass with my vintage Companion fuzz (famously, the fuzz that the Jesus and Mary Chain used on Psychocandy) and another through a big, unnamed silver box that Tucker has. We then track another pass straight into the Orange amp, which has its own natural fuzz when cranked. At the end of the pass, I holler for studio assistant Ryan to open the door to the amp room so we can get some feedback. This is the result. Thanks Ryan!

We look at the Big Board; we hem and haw. We think I’m mostly done, but we should really do a complete listen down before we put my parts to bed. By then it’s three p.m. and, good to his word, James arrives. We hang for a bit, catching up — I first met James when the Shins played a show at the old Disjecta in Portland. Probably was ‘03? Very peak-aughts, there. In fact, I remember Ben Gibbard was there, too, and he came up to me with a promo copy of this new side project he’d finished called The Postal Service. Anyway, eventually we opened for The Shins on some college date in the early aughts. I’m such a fan of his work — it’s a thrill to have him here in the studio.

Mr. Mercer sings

Once he’s properly in-voice, James heads into the live room and rips a handful of chorus passes for “Burial Ground.” It’s so great — it manages to really highlight James’ sui generis singing voice. Blends real well. We run him through the ringer a bit, doubling the melody and getting harmonies too, but he’s done in a couple hours. Thanks, James!

We have an hour left in the day, this last day of our sixth week of recording, how should we spend it? We listen down to a couple tracks, taking notes as we go, but soon I have to skedaddle southward to meet the fam out for dinner — we are celebrating the end of a recording that has not quite ended.