Tony Visconti: Audio Visionary

Apr 19, 2007 7:17 PM, By Michael Molenda

           

Visconti (right, on bass) and David Bowie in the aptly named band Hype, in 1969.

Is there any way to gauge whether a working relationship will be productive or not?
After I hear the artist's demo and see him or her perform live, I just follow my gut feeling and go with it. At that point, there's no way to know what will happen. But when we actually start working together, I try to foresee as much as possible what level of sanity I'm going to have to deal with in the studio. It is my experience that all artists are either insane or big babies; it just has to he gauged to what degree they are afflicted. Of course, I'm being facetious here, but the "honeymoon" usually comes to an end after the first week in the studio, and then you see what the artist is really like. It can be quite scary sometimes.

Let's say an artist isn't delivering the level of performance that you believe he or she is capable of what do you do?
I will do anything that comes to mind, including some real disgusting stuff. I learned years ago, while playing improvisational music, that the music one makes is a result of one's experiences. So if artists are stuck, I often give them all "experience." This might take the form of a practical joke, or perhaps we'll just sit down and drink a little wine. I've even been known to employ a strip-o-gram to get a band to loosen up. The process of making music should he both passionate and fun. If those two vital ingredients are missing, it's not worth being in the studio.

It's also important that the artists feel comfortable—young bands, in particular, often find studios to be very intimidating—so I do my best to cloak the studio's high-tech surroundings. I might bring in table lamps to replace harsh lighting fixtures, and I encourage groups to post their favorite works of art and other familiar items around the studio. Cameras are a great source of fun, too. If you pull out a Polaroid or a Handycam, instant mirth forms in the studio.

If a performance still isn't happening, I call a break and sit with the artist to talk about the "meaning" of the piece. Sometimes musicians can get too focused on details and forget the big picture. I think it's important that the artist be reminded of what he or she is trying to communicate with music. For example, the song isn't about singing the third chorus louder than the second, it's about a woman who has left you for a trapeze artist and broke your guitar before she left with your credit cards!

Also, it's not the end of the world if you don't get the vocal or solo during the scheduled session. If the artist's biorhythms aren't right, we simply take a break and try again later. I keep a lot of tracks free, because I like to use at least eight separate tracks for lead vocals and solos. I'm a firm believer in keeping everything the artist puts on tape and then editing the best performances together on a composite track; if I'm out of tracks on the master tape, I bounce the backing tracks to a slave reel and continue recording. I like to save everything, because I've discovered that everything tends to sound much better after a day's rest. I find that the little mistakes that irked me are forgotten and that the overall performance was far better than I had imagined.

How much do you involve yourself in reworking an artist's material?
Oh, I get involved! I hate to see a basically good song go by the wayside do to a glaring fault. I consider myself a "song doctor." I try not to actually write anything myself—I know that there are many producers who take a writing credit just for changing a few notes—opting instead to help the writer take the song one step further towards being a classic song. I think it's my job to do that.

So Is there some secret pop producer's trick to making a song more commercial?
I just follow some basic rules, such as ensuring the song has a strong chorus that is heard several times. But let me give you a practical example: Bono phoned me after U2 released Unforgettable Fire and said that "A Sort of Homecoming" was picked for a single but that Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois couldn't edit down the 6minute album version. The edits just didn't flow satisfactorily.

Founding members of T. Rex: Steve Peregrine Took (left) and Marc Bolan.

I listened to the album cut and determined that commercial elements were already present but were not highlighted or repeated. A lot of attention was paid to very floaty, washy instrumental passages. I called Bono back and suggested the band ignore the album format completely and define the main musical elements of the verse, chorus, and bridge.

Fortunately, the band was performing the song on tour and the live version was considerably different from the album version. We decided to re-record the song live and use that version for the single. So I rehearsed them during the sound check for a concert at Wembley, and they all loved the tighter arrangement I suggested. The original idea to use one of the subsequent concert performances was rejected because stage adrenaline prevented its from capturing a decent, well-played track. A recording made during the soundcheck rehearsal was used instead. We did some overdubs in the studio the following week, and when the new single version was released—on a 4-song EP entitled Wide Awake in America—it became a big hit.

Do you already have a strong sense of a song's musical arrangement during preproduction, or do you develop ideas during the overdub and mixing processes?
I have a good imagination, so I often "hear" the finished work before the rhythm track is even conceived. Most of the time I go for a strong rhythm track and make sure there is enough sonic space to overlay my ideas for strings, brass, or backing vocals. A great signature line during the song's intro that is repeated between the choruses and verses is just as important as the song itself. The arrangement is everything.

Having said that, Bowie usually managed to make arranging very difficult, because he'd seldom bring a finished lyric or melody to the sessions. He'd only have a basic idea, based on a book he'd just read or a recent conversation. Even the key of the song would be arbitrary. For example, the song "Fashion" was conceived as nothing more than a riff while the band was rehearsing in a house in Jamaica. The song was called "Jamaica" even after all the music was recorded! All the little musical "tastes" were recorded simply because they sounded good; they weren't embellishing the vocal melody, because there wasn't one. Months later, back in London, Bowie admitted he couldn't come up with a lyric or melody line and suggested we abandon the track. I vaguely remember pleading with him to come up with something, and the next afternoon he arrived with most of the song finished. Some lines were written on the spot as we recorded the vocal. Bowie is the only artist I've worked with who actually writes on mic!

Because you develop your arrangement ideas very early in the production process, do you tend to "stick to the plan" as the recording progresses?
I follow my vision but not the letter of my law. It's important to avoid being a slave to a concept that should really be under constant revision. This is because I think it's important that every musician be allowed to make his or her personal contribution to the group. I have no problem modifying my plans to accommodate any spontaneous magic that occurs when the musicians start playing.

At what point do you begin the sweetening process, and how do you decide which sonic elements will best enhance the track? Almost immediately after a rhythm track is recorded, I begin laying down some elementary sweetening and don't stop until the basic track sounds great. I may ask the guitarist to double or harmonize some lines, or I'll request that the keyboardist double the bass line at certain points. Of course, there are always a few spots for the drummer to slap on a tambourine or shaker. These quick "tastes" can polish up a rhythm track without muting its punch and spirit. Another good reason to start the sweetening process fairly early is that these sonic enhancements can magnify whether the track is truly hot or not. If the track doesn't come alive after sweetening, we re-record the basic tracks, armed with a better idea of what must be changed.

The real intricate sweetening, however, takes place after all the rhythm tracks are finished. Then, we can break down the board from recording basics and plug in a whole bunch of toys, such as samplers, multieffects processors, and various types of microphones. I don't mind spending all day getting a 30-second "eargasm" on tape, but I must have all the basics completed in order to be free to orient my mind solely towards the sweetening process.

How do I choose the actual sweetening elements? I adapt what works best with the song. The same riff can sound great on many different instruments, and with MIDI modules the range of options is incredible. I trust my gut feelings to narrow the choices down. There are always emotive guidelines you can follow to select sounds that empathize with what the artist is communicating: guitars make you feel angry or passionate, brass makes you feel bold and cocky, strings make you feel sad or romantic, and so on.