John’s History of Recording: Part Two

MULTI-TRACK RECORDING

The next step in my recording odyssey was to acquire a multi-track recorder. Instead of having to “bounce” tracks on a stereo, sound-on-sound recorder (see “John’s History of Recording: Part One”), I wanted to record at least four separate tracks either simultaneously or one at a time, process them separately, and ultimately mix them together while recording them on another tape recorder to create a master 2-track stereo recording. (See the Otari MX5050 at the end of this blog)

TEAC 3340S 4-Track Recorder

In 1977, I secured a loan from my parents to buy a multi-track tape deck, which I believe cost about $1,300 (or about $6,500 in today’s dollars).

It used 1/4” magnetic tape and ran at both 7.5 and 15 ips (inches per second). The tracks, like all tape machines, produced tape hiss in the recording process and the more tracks you had, the more tape hiss you got.

The machine also had “Simul-Sync,” which allowed me to monitor off the record head, making it possible to keep everything in sync when overdubbing. I spent many a happy hour recording and re-recording with that deck.

Here’s a piece called “Yellow Fire” that I recorded on the 3340S in 1978 or 1979:

The next stage of my recording quest involved getting a hold of an 8-track recorder. More tracks meant being able to record more instruments without having to “bounce.”

OTARI MX5050 8-TRACK REEL-TO-REEL TAPE MACHINE

In 1980, I got a job teaching recording skills to teenagers at a place called Somerville Media Action Project (SMAP) in Somerville, Massachusetts. Somehow, we were able to get access to an Otari 8-track recorder. This was a state-of-the-art machine that used 1/2” tape rather than 1/4” and had twice as many tracks as my 3340S.

Below is a picture of the control room at SMAP and a couple of the recording engineers (that’s me on the left). The transport for the 8-track is next to my right arm; the electronics for it are behind my head. They were connected by a large cable that allowed the two parts to be separated.

I wrote and recorded the following song (“Morning Madness”) on the MX5050:

The gradual improvement of recording quality among the examples I’ve included here demonstrates evolving tape recording technology, including more tracks as well as the recording engineer’s evolving skills and experience.

Next up, 16 tracks!

Otari MTR 90 MKII - 2” 16 track tape machine

This is a picture of me mixing music at Silver Linings, Inc. in Boston, Massachusetts, where I worked as an audio engineer from 1984 to 1991. We offered “mix-to-pix” for visual media (slide-shows, videos and television) and we had two Otari 16-track decks.

You can see part of one of them at the right side of the picture. Just to the left of the machine is the roll-around remote controller for it. All functions of the deck were available from the remote.

It was a very well-made and great sounding tape recorder and the 2” tape came on heavy reels that could run at 15 or 30 ips. We edited the tape with razor blades!

Here’s a composition of mine called “Bass Desire” that was recorded on that Otari 16-track:

All the multi-track recorders than I have been discussing here were the first step in the recording process.

Once I had completed the basic recording of tracks, those tracks would be mixed together through a multi-channel mixer and recorded on a 2-track recorder. That 2-stereo mix would then be transferred to CD, cassette, or other media for listening.

Here’s a picture of the deck I used most of the time for that purpose, the Otari MX505 2-track tape recorder.

In 1992, I stopped working with tape recorders and began to record exclusively via digital, first with Digidesign Soundtools and then with Digital Performer software on Apple Macintosh computers—but for that part of the story, see the upcoming “John’s History of Recording, Part Three!”

Throwback Thursday: John Kusiak Interview from 2015

John Kusiak sits down with APN to discuss the creative process he uses and his work with Boston’s artistic community.

Scoring Woodstock & Returning to the Tribeca Film Festival

Whenever I would tell someone that Andrew Willis and I were working on a score for the new Woodstock documentary for American Experience, there would be quizzical looks and questions. “Wasn’t Woodstock all about music? Why would you need to write music for that?” Yes, of course, there are hours of music that came from the event, but that movie has already been made.

PBS and AMERICAN EXPERIENCE announced the new two-hour documentary Woodstock, scheduled to premiere on PBS in 2019 in conjunction with the 50th anniversary of the historic three-day concert that defined a generation. Read the full article here.

The original Woodstock movie came out in 1970 and was all about the music. This new film is different. It’s a retrospective documentary about how the whole thing came about. It’s about the organizers who had the original idea and the incredible difficulties they encountered in trying to make it happen.

It is also about the concert-goers; their lives, what brought them there, the troubles they endured in the mud and rain, and all the amazing experiences they had.

Naturally, there are songs from the actual performances in the film as well as music that was popular at the time. However, our score supports the stories that are told about the people who came together for the event of a lifetime.

We mostly used guitars, bass, mandolin and drums to create music that integrates with the music of the era: we aimed to play those instruments in a way that is modern and yet evokes the sounds of the ‘60s.

Barak Goodman, director (on the left) with composer John Kusiak. Photo by Laura Barrett.

A few weeks ago I attended the Woodstock Tribeca Film Festival premiere screening in New York City with Kenny Kusiak (who also contributed to the score). It was one of the “Spotlight” films and was standing room only.

Barak Goodman, who has some of the best American Experience films under his belt, directed the movie.

“Woodstock: Three Days that Defined a Generation” will be released in theaters by PBS Films on May 24 in New York, and June 7 in LA.

It will be aired on PBS in August.

Turn on, tune in, and listen!

John's History of Recording: Part One

First Tape Recorder

In 1960 I was 12 years old, just beginning guitar lessons and regularly visiting the Western Auto store in Agawam, MA. I went there principally to buy 45 rpm records but I also liked to check out all the other cool things that the store carried. It was a real "variety store" that specialized in auto parts but also sold Western Flyer bicycles, sports gear, Truetone guitars, fishing rods, guns, you name it.

One day my eye caught something new, a compact and portable tape recorder like the one pictured below:

I had previously been able to experiment briefly with a tape recorder that a friend's parents had in their home and was fascinated by it. Here was an opportunity to get my own; a TrueTone single track recorder. I don’t remember the cost, but I imagine it was under $25 and I probably purchased it with money saved up from my paper route.

So much fun! I used it to record myself and my best friend Greg performing silly interviews as we pretended to be celebrities, to record songs I liked off of my transistor radio, and to collect environmental sounds like thunder, cars passing, and birds singing.

It also provided me with the opportunity to practice improvising with my guitar; I’d record several minutes of the chords from a song I was working on, rewind and then solo along with the playback. Many hours were spent with this activity.

Sound-On-Sound

When I was in high school, one of my bands (The Charmen, a “witty” play on the name of the toilet paper) somehow acquired a “manager.” He happened to own a tape recorder, which he brought to my house when we were practicing. This recorder had the ability to record “sound on sound” (SoS).

SoS was invented by Les Paul and describes the ability of a stereo, 2-track recorder to record from one of the tracks to the other – while simultaneously recording whatever new input you gave it. This was the “holy grail” because it allowed you to build up multiple tracks and create a complete song all by yourself. 

Start with a rhythm guitar recorded on track 1, then as you play it back, you record bass and “bounce” both the original rhythm guitar along with the bass into track 2. When you were satisfied with that performance, you could play that combo back from track 2 while adding percussion and record it all back on to track 1. And so on, and on, and on…

Of course, you had to to erase the original rhythm guitar track in order to bounce the three instruments back on track 1, so you had better like the original track the way it was because there would be no going back. Also, each “bounce” would add more tape hiss (a by-product of the tape recording process) from the original track along with the hiss being generated by the new recording, so there was a limit to how many times you would want to bounce things. However, it gave me, an aspiring composer/arranger, the opportunity to try things out, see how they sounded, and create new music compositions all by myself.

It was mind-blowing and addictive. I couldn’t get enough of it.

Here’s a picture of a 2-track recorder that had the ability to record “sound on sound.”

And here’s a piece I composed based on a lullaby; playing 4 guitars, overdubbed, using the SoS technique (notice the tape hiss):

Read more about SoS

Read Part 2 of John’s History of Recording 

Throwback Thursday: The Gardener

When I was younger I struggled with how to make a living in music. I found intervals of success as a performing musician and composer, but with a wife and a child, the pressing needs of a family required me to supplement sporadic music-related income with various odd jobs; taxi driver, house painter, mover, 5 Star Music Masters ghost writer, etc. The usual drill would be: come home from working, often pretty exhausted, and then burn the midnight oil practicing, composing and studying music or playing a gig. This routine would work temporarily, but then, sooner or later, I’d end up resenting (hating) the job and would quit. For a while things would be okay, and I’d be happy to be back making music full-time. Then the money would run out and I’d have to take another “real” job.

Many of my friends and bandmates had decided to throw the towel in on a career in music and went back to school to get a degree in computer science or something more conducive to earning a livelihood. I resisted the drive toward this kind of “plan B” and so at age 32, there I was watering plants in department stores and offices part-time and still composing and practicing guitar whenever I could fit it in. Plant maintenance wasn't a bad job, but it wasn't what I really wanted to be doing. I was disheartened and kind of embarrassed wearing a shirt with a company logo.

I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but one day, something changed; a shift in my thinking occurred. My attitude changed and with it, my whole life. It might have had something to do with the fact that my father was an avid gardener and though I often tried to avoid helping him in the garden as a kid, some of his love of gardening and expertise with plants must have rubbed off on me. I grew intrigued by the challenge of learning about how to grow things. There was so much to learn about taking care of plants; I started checking books out of the library and reading about plant care (“Crockett’s Victory Garden,” Rodale’s series on organic gardening, “The Secret Life of Plants," etc.). As is my wont, I got obsessed with the subject.

One day, as I was caring for the plants at Bloomingdales, I remember saying to myself, “I’m not going to just quit this job. Instead, I’m going to be the very best plant tender I can be.” (Sounds kind of silly, I know.) Along with that thought came the realization that if I threw myself whole-heartedly into the job (while still continuing to practice and study music in my spare time), I’d be able to transcend the job for something better, rather than quit because I couldn’t stand it anymore. Instead, I could “pass through” the job and never have to do that kind of work for money again. In focusing on the present situation and being there completely, I experienced a feeling of certainty that, in the end, I would find a way to make a living in music. 

It took a little time, but that's exactly what happened. I had been a prisoner of my mindset and I had to recognize that fact. Instead of quitting, I had to do the very best I could with the present situation, to accept it, in order to move on and escape my self-created prison.

What happened next is another story…