So, this is the awesome control room and the first thing you see when you walk into John's studio. Each time I see it I am still struck with how cool it is and how awesome it is to be recording here. This is where John Lauvasser well, "controls" everything and where Peter copilots.
The last chord of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" melts into silence.
I sit absolutely still, trying to to breathe or make any noise that would ruin the take.
Doubts run through my head in the ensuing silence. I had thought the performance had gone well, it had felt good, but now that I was finished, who knew...
I wait nervously for what the Peter and John LeVausser in the control room have to say.
"That was great!" I hear John exclaim through my headphones, "Very musical."
I open the glass door and hurry through the narrow hallway to join them to listen to the take. Peter is sitting in one of the black computer chairs, and only has one word for me.
"Wow."
We listen back to the take in silence.
"So," I say finally, feeling my face flush, "I guess that one's good to go."
John grins at me. "What's up next?"
Here's "Tracking Room One" where I've done all of my recording so far.
I'd like to say this has been the experience of recording this entire album, that, yes, it is an album of fifteen, flawless first takes. However, for every excellent take there are tons of instances such as:
John: Whenever you're ready.
Me: Okay (pause, start playing) Can I start again?
John: Sure
Me (start playing again): Oh, dang it, can I start again? Ahhh....
It is a long road to record a CD, and things always take longer than you expect. Getting to record a CD is awesome, but is it also, as Uncle Ben might say "a great responsibility." Performing a song live is one thing. Playing a song that is going to stick around for always and ever (well, at least for a couple years) is a very sobering challenge to face.
There are moments of pure, undistilled bliss that come from a great take, from your fellow musicians giving you great performances, and from listening back to a recently recorded song and realizing, "Wow, that sounds great!"
These moments are all the sweeter because they are surrounded by times when instruments refuse to stay in tune, when my fingers mess up measures that I have played hundreds of times at home, and when the combinatation of stress and nerves feel akin to being a hundred feet under the ocean.
There are times when I sit at the harp in the studio and can only wonder at how incredibly blessed I am to have this chance to make a solo album, and then there are other times when I wonder why in the world I have thrown myself yet again into this musical black hole from which I might never return.
In the end, though, it is the moments when things are on the verge of falling apart that are the most important. It is in those moments that I've learned to take a deep breath, say a quick prayer, and forge onward, despite my misgivings or doubts. It is during these times that it is most important (and difficult) to recall that brief and fleeting vision one had of the glorious end project, and remember, "Yes, this is worth taking my time on to get right. This is worth sticking it out for."
And, if you are lucky like me, you have a younger brother who will sit in the control room for your every song and will tell you "Come on, you can play better than that. Play it again. "
This is the "Rythmn Room" and both Mary-Teresa and Joanna have used this room for recording and there is even a glass window in between the rooms so we can see each other as we play. Yep, this is the real deal.
