There's an alchemy involved in the recording of music that is every bit as magical and mysterious as those ancient quests to turn lead into gold.
Beginning with Thomas Edison's phonograph, various methods have evolved for capturing sound waves, converting them to electrical impulses and then back to sound: tinfoil- and wax-covered cylinders; pressed wax and plastic platters that store the sound in grooves and release it with a needle; magnetic tape; today's laser-powered compact discs.
As that technology has changed, so too, has the process of inputting the sound. The earliest records were made from live performances. Then came the idea of bringing musicians into the studio, where they could play and re-play until they got it right.
Musicians hailed the arrival of magnetic tape, which could quite literally be cut and spliced, so the best parts of different performances could be pieced together.
Today, the process is more complex still, involving computer tracks, individual instrument recording sessions, layering, mixing and mastering and more.
But one thing has not changed, says Salt Lake singer/songwriter/producer Kenneth Cope; when it all comes together just right, it is still pure magic.
Cope's newest CD will be released this spring, and he spent close to a month in the studio late last year recording and producing the album. On any given day during that period you could get fascinating insight into how today's music is made.
The process, of course, begins with the music. Cope's album will include six of his own songs and five contemporary Christian songs. Of his own songs, three are brand new and three have been recorded before.
Cope generally records music he has written. So this is a bit different for him. But he has been involved in several other time-consuming projects lately and songwriting time has been at a premium.
Many of the songs are ones that Cope has been performing live in concert for many years, and fans have been asking for a recording of them. Plus, he's wanted to record some contemporary Christian songs for some time. He'd like to see more interaction between LDS and other Christian artists; there's a lot of good work being done on both sides, he says.
So, Cope chose the songs; and he and Tyler Castleton (who usually plays the piano at Cope's concerts) did the arrangements to adapt them to his voice and style. And then it was time to go into the studio — Platinum Lab Studios, owned and operated by Barry Gibbons.
Studio work begins with a "scratch" track. The artist sings through the songs so other musicians will have a reference, but they really don't worry about getting it exactly right this time around.
"We'll come back and replace the vocal track," explains Gibbons, but this gives them a starting place. And then they begin to add the layers, one by one.
Gibbons' job, he says, is to make sure all the instruments play the right roles in the right places. Before they are through, he will have to place more than 100 to 110 different elements.
They start with the piano and then start adding the strings, which are a major part of many of the songs. "It's like decorating a cake," says Gibbons. "You build the foundation and then you add the ornamentation."
The musicians who play are all free-lancers brought in just for the studio sessions. Some play with the Utah Symphony, some with other groups, some teach, says Meredith Campbell, who made arrangements for the 23 string players needed for the project and also serves as concertmistress for the Orchestra at Temple Square.
There's a special knack to being a studio musician, she says. "You come in, they put the music in front of you, you play through it a couple of times and then they push the record button."
With Salt Lake's vibrant recording scene, there is a lot of demand for studio musicians, says Campbell. "It can vary from three to 40 times a month. The average is maybe four sessions a week, on different projects."
But she is very excited about this one. "I love Kenneth's work, what he writes about, how he writes, the beauty of his voice. It's a wonderful project."
Castleton conducts the orchestra, since he did most the arrangements and knows how he wants it to sound. (Cope doesn't consider himself a conductor, so he has Castleton conduct his arrangements as well.) They all wear headphones, so they can hear how it sounds in the booth and with little clicks — called a click track — to help with the timing.
Gibbons and Cope sit in the darkened booth, in front of a panel filled with dozens of buttons and sliders. A projection screen above translates the recorded sound into colored bars — red, purple, yellow — different colors for each recording session.
Once the strings are in place, it's on to the other instruments. Keyboards. Guitar. Drums. Woodwinds. The musicians come in, play their parts — maybe an intro on one song, maybe the ending on another, maybe bits and pieces all the way through. Each measure is numbered for easy reference, and there's a lot of talk back and forth between musician in the recording studio and the men in the booth.
"Am I too loud on that?" asks woodwind specialist Daron Bradford. "No this is a bigger, more powerful part," says Castleton. But then, "try again on 69, we need to get a little sharper." And "take a little break after the dotted quarter note."
It's not a simple process, says Castleton. "You have to pay attention to notes, to timing, to overall feel and flow."
At one point, Castleton and Cope wonder if a part would sound better with a bass flute instead of the alto flute. Bradford, who has brought along a half-dozen or so instruments, pulls out the other one and gives it a try.
That's the great thing about working with Bradford, says Cope. "He's got such incredible range and ability."
Bradford figures he owns and/or plays 63 instruments — which puts him much in demand as a studio musician. "But after 10 years in computers, it's great to be back doing music full time." (He also plays with local groups, including the folk band Enoch Train, and teaches at BYU.)
He's only using five or six instruments on this project. Switching back and forth takes a minute to get your sensitivities back, he says. "After playing the oboe, the clarinet seems so huge."
But this session has gone very smoothly. "This is a dream session, working with these guys," he says.
After a quick lunch, Cope begins the vocal tracks. He prefers to sing in the afternoons, he says, so his voice has a chance to warm up.
The first song they will record is "Breathe in Me," written by gospel singer Michael W. Smith and Wayne Kirkpatrick. (Cope's record company has gone through Smith's publishers to get permission to record it.)
Part of Gibbons' job is to set up microphones to get just the sound he wants. And it can vary from song to song, he says. "Some are good for brass, some better for vocals. When you want a little different attitude on a song, maybe another mike will work better."
There is both art and science to this process, he explains. You have to know the physics of acoustics, but you also have to understand the aesthetics of sound. As technology has changed, and the industry has moved to computers and digital recording, it can get pretty sterile, Gibbons says. "Sometimes you want the warmth of the old tube radio, so you look for ways to recreate that."
He selects and sets up the microphones, and then Cope slips on the headset that will provide the background music recorded so far.
Cope sings through the song three or four times, making what are called "passes." Then the difficult part begins, what is called vocal editing or "comp" work.
Gibbons and Cope go through the passes note by note, phrase by phrase, line by line, selecting the best one to be used for the final version. (Because he is also producing the album, Cope does it; often a separate producer will perform this task.)
It is tedious work, requiring ears trained to catch every minute particle of sound. "The goal," says Cope, "is not just to have it be in tune, but to capture every nuance of emotion."
(The hardest thing, laughs Gibbons, is leaving the studio where he has to pay attention to every detail, to go to one of his kid's junior high band concerts.)
The great thing about working with Gibbons, says Cope, is that he is also a musician, has sung and recorded with his family. "He's a great engineer and gets the sound just right. But he also is a musician with great tonality so it's like an extra ear. You can't turn to every engineer and say, 'What do you think?' But I turn to Barry a lot."
Gibbons is equally complimentary. In doing comp work with Cope, he says, "You get to choose the best of the best. Not every singer sings all the passes in exactly the same tempo, or even the same key."
What seems like a laborious process, has really gone very smoothly, says Gibbons. And about three hours later, they are ready to move on to the next song, "Sweet Jesus," written by Nashville's Gary Chapman.
They had hoped to get three songs done this afternoon, but are happy to settle for two. Tomorrow is another day.
Once all the recording is done, Gibbons will still "mix and master" the final version, tweaking and polishing until the whole thing is as good as he can make it.
And then, says Cope, it is turned over to his record label, Excel Entertainment Group. Excel does the cover art, will decide on release dates and marketing. Sometime in April, "Hear My Praise," the finished CD by Kenneth Cope will hit the store shelves.
It will be the result of countless hours of work on the parts of dozens of people, who have poured as much skill and expertise into the project as they can. But after all that, there are still intangibles involved. Sometimes, says Cope, you have to go on intuition. "When it's right, you just feel it."
It's all part of the mysterious, magical alchemy of making music.
E-MAIL: carma@desnews.com