The best laid plans of mice and me.

The classic Studer tape machine at Panorama Music Studio

I'm driving people insane.

I'ts true. I'm even at the point where I'm actually driving myself insane. And it's on account of my attention to details.

Yesterday was a perfect example of that kind of behaviour. We were supposed to put the final nail in the coffin that is Motherpearl's new album, and finally put the endless mixing and tweaking behind us. But yesterday didn't really turn out the way I wanted, and in the midst of getting everything ready for the studio, the phone started ringing. 

Suddenly I'm not only on standby for a gig at 22:00, I'm also up to my neck in meetings, errands and appointments. All this happened in something like 30 minutes and pretty much screws up my whole imaginary timetable. Silently cursing the total lack of "asshole-genes" in my system, I begin re-organizing everything.

Some two hours after the scheduled mix start, I arrive at the studio and meet up with my drummer and bass player who are so excited to start the session.

I, on the other hand, am in hell. 

Still not able to control my beating heart over the panic I felt caused by the chaotic turn of events, I glare at the gear in the back of the car, now rendered useless since the preliminary booking fell through. I enter the studio with a sensation that the whole universe is mocking me.

To top it all off, some of the files for the mix session hasn't come out the way I wanted. When working on different platforms, (me in Logic pro, and the studio is Pro Tools based), you need to make sure that the audio files are tweaked, adjusted and printed correctly so that it's just a matter of adding them into a new project . As I'm yet again subject to the punchline of the universe's joke, all the vocal tracks are now all wrong.

I rush into the adjoining room, breaking out the laptop in my stride and begin the painstaking work of figuring out the problem, finally succumbing to the fact that I have to start all over again. In the meantime the others are having a laugh in the control room and enjoying the fact that the instrumental parts sound pretty awesome.  

This is where my attention to details becomes a problem. There's only so much you can do with instrumental parts in a mix, and after way to many interruptions by the others, asking how things are going, I realize that I have two choices; 

Let it go and submit the files in the order they are, or cancel the session and do it another day.

I gather the vocal tracks and head on into the control room. 

By now I'm mentally exhausted and only able to stare at the console in front of me, listening to what everybody else agrees to be an awesome song, a great mix and an amazing performance on my part.  

I can only hear the mistakes, the glitches, the things needed to be done. The bass player and drummer look at me like "wtf..? Are you nuts? This is the greatest fucking album ever!" I' too tired to make any more comments on the mix, and in fear of being physically abused by the rest of the band, I give in and shut up.  

We get a copy of the song to evaluate, and set a new date for the final touches to be made, and get back in our cars. During the entire hour-long drive home through the dark and misty night, (by now it's 23:55), I sat and listened to the entire album for the first time.

Then it hit me. I've totally forgotten that this isn't a super expensive studio album. This is recorded by myself and three other great musicians in a rehearsal space, with some cheap soundproofing, good mics, and a very interesting vocal booth. I lost myself in the process of trying to make the album what it really isn't. It's supposed to be gritty, It's supposed to have some flaws, and it's supposed to bare it's fangs at you. Because It is, (as Extreme once put it), a monster.  

And I'm not afraid of monsters.

Not anymore.