It's Not Quiet

Today is a recording day at my house. My husband is working on a demo for a bunch of his friends who are in a band. They're amazing and play out quite a bit in town. But they don't currently have an album to give out and want to get one put together. So, since hubby is a rather talented producer, he has been working on this project for some time. (read: every night before he goes to bed)


They did a lot of the recording live and are adding in more tracks individually as time allows. This isn't necessarily a top priority right now so it gets weekend scheduling for whenever a particular bandmember or two can make it over to our studio.

It's funny because hubby calls himself a hobbiest when it comes to recording, and he doesn't get paid so he's not officially professional, but I put him in a much higher category than just hobbiest. Everyone in our circle of friends (and beyond) knows his reputation and abilities and put their full trust in his work, knowing it to be high quality. Granted, we don't have a soundproof room or every single piece of equipment he wishes he had, but he has put out many an album from our studio (or living room or dining room) and no one is any the wiser. He is an excellent tech.


Anyway...today the studio has also exploded out into the dining room. And Iggy the musical cat has placed himself on top of the guitar bag directly in front of the huge amp cab. It's not quiet, mind you. The point of the amp is to obtain the perfect, loud sound. But Igor loves it. I believe he thinks he's helping too.




It's rather entertaining, because you are only hearing the one guitar rather than the whole band. They've all got headphones on and are listening to the rest of the parts while the guitarist plays along to get his part down. And all I hear is the random strumming with no connection to any whole. My imagination trys to fill in the remainder, but at the same time I like the distinct singularity to only one part. In a way, it is its own art.


For anyone who has never done any recording, it is a laborious, tedious, repetitive process. Meticulous and perfectionistic in every way. They can hear minute things that most of us would never notice a difference in. And most of us don't care. You hear a finished project and think, "Yep, I like that," without realizing many of the intricate details. While hubby would listen to the same song and have to redo it fourty-five times until it is up to his standard.

I'm just thankful we don't currently have a live drum kit in the dining room.