That "last 10%"

[Shooshie]

When recording and mixing a piece of music, sometimes it feels like sculpting music, and the mixing and mastering is like the final polish on a beautiful marble sculpture, frozen in time, a testament forever to the creative moment that produced that music. The closer you get to finishing it, the more you become aware of that, and the harder you work to make it perfect. Every phrase perfectly balanced with all the voices in their proper places. All lines are clear to the ear, and every fade perfectly joins cuts and splices so that there is no evidence to suggest that it was recorded in more than one smooth take. Fade-outs sound natural, and... well, you get the point. You've put extra effort into the automatic faders, and the result is a musical sculpture to rival Michelangelo's La Pietà.

Except that it's not. Music is in motion. It's a kinetic art involving the vibration of everything within earshot of the sound source. That means that floors, ceilings, curtains, walls, glass, wood, air... everything is in motion. And because everything is in motion, the playback can never sound like the original recording or the final mix, unless (theoretically) it's played back in exactly the same place it was recorded and/or mixed, and at exactly the same volume, and on the same equipment on which it was mixed. In other words, your finely sculpted mix will always sound different anywhere else you hear it. Sometimes it may sound even better, but that's rare. Usually it sounds worse, and often it sounds alarmingly worse, sometimes to the point of embarrassment.

How much difference is there? The materials and environment of the listening space can make a tremendous difference, and one need only walk around the house with a hand-held recorder while talking, going into different bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen, porches, solarium, garage, and outside. Oh, and don't forget the car. Then listen back to it in one setting to hear how much difference acoustic environments can make to the recording itself. Playback works the same way.

But there's more. As I mentioned in another thread a few days ago, the Fletcher-Munson curves describe our hearing sensitivity at different pitches and loudness. Both affect our hearing in profound ways. At one level, you may get the bass and mid-highs adjusted so that a vocalist sparkles atop the accompaniment. Turn the level down, and the bass disappears. Turn it up and the bass dominates. Record a piano, and you may have lines all over the place, not at all representative of what the artist performed. And there are similar curves describing the sensitivity of playback equipment.

I'm reminded of Vladimir Horowitz, whose performing trademark was the ability to bring out parallel lines so clearly separated that you could hang your laundry on them. In effect, he was mixing the music, live, adjusting everything as he went for the hall and acoustic environment as his ears heard the reflections all around him. His recordings always sounded amazing, though the live ones sometimes less-so than the studio versions.

I'm leading somewhere with all of this. The question it leaves us is: "if we can't expect any listener ever to hear 100% of what we put into a mix, where do we draw the line and leave the rest to chance? Obviously, you want it to sound pretty close to the polished marble statue of a master sculptor, metaphorically speaking. At the same time, once you're at 90%, each further percentage point of perfection takes exponentially more time, and time is money and energy. Then there's the phenomenon of phantom changes as the ears tire, the attention wanes, and you keep "crafting" your lines to a point at which they don't resemble at all what you THOUGHT you had in mind. How many times have you come back to a mix the next day after a long, intense session only to hear it and gag? What on earth were you thinking??? Thank goodness for Time Machine and/or Unlimited Undo.

So, we're dealing with acoustics, random playback conditions, aural physiology, mental acuity and unconscious changes of direction (essentially: overkill). And correcting for each of those things can cause you to spend more time than the basic mix took, costing you a lot of money.

More often than not, it's the artist who wants to go there. Maybe you're a seasoned pro, aware of all these phantom mixing ghosts, but your artist insists on getting it "PERFECT" to his/her ears, no matter what it costs!

So, how do YOU determine when you've done enough? How do you tell when you're through? How do you tell someone else of quite different opinion that it's time to quit? How do you explain that you're at 90%, and that's about as good as it's going to get? "No, no," they may say, "I can hear much room for improvement. You simply don't have ears like mine! I'm not like the others that you record. I can hear how to make this great! Your ears have become jaded over time, and you can't hear what I hear..." Yadda, yadda, yadda.

I've had many such experiences, and I've handled them in different ways for different people. The one way I completely regret — to the point that I consider it a blight on my career — was the time that I let the artist dictate how far we should go. In my defense, I was acting on orders from the producer, who was also convinced that only the artist could ever know how to mix this music. The artist, after all, was a genius! We went so over-budget that I didn't get paid for about six weeks of work (this was a multi-faceted project), and the end result was, to my ears, an embarrassing mix. So, since then I've never even considered allowing an artist to determine how to mix the music, or how far to take it. Most are actually amazed at how far I go, so that's not usually a problem.

But when you can still hear so many places for improvement, when do you cut it off? You can hear that another fader move would fix a little ambivalence in a musical line, maybe where the artist momentarily spaced out. Should you? Or have you done enough already? I guess a very good way would be to establish a time and budget beforehand, and when you reach that point, you say "TIME!" Then stand up, walk off and promise a gold master in 3 days (or whatever).

It occurs to me that if you put a time limit on your own work, you'll come up with more creative ways to get it done, and you will rapidly improve your technique, skill, creativity, and reputation by doing it this way.

Well, I'm just curious how you guys decide when to call it quits.

Shooshie

[Dan Worley]

They're never done. I'm only forced to give them up.

"Perfect" for me is to leave things a little rough around the edges. Some would say a little too rough, but I like things to stick out and grab attention and feel a little out of place or uncomfortable at times. I find music more captivating that way. The thing is, it's hard work and it takes skill to know how far not to go and how to get there without it sounding sloppy or too polished, if you know what I mean.

I have to mix to please myself. If a client wants something that goes against my ear or my taste, I have to find a way to reconcile it and make it work for me, too. I've learned so much by doing that, and quite often my clients have better ideas and a better feel for the mix than I do. After all, it's their song. I don't have to like the song, but I have to be satisfied with the mix. I find the collaboration very exciting.

There's been many, many times when a client was happy with the mix but I kept doing different variations because I wasn't satisfied, and then sometimes, after twenty different versions, I went back to mix 1 or 2.

The hardest part for me is to listen to my mixes on other systems outside the studio without instantly hating what I'm hearing, even if I'm listening on systems that I'm very familiar with. My brain just has a hard time making the subjective switch. I cannot make good decisions if I hear it too soon after hearing it in the studio. I usually have to wait a couple of hours or a day or overnight, and then hear it fresh on the other system.

I usually work with calibrated monitor levels, and then I run through the low, medium and loud volume checks, and mono compatibility, which is still important to me. I do enjoy mixing in mono for adjusting EQ and levels and then switch to stereo after that. I do not do any surround mixes.

So, they're never done for me, but they do get done... eventually, because of deadlines and budgets and needing to get paid, and people's inpatients.

[David Polich]

Easy for me. I'm done when I stop being tense about it...whether it's a mix or a master, an
arrangement, programming of sounds, or the actual writing of the tune.

To make it even easier, years ago I stopped being concerned about whether my work sounded
good on everyone else's playback system. I don't even bother to check it in my car or on my
living room stereo or any of that. If it sounds good to me on my near fields, I'm done. There
are just too many variables to consider regarding what systems other people listen to.

I think it was Brian Eno who said no one ever finishes an album, they just give up on it. Plenty of truth to that. You have to know when to give up on it and move on. It's like raising kids, in
some ways. Once you send "the kid" (your track) "off to college", there's really no way of controlling what will happen next. It's out of your hands.

[Gravity Jim]

"Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with it is a toy and an amusement. Then it becomes a mistress, then it becomes a master, then it becomes a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster and fling him to the public." – Winston Churchill

"I have a hard time getting going for a job. I’m sort of kicking and screaming the whole way, in terms of writing and recording and all that. It can be kind of unpleasant, because it’s the process of becoming less and less dissatisfied with whatever idea you’re working on." - John Linnell

"Leo Fender never felt he had come near completing his wish to get the sound he wanted to hear, and I didn't do any better than he did." - Les Paul

[BKK-OZ]

Art is never finished, only abandoned.

- Leonardo da Vinci

[HCMarkus]

The difference between a professional and an amateur is the professional unleashes his creation upon the world while it is fresh, relevant and inspired, while the amateur continues working until no one cares anymore.

[cuttime]

The difference between a professional and an amateur is the professional unleashes his creation upon the world while it is fresh, relevant and inspired, while the amateur continues working until no one cares anymore.

Can I quote you on that?

[HCMarkus]

The difference between a professional and an amateur is the professional unleashes his creation upon the world while it is fresh, relevant and inspired, while the amateur continues working until no one cares anymore.

Can I quote you on that?

I think you just did!

[Tobor]

The difference between a professional and an amateur is the professional unleashes his creation upon the world while it is fresh, relevant and inspired, while the amateur continues working until no one cares anymore.

Can I quote you on that?

I think you just did!

Applause here as well! Yes, yell 'cut' and print! Get it out!

(Especially since no one probably cares anyway....)

[davedempsey]

Nowadays most of my work is mastering. For me the job is finished when there's nothing about the collection of tunes that I can improve & I can take an audio CD home, listen in my living room and not want to go back to the studio. At that stage virtually all clients are happy and any that aren't are most likely in need of another mixing session
The other way I know a job is finished is when there's no more money available to continue.....

I agree with Shooshie - every listening environment is different, but that is something we can't control or change, so I'm not concerned about it. If I'm happy with the sound at the studio and on my home system then I know that it'll travel well and the listener will not have an issue in their environment. After all, it's where they listen to everything else they purchased or stole, so although they may not be hearing the product for all it's worth the law of averages says it'll sound just as good to them as any other product.

[MIDI Life Crisis]

Then, of course, there are the recordings of Robert Johnson and Fats Waller, and even some classical composers from the early 1900's. Perhaps state of the art for the day, but raw and focused on the music.

Well, I have to confess that similarly, I spend more time on composing and performing the work than editing and mastering the recording. Not that those are bad things, but frankly the audiophile side of music creation holds much less interest for me and my clients as well.

By way of analogy, I think you can polish something to a point where you see your reflection in it but loose something of the thing itself. Often, it is the imperfection (yes, even "mistakes") that makes a thing unique and interesting. In the case of art (any art, not just music) gilding the lilly sometimes only serves to obscure it's inherent beauty and intrinsic humanity.

When I'm convinced (not necessarily "happy" but *convinced*) I've said what I wanted to say in an unambiguous and reasonably disciplined way, I'm done.

Hence: I'm done.

[Dan Worley]

Then, of course, there are the recordings of Robert Johnson and Fats Waller, and even some classical composers from the early 1900's. Perhaps state of the art for the day, but raw and focused on the music.

Well, I have to confess that similarly, I spend more time on composing and performing the work than editing and mastering the recording. Not that those are bad things, but frankly the audiophile side of music creation holds much less interest for me and my clients as well.

By way of analogy, I think you can polish something to a point where you see your reflection in it but loose something of the thing itself. Often, it is the imperfection (yes, even "mistakes") that makes a thing unique and interesting. In the case of art (any art, not just music) gilding the lilly sometimes only serves to obscure it's inherent beauty and intrinsic humanity.

When I'm convinced (not necessarily "happy" but *convinced*) I've said what I wanted to say in an unambiguous and reasonably disciplined way, I'm done.

Hence: I'm done.

Well said. Good points.

[daniel.sneed]

[...]The other way I know a job is finished is when there's no more money available to continue.[...]I agree with Shooshie - every listening environment is different, but that is something we can't control or change, so I'm not concerned about it. [...]After all, it's where they listen to everything else they purchased or stole, so although they may not be hearing the product for all it's worth the law of averages says it'll sound just as good to them as any other product.

Great!

[buzzsmith]

I'm never 100% satisfied, but I work until I think I can't improve it anymore. If there is not a rush, I might revisit a day or so later and make an adjustment or two if something is bugging me. To me, my studio output is the "Buzzy Sound".

On a slightly different note, Shooshie mentioned Vladimir Horowitz.

About 30 years ago, we had the absolute pleasure of him hearing him live in Jones Hall here in Houston.

It was an abnormally very cold sub-freezing February day in Houston that afternoon and everyone in the theater was still bundled up and a bit chilled as we waited for the artist to appear. (Solo piano-no orchestra.)

Vladmir strode onto stage shortly to much applause and began to play...magical!

After the first piece (more thunderous applause) he acknowledged us and walked off stage. The stage was empty for about 5-6 minutes and the crowd was silent at first, then soft murmuring. I was wondering if it was just his age or style.

Then, from stage left came two bulky khaki clad stage hands who approached the master's piano. They looked at it a bit, and then one gave it a gentle butt-nudge near the top right where it begins the gentle curve to the left side of the piano and then they left to some scattered applause and some amused laughter from the crowd.

Horowitz shortly reappeared to more applause and gentle laughing and sat down and finished his concert.

To this day, I still wonder if this was a kind of "ice breaker" at his direction or if the piano was not just perfectly aligned with the front line of the stage!

In any event, I had NEVER heard such tonalities from a piano...I was hearing brass, woodwinds, low strings, everything...from just 88 piano keys.

Amazing touch.

Gorgeous.

Probably the best concert that I ever attended.

Buzzy

[David Polich]

Then, of course, there are the recordings of Robert Johnson and Fats Waller, and even some classical composers from the early 1900's. Perhaps state of the art for the day, but raw and focused on the music.

Well, I have to confess that similarly, I spend more time on composing and performing the work than editing and mastering the recording. Not that those are bad things, but frankly the audiophile side of music creation holds much less interest for me and my clients as well.

By way of analogy, I think you can polish something to a point where you see your reflection in it but loose something of the thing itself. Often, it is the imperfection (yes, even "mistakes") that makes a thing unique and interesting. In the case of art (any art, not just music) gilding the lilly sometimes only serves to obscure it's inherent beauty and intrinsic humanity.

When I'm convinced (not necessarily "happy" but *convinced*) I've said what I wanted to say in an unambiguous and reasonably disciplined way, I'm done.

Hence: I'm done.

Well said. So many of my favorite records contain mistakes, or were actually tracked poorly
or mixed badly or have bad edits (where you can clearly hear a bad tape splicing job). Or
the bands/artists playing and performance were sloppy, but the spirit was awesome.