When to Turn Off the Mics

I’m working on a new album right now (more on that eventually), and I’ve really been hammering at my vocals. I’ve never been comfortable behind the mic: in the past I’ve always hoped to hand it to someone more talented than me. But for my solo projects, it’s just been easier to sling vocals myself.

However, that doesn’t mean I’m good at it. Pretty far from it. A fact that’s led me to a real journey of self-discovery and contemplation. In particular, it’s created scenarios where I’m left wondering, “Was that it? Is that the best I can do, or should I punch in and have another go?”

How do you know when you’ve got the right take for the song? Almost more importantly, how do you convert unease into satisfaction with a take? When can you confidently stop recording?

It’s not a problem unique to music — how do you know if a sentence is the “right” one for the novel? Or if that brush stroke is “correct”? I’d wager all artists struggle along these lines eventually. I also don’t claim to have an answer: not a universal one, anyway. But here’s a few things I’ve noticed from my own journey that might help you (in a pinch).

1. Did you have fun with the take?

This one’s pretty simple and (seemingly) a bit silly. Music should be fun. Ask a professional, playing music for a living can be arduous and might feel like clocking in at times. But ultimately, hitting drum heads, plucking strings, etc. is worth doing because it’s a good time. So before you hit record for the millionth time, take a moment to reframe the effort. Are you capable of having fun with this right now? If not, are you able to walk away and come back when you can relax a bit? If you can, do it. Recording is a marathon, at times. Like any runner ever, you’ll need a break sooner or later.

A quick example: on Origins I did a song called “Opus” that has a wicked hard (to me) drum part. I just couldn’t get the odd time signature in my head, and I spent hours hammering away at it. I eventually had to give up after, quite literally, take number 50-something. I was angry, felt beat up, etc. It wasn’t a good day.

The thing, though? I got some rest, woke up the next morning, hacked it out in one go. I don’t think I even had to punch in, maybe once or twice for polish. I didn’t magically get better, I just felt more positive and rested the next morning.

If you’re in the studio and don’t have the option to sleep it off, don’t fret, though. This can be a mental exercise as well. Take a moment to just center yourself. You don’t have to be grateful to be playing music, or even super appreciative of the opportunity. Especially if it’s your job to churn out the hits. It might just be “another day at the office.” But before you hit record, remind yourself to relax into the take. Try to calm your mind and reconnect with your ears first. Music starts there, and you need to hear a song before you can contribute to it. So take a moment, maybe even hear the track again from the top without the pressure to play to it. Dance a little bit, maybe tap a foot. Do whatever you need to do in order to reconnect with that aural core.

2. Music is emotional, just like you should be

This one doesn’t have to be a huge point, let’s just toss out an example — jam bands, man. Why are they so popular with folks that dig them? It goes beyond simple appreciation. I myself would follow Goose to the end and back. Obviously heaps of folks dig the Dead or Phish.

Is jam band music objectively good? Sometimes it objectively isn’t. But it is always emotional when done well.

Yes, there’s the stereotype of the Dead Head up to their eyeballs in mood-enhancing chemicals. Which (probably) helps. But the entire point of a “jam” is the long game. The ups and downs of a song, the emotional highs and lows. It’s the musical personification of “it takes the rain to see the sun”. When Goose hits the crescendo on a particularly good night’s “Arcadia”, it’s a 20-minute payoff that’s stupid worth it.

Let’s loop it back to your take, sitting there in the studio. It isn’t a requirement, but if you hit “stop” and have tears streaming down your face, odds are you did a good job. Obviously you don’t have to go quite that far every time. But let’s track what it’d be like to do the inverse: next time you need a solo or a fill, just play the most basic thing you possibly can. Do a G major scale up and down, over and over. It’s technically perfect — all the notes are right, what’s the problem?

Obviously doing that would be pointless, it has zero emotional core. Compare that (just using pure muscle memory) to something like John Frusciante’s solo in this number. It isn’t a mind-blowing technical feat. But it is extremely grounded emotionally. If you’re feeling a deep sense of connection to the heart of the song, I guarantee you’re in the ballpark to doing a good job.

A quick note here — overwhelming joy isn’t always the end result. I love and adore TOOL, but “overwhelming joy” isn’t quite the emotional core they’re offering. Same goes for Opeth or Rush, etc. You don’t have to label what the music is making you feel, but be aware of the physical sensation. “Red Barchetta” through a massive set of speakers is a smile-inducing affair, trust me.

Feel like you’re seeing eye to eye with the song’s emotional core? Nice, you’re doing good work over there.

3. How would 12-year old you feel about the take?

Let’s wrap it up with a really clear indicator that the last take was solid gold.

If you played that track back for pre-teen you, would they fist pump the air? Would they throw up the horns and head bang to it? Good job, you’re done!

It’s always tempting to “just one more go” a session. And yes, there’s probably a note or two that could be improved. Yes, that little flub in the otherwise totally groovy take is an imperfection. You could go back and smack it again, over and over. And you’re not wrong if you want to do that. But if the question you’re asking is, “Did I do it, can I go home now?” it’s worth asking that little kid how they feel.

A quick aside, I’m definitely not saying “good enough” is good enough in all cases. Don’t get it twisted, we all make mistakes. But acknowledging the existence of a bad take doesn’t invalidate this point. A 12-year old, in many ways, has a more intuitive sense of what’s working and what isn’t. Us silly adults have preconceived notions about such things. A kid that’s super into rock? They’re going to hear “Free Bird” and say, “That was dope, let’s play it again.”

To be even more concrete, it’s pretty hard to listen to any of the playing on “War Pigs” without smiling. Or try to stay still listening to “Uptown Funk”. Those are hugely successful examples, but the point should be pretty obvious. Rocket ships, dinosaurs, laser tag — these are all things that rule. What else rules? A totally righteous, wailing guitar solo. It isn’t rocket science, it’s rock and roll, baby. Don’t overcomplicate it.

Shameless Plug

I don’t think anything I’ve done is absolute perfection, but that being said — I quite like the solo on “Slice of Blue” from the last record. That song is attached here, give it a go.