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The
Snack Time Studio Saga
by
Fred Brockman, 1997
While the Snack Time 8-track recorder was top of the line
(bought from a rich friend who was sick of it) the rest of
the equipment there was about as cheap as it gets. It's safe
to say that Shellac would never record there. When standing
around drunk at the back of friend-rock shows with other producer/studio
dudes who were spewing out the names and makes of their new
expensive toys I was forced to brag about how close to the
drums I had to sit and how I eq'd a track while wearing earplugs.
They'd chuckle and then return to their conversations.
With no prospects of buying actual good equipment and never
(present company excepted) getting the chance to work in real
studios I had no choice other than embracing the plain, common
sound I was hearing. I began to rely on the sad truth of Snack
Time in order to provide some spice. First, being located
in a practice space, there was always a lot of good, loud
background noise that bled onto the quiet songs and prevented
actual silence from occuring. Next, Snack Time was blessed
with an abundance of resident drummers, all of whom had about
three snare drums that they never seemed to turn off. The
bass player just had to start playing and the whole room would
repond with rattles and hisses. I started searching out these
sounds, eventually placing mikes next to a rattle to make
sure it was included. Finally, the room was so small and the
bands were so loud that it really didn't matter where I put
the mikes since everything bled into everything else. All
of the above was then magnified by the fact that since there
was no control room I couldn't actually hear what I was recording
until the song was finished and we began to mix. By then the
members of the band being recorded were either too drunk to
notice the sound "quality", or had used the bathroom at the
practice space and were so upset by what they saw there that
they couldn't be bothered to complain. Later when they got
home and listened to the final mix it would become evident
that their guitar wasn't really in tune, that the bass player
had lied when she claimed she knew the chords to the bridge,
and, sadly, that the singer did not in fact have the perfect
pitch he always bragged about at the back of friend-rock show
to drunken producers.
Later, when the record appeared at Pier Platters I could blame
it all on bad mastering and cheap pressings.
Snack Time had two other notable features. First, each band
who recorded ther was required to bring us (Snack Time owners
Lyle Hysen and myself) a snack. These snacks were not eaten,
they were stapled to the wall next to the mixing board and
displayed as a tribute. Second, the place was home to Snacky
& Poundy, two stuffed animals. Snacky was a big, big mouse
and Poundy was a little red dog. Poundy went on to star as
a Yo La t-shirt, I haven't heard from him since. Snacky was
murdered by Lyle and me, stuffed into a dumwaiter in a once
cheap apartment on Willow street in Hoboken.
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