This is the first in a series on mastering in general and Sterling Sound Mastering in New York in particular. In the second part I will talk specifically about Sterling and what prompted me to choose them to write about.
I have written previously about mastering. The production chain of records is something that fascinates me. It can be simple or complex depending on a wide range of genre, session and production decisions and considerations. Something that all commercially released recordings have in common is mastering (a recording issued without mastering attention may well be pilloried as poorly mastered).
My limited understanding indicates widely differing philosophies when it comes to mastering for different physical media. When it comes to vinyl records (and shellac 78s), the sound is literally inscribed or “cut” into a master disc from which stampers are made, which in turn press the impressions originally found on the master disc, or lacquer onto records. This means that with vinyl records, the ideal of transferring the sound heard in the recording studio on the monitors after mixing and mastering has to be paired with the practical considerations of fabricating a physical product where the resistive properties of plastic that is cut with a diamond and sound frequencies that are heard by the listener interact.
When it comes to digital there seems to be a much more obvious bifurcation of two schools: the “flat transfer” contingent, who want to attempt a digital facsimile of the analogue source material (or release a digitally made recording with minimal processing), and the “loudness warriors” who seek to exploit the decoupling of sound quality and the technical limitations of cutting records to make recordings which at first sound louder than adjacent ones.
In reality, genre concerns surrounding the programme material will likely dictate the relationship of the mastering to these two extremes. Because so much music is issued, it is possible to find ample examples of both of these schools: Beach Boys vs. Black Eyed Peas, for instance. But the majority falls somewhere in-between. It should also be noted that high volume is often a desired characteristic on vinyl because it means the music is more likely to be louder than the crackle when the record is played. 60s Motown singles have a reputation for being compressed for the same reason that CDs are compressed today. Of course regardless of intent, it is very difficult to achieve the same kind of constant high volume on vinyl records that can be found on CDs.
<p>You will hear many opine that the “Loudness War” (which I believe exists) is killing music. The truth is unsurprisingly more nuanced. A song like The Black Eyed Peas ‘I Gotta Feeling,’ contains numerous devices to assault the listener (an analogous comparison, not homologous). In addition to the usage of dynamic limiting and compression to achieve a blaring quality when played loud, the song uses a highly obvious keyboard part: a descending cadence on the beat. You may have noticed a sizzling quality to this part that makes it more annoying than simply its static compositional properties.</p>This comes from the use of distortion (either pushing the stem track into the red and overdriving it and synthesizing harmonics, or excessively applying a variety of “exciter” process, which also adds harmonics. Harmonics are sound frequencies multiples above the frequencies (fundamentals) from which they are derived or synthesized. All musical instruments generate harmonics; it is through electronics that pure sine waves are made. Electronics can also be utilized to add harmonics, most obviously in the case of electric guitar. I understand the cello exhibits similar harmonics to the distorted electric guitar: in one case they are “natural,” in the other they are “synthesized.”
In the case of ‘I Gotta Feeling,’ the use of harmonics for excitation begins to dwarf the fundamental thing they intended to be exciting. The artifice upstages the actual keyboard part. You might feel like your ears are burning but rest assured, chances are that no one is spreading rumours about you. There are multiple readings here: one is that will.l.am is a great designer who picks the most direct means of imparting poetics, here aping the characteristics of lasers down fibre optic cables—instantly penetrating the human sensorium with new information. Some may grumble that he’s destroying music—this is not fair and it markedly overstates his influence.
In circumstances like this, quibbling about the amount of compression used in the mastering process misses the point. It is appropriate here, when considering the programme material. What is a better example? In their review of Cold Cave’s Cherish the Light Years, Pitchfork pointed out that it was over-compressed. This certainly bears out in my experience of the CD version, which I own. Incidentally: I wrote a review of it at some point last year when I was working on my reviewing style (note writing etc.) I am publishing it for the first time here. You will notice I did not pick up on the compression in my review.</p>
Personally I find that over-compression grates over time. I may give the Cold Cave a listen in the coming days. I expect that the loudness treatment will be rather apparent. At first you don’t care because the music is novel, but after a while your brain gets sick of relying on tonal cues from the drums for the beat as opposed to loudness cues. We expect drums to be loud when they are banged. But if there’s little differentiation of drum transients in the mix of sounds that we hear, then what we hear can't necessarily be described as a "hit." It strikes me that our enjoyment of the music can be dependent upon something similar to the suspension of disbelief. Best Coast’s first album is another good example of this, there could well be issues of autotune at work there, too. The vinyl LP may be better than CD in both cases but I haven’t heard.
I for one heartily recommend listening to Television on vinyl as opposed to the recent CDs issued on Rhino Records. The admittedly light loudness treatment lends an artificial quality to the sound. I find that the vinyl records are just “right”—the correct reference. Like seeing a film at the cinema. Of course the CD sound may play over the engine noise of a car better: CD is a portable format, after all.
If you’re hearing more and more about the “loudness war” then it may be due, at least in part, to the increasing prevalence of sonic visualization. Gone are the days when visualizing signals was left to engineers with oscilloscopes. Most media players act as multiple rudimentary meters. In addition, software like Audacity—which is free—will paint the entire wave forms of a track on your screen. We’re all used to it, this isn't news. Many professionals have begun to complain about music fans “listening with their eyes:” checking out wave forms of recordings visually and then proceeding to turn up their noses at the result without listening. Well, no one enjoys having their work pilloried on the internet.
For all of the prejudices I have here exhibited or sought to expose in others, I really have to finish by opining that if it sounds good, then it probably is. Because I’m teeing off before talking about some records of mine that happen to be mastered by Sterling Sound it’s probably better to think of this as writing around. I wanted to share it, though, because for me writing about music is a process of association. It repeats, renews and shares new historical associations, but poetically it also gives insights into another’s musical sensorium. Beats writing “stone cold classic” and calling it a day, anyway.
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