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Mixing: Down to the Details

My previous two blogs were about how to get started mixing first with the vocals, then working with the band. Once you start to feel like you’ve got mental energy to spend on other things, it’s time to zero in on the subtleties. These are the details that take the sound from a functional mix to part of the story. You as the mixer start to have room to make the show your own and add some artistic flourishes!

So what does that mean? At this point you have the vocals at good levels, you’re blending the band and pushing solos, so what else is there to do? In my very first blog, I talked about what makes a functional mix versus a good one. Up until this part of my mixing series, it’s been about functionality, so now we’re going to look at how to shape a show.

First, it’s time for an extra bit of script analysis. Some lines in a show will ask for special attention. These are plot points, setups, and punchlines for jokes, and sometimes special moments like ambient noises or ad-libs you want to highlight. Plot points are things like character introductions, foreshadowing, and establishing scene/time that might get lost. On Saigon, there is an abrupt jump three years ahead, something the characters briefly reference, so I’d try to pop those lines out to help the audience understand what was happening. On Mean Girls, when the Plastics make their entrance and each character gets a little bump as they start their introductions, especially Gretchen where we also took out the vocal verb to help make her quick, wordy bit more intelligible.

Sometimes you’ll have sections where multiple people are all singing at the same time. In Phantom of the Opera, you go from “Notes” or what we call “Managers,” a scene where the seven people on stage have rapid-fire lines back and forth to “Prima Donna” where those same people are now singing on top of each other. Your job as the mixer is to highlight the parts that are important to the story: Carlotta making her distress abundantly clear, Raoul and Mme Giry debating about the Phantom, and the managers bemoaning dealing with the aforementioned Prima Donna. You’re keeping everyone up so you maintain the musical texture that the song uses, but make sure to push the important bits just a little bit more.

Script Excerpt from “Prima Donna” in Phantom of the Opera

This was a scene that made me fall in love with mixing every time I got it right. Managers are technical and all about getting the mics up at the right time and Prima Donna is a complete 180 into artistic blending. It’s a section where you have to bring your best every single night and I thrive on that kind of challenge. There was a while between when I learned how to do a good mix with multiple faders up to finally making it to the point where I could truly do it line by line, but that show when I finally managed it was a highlight of my early mixing days.

Back to the more technical bits, we have laugh lines. For these, you have the setup, the punchline, and the return. You typically have to push all three of these: if the audience can’t hear the set up they won’t get the joke, and then you need to signal that we’re returning to the flow of the show again with the return, usually over some last bits of laughter. Frequently, the set up comes right before the punchline, but there are sometimes the punchline will be a callback to a previous scene or act. These setups are even more important to accentuate for a later payoff.

Along with the plot, you can shape emotional volume. The goal is that the overall sound for a show is cohesive and smooth, but that doesn’t mean monotone; you’re trying to make sure that all the levels make sense in the context of the show. My favorite songs to mix are the most dynamic ones. Both “World Burn” from Mean Girls and  “Little Brother” from Outsiders are great examples of songs that start very quiet and work their way all across the emotional spectrum to a big dramatic moment by the end. In both, the end wouldn’t have the same impact if you started the soloist at a normal speaking level because you wouldn’t have as much room to build. The range from deathly quiet at the start to all-out power at the end can drive the emotion home.

 

playbill.com Studio sneak peek at “Little Brother” from The Outsiders

As you work on more and more shows you’ll start to develop an ear for how the dynamics of the band want to shape a song, but there will always be some element of trial and error. Until you find what the band is consistently doing, there’ll be some shows where you build too fast and don’t leave yourself anywhere to go and other times when you don’t start early enough and have to rush to the end. Once both you and the band settle into the pacing of the songs and you learn how dynamic your actors are throughout a song, you’ll get more accurate and more consistent on how far and how fast you can push everything.

I had to relearn that on Outsiders. The music is different from a traditional musical theatre show and it took me a while to resist the urge to push for that big opening number or a huge finale when the music didn’t actually want to do that. For days I ended up fighting with myself on the faders, trying to get mics up hotter so I could push the band more, but reaching a point where there was only so much that I could do. I left rehearsals feeling like the mix was okay at best, and I do not like that feeling. When I got the note to pull things back and let the music sit where it wanted to, I could finally see what was supposed to be happening. When I didn’t try to force it into something it wasn’t, I didn’t have to manhandle the dynamics or push the actors too much because I was going too big with the band. That made all the difference and drew me back to take a hard look at the rest of the show to see if there were other times I was working against myself.

Something that will start to set you apart as a mixer is learning to correct on the fly when people are inconsistent. This could be an off day where an actor is sick or a sub-musician is in or you have someone who is just consistently inconsistent. Ideally, everyone does the same thing every day, but our job is based on dealing with the human elements and the reality is that nothing will ever be exactly uniform day in and day out. This means staying engaged and focused on the show with your fingers on the active faders and keeping your ears engaged. As you learn how an actor sounds, you can start to tell when something sounds off (they’re tired, sick, not paying attention, someone they want to impress is in the audience, etc) and even sometimes anticipate when they might go off course and you either have to give them some help or rein them in.

Sometimes those anomalies and small mistakes help you find things that work better. I’ve had times when I left the band to focus on something else and realized there’s a fun feature for someone that I want to highlight. (Or you learn that the musicians will make noise as soon as they’re done playing and it’s imperative you pull them out quickly.) On Mean Girls, our Aaron would give a little chuckle after he repeats Cady’s embarrassed “grool” (“great” + “cool”), and when I noticed he did that, I left his mic up for that extra beat. It gives his character a cute moment where you see he’s starting to fall for Cady and it draws the audience in.

Adante Carter as Aaron Samuels and Danielle Wade as Cady Heron in the 1st National Tour of Mean Girls (photo credit: Joan Marcus)

 

With all the talk of getting into details, this is a point where we can easily fall into the trap of over-adjusting. Sometimes for long scenes or songs, we’ll feel like we have to change something or we’re not doing our jobs. It’s hard to accept that sometimes doing nothing is the most effective path. On Les Mis, at the end of “Bring Him Home” there’s a moment when Valjean and the orchestra would start their final note. Most days I didn’t have to do anything: they did a natural resolution to the end and I’d learned that trying to push it didn’t sound right, so it was one of the very rare moments I would actually take my hands off the faders and step back. For a beat, I got to take in the picture of the stage and just breathe. To this day, whenever I hear that song, I still have a physiological response where the muscles in my back and shoulders will automatically relax because it triggers that subconscious reminder of that beautiful moment and being able to trust my coworkers and simply let go.

Nick Cartell as Jean Valjean in the 2017 National Tour of Les Miserables (photo credit: Matthew Murphy)

As the mixer you are in the unique position where you’re simultaneously in the middle of the show and the middle of the audience at the same time. Lighting and the spot ops are in booths and everyone else is backstage. You’re the only one who gets the chance to breathe with the actors and the flow of the music as you hear every reaction from the audience at the same time. Theatre is one of the few places where we find ourselves comfortable to let emotions loose in public. I love it when you can hear people start to sniffle or cry in the audience or feel the entire theater gasp as one because it means they’re with us. Shows are so much more fun to mix when that happens and digging into these details takes the audience from simply watching actors to investing themselves in stories where they care about what happens to these people.

The best thing you can learn to do is pay attention to what’s going on around you. Listen to the notes that the director is giving the actors or the composer is giving the band. Get your head out of the script and off your hands and see what’s happening onstage. The more you watch and listen, the more you’ll learn about what the vision for the show is and the better able you are to make intentional choices to further that goal. If the creatives can tell that you’re heading in the right direction, they’ll give you some leeway to figure things out. If the actors and musicians can trust that you’re there to support them even when they’re having an off-show, they’ll give you better performances. None of us work in a vacuum in this business and the sooner we learn that, the better we can make the show.

Mixing: Band Next

In my last blog, I started talking about how you can approach mixing when you’re just getting started. If you haven’t read it, here’s the cliff notes version: vocals are your first priority. Make sure you get the lines out (especially in tech), no matter how many faders you need up at the beginning. Then you can work towards line-by-line mixing from there.

Once you’re comfortable enough with the vocals and can start paying attention to other things, what’s next? If it’s a musical, the answer’s easy: the music.

The band is more self-sufficient than the vocals. They’ll do some dynamics on their own, so they can take care of themselves to a point while you’re settling in with the vocals. For the things they don’t do on their own, you’ll tend to notice and take care of them naturally. If the music is too loud and it’s hard to hear what the actors are saying, you pull it back. If we’re heading into a song, bring them back up to support the singing. All of that is a good start, but at this point, those moves are reactive as you notice something and adjust to compensate. Once you can give more attention to what’s really happening in the music, you can anticipate and be proactive.

There’s some work you can do even before you get into the theatre. If I’m working on a show that already has a cast album I’ll do what I call a Music Map. I’ll go through each song and write down which section or instrument has the melody or is featured. Even if the recording isn’t the exact version I’m going to do, it gets me in the ballpark. It could be just the sections (brass, strings, percussion, etc), or even a best guess. So what if I mark down that it’s a trumpet that has a solo and it ends up being a French horn? It’s paperwork that’s only for me, so it doesn’t have to be perfect. More than anything it gets me to put a critical ear to the show a few times so I’m more familiar with the music and feel more prepared going into tech.

This was one that I did for Les Mis: it’s a quick jot of “Valjean’s Soliloquy” with the part of the song (usually by the lyric), which section has the focus if I picked out a specific instrument and anything else I noticed like supporting instruments. You can see that it’s a rough sketch, not the end product. There are things like the note of “Keys?” towards the end, which meant I wasn’t sure if it was an acoustic instrument or a keyboard patch. Again, you’ll find out for sure once you get the musicians in the space, but this gives you a reference if you feel like you’re missing something.

Every song has a shape to it. Some get progressively louder, building to a big musical moment at the end, other times it’s a quiet ballad that has some builds but may stay pretty quiet. Others might be a mix or jump from singing into dialogue and back again, going up and down fairly drastically in volume. As the mixer, you help maintain that shape to get the right emotional build. This typically happens in one of two ways: supporting or managing.

When you’re supporting the band your faders move the same way as the dynamics. So you’re riding the fader up with the big crescendo to give the moment a little more punch, or as the music fades you’re bringing it back at the board so they settle where you need it in time to make a pocket for the vocals. This is how you usually treat slow songs (love ballads, dramatic solos) and shows that have a larger, traditional orchestra. Acoustic instruments tend to use more dynamic control, so you’re helping them along.

On the flip side, when you’re managing, that means you’re moving in the opposite direction of what the dynamics are doing. Say there’s a moment where it feels like it should get bigger musically, but logistically what’s happening is only part of the pit was playing at the beginning and when the music feels like it’s going to bump up a notch, the rest of the band comes in. Everything gets louder naturally with the additional musicians, so you don’t need to push to get the dynamic increase you want. You might even have to pull them back to make sure everything doesn’t get too big too early or overpower the singers.

Managing happens more often with electronic instruments, which might not have as much fine control over their dynamics with pedals and presets. In some cases, they don’t have any, like if a keyboard patch is a trigger. That means it doesn’t matter how hard or soft the keyboard player hits the key (velocity), the sound it triggers will always be at the same volume.

Once you have an idea of the musical shape of the show, start noting band moves in your script. These will become a part of your choreography. I’ll use numbers if I know where the band faders usually end up, or markings like crescendo, decrescendo, or circles for quick bumps if the moves are more general.

Along with overall dynamic moments, you’ll also begin to pick out individual solos or features where you may have to give additional support or managing, just on a smaller scale. For example, if a flute and a trumpet each have a moment in a song, they’ll likely have to be treated differently. The flute is naturally quieter, so you’ll likely have to push their mic to get them out over the mix. However, the trumpet may not need any help (or you might have to pull it back) depending on the player’s lung capacity and sense of subtlety.

Try to remember that no rule is absolute. Although trumpet players are very good at being loud, that doesn’t mean you’ll always pull them back. In Mean Girls, there were a couple of moments where the trumpet had a James Bond-style riff and I’d have to push it quite a bit to get them out over the rest of the band. So treat each moment as its own entity. In sound it’s easy to get caught in traps of comfort and appearance: an eq doesn’t look quite right, and you never usually have to push the drums, so why would you need to now? Try to listen first and make adjustments accordingly. Does the eq sound right? Can you not hear cymbals in this section? When in doubt, ask for a second opinion. Sometimes you just need a set of fresh ears when you’ve been listening to the same show for weeks or months.

Once you learn where the band moves are, you can focus on the details. Different songs will want different approaches: sweeping orchestras lend themselves to fluid, continuous movements while quick, pop songs tend to have quicker bumps or more dramatic pulls.

 

Here’s a video of “Why God Why?” from Miss Saigon. It’s mostly one person singing, so the attention is on the band’s moves. My main focus is to make sure the vocals (faders 1-8) are always supported—not overpowered—by the orchestra (11 and 12), but I can still fill in the music around the lyrics so the overall level stays consistent. There are pushes with the orchestra in the emotional builds which are followed by quick pulls to get the band back and make a pocket for the vocals again. Around the 3:35 mark, there’s a pull where I tuck fader 11 back a little bit more than the rest of the band to compensate for a louder key patch: an example of the managing I talked about before in action. Overall, the song starts out quiet and has slow builds, each getting a bit bigger than the one before. There’s a quick pullback when we go into the faster section, the emotional build with Chris and the Vietnamese, and then the big finish at the end with a bump.

Music is an essential part of a musical, but it can do so much to enhance the story on an emotional level. As a mixer, you get the chance to put an extra flourish on some of those moments to drive them home. One of my previous blogs covered some of those times in-depth and how good it feels when everything comes together. Because the next level of working with the band is learning to adjust it live to the actors so you get that emotional impact. When they’re able to go for it, you have more leeway to make the moments bigger, or if they’re under the weather or having an off day, you adapt and pull the music back so they still land in the right place relatively. Like in “Why God,” you can literally hear Chris’s frustration building as the orchestra gets bigger, but how big the orchestra can get depends on how big Chris is going to go.

It’s these details with the music that make a lot of shows more fun to mix. There’s a feeling you get when you hit a bump at just the right moment and just the right level that keeps you coming back to see if you can do it again and again. I’ve been incredibly lucky that I’ve worked with some people who are both amazing musicians and lovely humans, and you always want to let that talent shine. I can’t count the number of times one of them has come up to me, so excited because a friend came to see the show and told them they sounded good. If they know that you’re taking care of them, you build trust, which ultimately leads to a better show for everyone. So take the time and make the effort to learn the music. Some people will actually notice and appreciate it, others will just know that the show hit a little deeper this time. Either way, it can make a world of difference.

One of Many Roads to Broadway

Happy New Year, SoundGirls followers! As I reflected on the year gone by, it occurred to me that since the post-shutdown theatre reopening in the spring/summer of 2021, I haven’t written much about my specific career journey. In particular, I haven’t yet blogged about getting to work on my first Broadway show! Making my debut was a big milestone for me, and getting there has been a long and winding path. Also, the journey is different for everyone. So even though my story is individual for me, I thought it might be interesting and helpful to share. So, strap in for a ride on my road to Hogwarts!

Intro: A Catch-up to the catch-up

I’ll try to make this quick. Starting in the summer of 2021, my life was a whirlwind of mixing out-of-town tryouts (4 in the span of 12 months) and picking up freelance gigs in CT and NYC. I did NOT get to spend a lot of time at home, and while the opportunities were good for my career, the necessary sacrifices SUCKED for my marriage and my mental health in general.

So, in the summer of 2022, I worked on changing some of that: choosing my gigs more thoughtfully, reclaiming some of my headspace, and making plans to get myself actively moving toward some of my big career goals. I reflected a lot about that journey in a blog I wrote about the potential dangers of emotional attachment to one’s work which you can read here.

How to Own Your Work Without it Owning You

That period of reflection led me to make a lot of good choices going forward. I advocated for time off from my gigs to go to family events and a friend’s wedding. I reached out to an old connection who was on a show I wanted to be involved in, and he hired me for the entire 4-week shop build. I quit a show for the first time ever (!!) because I recognized that despite it being fun to mix, the overall process was making me miserable. And as fate would have it, that reflection and work paid off in a big way just a few weeks later.

Hard Work + Network = Broadway Debut!

 

First day at my new workplace!

 

At the end of 2022, I was offered a job at Harry Potter and the Cursed Child as a substitute A2. Like many opportunities in this business, this one truly was proof of two timeless career adages: 1. Luck = preparation meets opportunity, and 2. Don’t underestimate the power of the network.

Bear with me for some long but important preamble…At the very beginning of that year, I lost out on a big job I had been hoping to get. While the hiring decision wasn’t about my work or anything personal, I was still devastated. For a while, I questioned everything about that experience and what led up to it; Had I not done a good enough job during the tryout to be worthy of moving on with the show? Was I kidding myself to think I might have been ready to mix on Broadway? Had the designer been unhappy with my work in the first place, and if so, had I failed to notice?

It is SO easy to get in your head about getting rejected, especially in this biz, and I let myself fall prey to the doubt at first. However, in the weeks that followed, a funny thing kept happening: every couple of days I would get these random emails from sound people I didn’t know saying that I had been recommended to them by the designer of this show that I didn’t book, and was I available for future work? I was relieved, humbled, and grateful every time this happened. It was a total validation of this designer’s trust in me, and getting these recommendations (plus doing a lot of unpacking with my amazing friends and my therapist) allowed me to slowly let go of a lot of that self-doubt I had been harboring.

Fast forward to August, and yet another of these emails pops up. This one says something to the effect of “Hi, my name is A, I got your name from B, who got your name from C [the designer from before]. I am looking for a mixer for this workshop of a musical and oh also by the way do you sub? I’m looking for another A2 swing for my regular show.” In the signature of the email, it said “Head Audio, Lyric Theatre,” which is where Harry Potter plays. I couldn’t believe it! At this point, I hadn’t even worked for B (the middle person in the network) yet, but this original designer’s trust in me was enough that this co-sign of a co-sign counted for a lot. My now-boss called me a few days later to talk over the details, and I started training at the Lyric (and working on the workshop) less than a week later 🙂

Broadway: the same, just bigger

A fresh new double-rig for one of our lead actors, built by yours truly.

So, there I am backstage on Broadway. I hadn’t been an A2 in a while, and of course I had never worked on a Broadway show aside from one shop build, so I was definitely nervous about jumping in on such a big show. It turned out, thankfully, that I had nothing to worry about. Everyone at the Lyric was so amazingly nice and helpful. From stage management to dressers to my fellow sound folks, everyone was quick to point out all the important details, like where I had to stand, what I had to do during each quick change, and even the order in which people needed to move so we don’t have a backstage collision! This may seem small, but it’s the combination of thousands of details like this that makes a show as huge as HP run smoothly.

HP is so big that, unlike many shows that just have an A1 and an A2, it takes a sound crew of FOUR to do each performance! 1 person mixes, 1 runs all the sound effects and playback, and 2 people deal with mics backstage. Any of those jobs would be too much for one person, given that there are many hundreds of sound cues, multiple mic swaps and quick changes, and 56 channels of RF to keep a handle on! When I sub there, I run either of the 2 backstage tracks and depending on whether the absent person is a FOH person or a backstage person, the other regular crew people shift around to the other positions to cover the absence.

The biggest thing I have learned/had reinforced for me the most over my year-plus at the Lyric has been that having a good attitude counts first, and then you do good work to back it up. As I mentioned, it has been ages since I had run a backstage track, but I was ready to listen hard, keep my head down, follow instructions, stay in my lane, and not make a fuss. And that almost counted more than if I’d already been great at any of the arts and crafts that go into building our mic rigs. The ability to stay calm and adapt when something goes amiss is truly the most important quality a good stagehand needs, and cultivating mine has served me well every time I am there.

Looking Ahead

All told, booking HP felt like a big culmination of my preparation and work finally paying off. I’m still chasing many dreams, but it felt perfect to have a few big doors open for me. I have gotten to work on a lot more Broadway shows as part of the shop, load-in, and load-out crews. This allowed me to network with even more people in the “big leagues,” and move into a much higher-paying tier of work at venues like Lincoln Center and The Shed. Thanks to these gigs and HP, I was even able to make my first year of Local One money. I’ll explain that in more detail in my upcoming blog series, “IATSE 101,” but basically it means I am now 1/3 of the way through the 3-year process of joining the New York City chapter of the Stagehands union, which will be a huge deal for my career when I finish. All in all, it feels really good to know I’m on the right track.

The interior of the Lyric Theatre on Broadway

So Happy New Year SoundGirls, and best wishes to you all for career and personal success in 2024! I’ll be back with the first installment of “IATSE 101” in the Spring. Until then, I’ll be in the dungeons of Hogwarts, pinching myself ☺

Who’s Who?

 

This is a blog I should have written years ago. But better late than never, right? So 20(!) blogs in we’re finally getting to some theatre basics: who’s who in the world of theatre audio. I’ve touched on some of the jobs in other blogs, but today we’re going to hit all of them. After all, you can’t be what you don’t know, so let’s make sure you know what your options are!

The sound team is usually comprised of

The Sound Designer

The designer is in charge of the big picture: creating a design concept, communicating with directors and designers, and delegating to their team. What their exact duties are in relation to their team will differ from team to team depending on the skill sets of each person. Some designers are composers (those tend to do a lot of plays since the music for a musical is done by someone else) or are more focused on the design aspect of creating soundscapes or effects. Others are more involved with the technical side of things: the gear, the system, etc. Either way, designers will specify the gear they want to use (console, speakers, mics, processing, etc) and collaborate with the director and other designers on the artistic scope and special needs of the show.

The strengths of a designer help determine who they look for while creating their team. Most designers end up working with associates or assistants that have complementary skills. If they’re more creative, they might work with someone who can provide insight into what gear can accomplish what they want to do. If they’re more technical, they might want someone good with coaching a mixer or creating sound effects.

The Associate Designer

The associate acts as the designer when the designer isn’t around. They have worked with the designer before (usually on multiple projects), know how to set things up to their liking, and the designer trusts them to take care of projects on their own. They might have started as an assistant or a mixer with that same designer and they work closely with the Production Audio to get the sound system put together and installed.

Sometimes a designer has multiple associates. When we teched the Les Miserables tour, the designer, Mick Potter, had three tours teching at the same time: Les Miserables, School of Rock, and Love Never Dies. Each tour had an associate to get the sound system loaded in and tech the show. Mick split his time between the three shows, trusting his associates to get everything ready and roughed in, scheduling his time so he could be at each show for their mission-critical moments like Quiet Time (when the sound system gets tuned) and Cast on Stage (the first day the cast is onstage in mics for tech). The associates could go to him with questions when he wasn’t there, and he didn’t have to actually be in three places at once, even though it very much seemed like he was for that month. As you can see, with multiple projects going at the same time, having an associate that they can trust is absolutely essential for a designer.

The Assistant Designer

The assistant’s job is very similar to the associate. However, while an associate can act in the designer’s stead, the assistant typically has to get permission before making changes. The division of labor depends a lot on the dynamic and skill sets of the team, especially if there’s both an associate and an assistant on the show.

The Production Audio

This is a job I talked about in detail in another blog when I was in Production for a tour. Production is in charge of taking the system specified by the Designer and turning it into a reality, accounting for every connection, cable, piece of gear, nut and bolt, and loading it (or installing it in Broadway’s case) into the theatre.

Advance Audio

The advance position is found on larger tours that need extra people to load in, but not during the show run. An advance crew usually has at least an Advance Carpenter, Electrician, and Audio, but may also have a person for rigging, automation, or other specialties. They get to a venue before the show-to-show crew (the ones that run the show) and start loading in. When I was on the most recent Phantom of the Opera tour, our advance crew started in the theatre on Monday while we were loading out and traveling to that city and we’d join them and continue loading in Tuesday and Wednesday, then they’d leave on Thursday. On tours like Aladdin, the advance load in lasted several days before the show-to-show crew arrived, which isn’t surprising when you consider they had a magic carpet to set up!

 

The Mixer (A1)

This is what most of my blogs focus on, especially the first one, but in brief, the mixer’s job is to run the show, blending vocal and instrumental mics to execute the Designer’s concept for how the show should sound. They are the head of the sound department which involves contacting the shop if there is a problem with gear, making sure the department (deck and local audio as well) have everything and all the information they need, and on tour talking to future venues and developing a plan for load in.

The Deck Audio (A2)

The A2 is responsible for running the deck track (mic swaps, handoffs, etc), maintaining microphones, and troubleshooting mid-show, and they will mix the show on a regular basis to act as a cover for the A1. (In NYC, sometimes there is a “non-mixing” A2, which means there is another person, not in the building on a day-to-day basis, who’s trained on the mix.)

Other jobs

Depending on the needs of the show, other positions may come up. Sometimes there are so many sound effects that the mixer can’t run them and accurately mix the show at the same time, so an Operator position is created for someone who is designated to run effects for the show. Or there might be lots of live instruments played onstage so an Instrument Tech is added to the show and may fall under the sound department.

That may not seem like a lot of people at a glance, but it can make for a lot of moving parts, and knowing who to communicate with for a given problem is key. So, who do you talk to when you have a question? During prep in the shop or tech in the theatre, it’s easy to get anyone’s attention because you’re all in the same room. Once the show is up and running and Design and Production have left the building, who’s your go-to now?

On tour my main point of contact is the associate; they’re usually accessible to double-check on things or so you can pick their brain. They end up being a natural choice because you end up spending the majority of your time in tech with them anyway.

For the first few moves on tour, I’d have the Associate check the preliminary speaker prediction I did, then review any adjustments I made once we were in the theatre. Once they felt comfortable that I knew what the Designer was looking for and could make informed choices on my own, they would check in less and less, unless I asked for input on something specific. They also got copied on the advance email I sent to my A2 before we loaded into a new city which had the plan for the venue, any special thing we might have to take care of, or if it would be a normal day.

They are also the contact for any comments or concerns that pop up in addition to the questions. Some examples are if there are audience complaints and you need some help figuring out which adjustment to make, or if the actors or management have requested something that will change the design of the show. One common request I’ve run into is actors asking for vocals to be put in the onstage speakers. This is usually something that is decided either in or well before tech and isn’t in the mixer’s purview to change. That gets sent to the associate either as a “can we change this?” or “please respond so someone higher than me on the food chain has reiterated that we can’t, and we can end this conversation.”

If the Associate needs to involve the Designer, they will. Other than that, the Designer might stop by on occasion, maybe every 6 months to a year, to check in on the show (in which case I’ll also include them on my advance emails for that load-in). Other than that, they may not have much to do with the day-to-day of the show.

If I have system or gear-specific questions, I’ll usually ask the production audio, since they’re the ones that built the system and spend a lot of their time around the gear. On tour, they might not have much to do with the show once it’s up and running, but in NYC you might contact both the associate and the production audio with questions. They might also be involved in finding people to sub on the mix or the deck track and figuring out training schedules.

One thing to mention is pay. Ideally, associates and production are paid what’s called “weekly” which is a weekly fee, past whatever salary or flat fee they got for production and tech. This is paying for their continued time and assistance to keep the show running and answer questions. However this isn’t always the case, so that’s something to keep in mind. If my associate is being paid weekly, but production isn’t, I might send my question to the associate first to see if they can answer it before asking production to spend time on something they aren’t getting paid for. Oftentimes, they are happy to help regardless because they want you to be successful and their name is still on the show, but some people may be protective of their time if they aren’t being directly compensated for it.

While we’re talking about communication, let’s touch on other departments that we regularly need to talk to

If I need to address something that involves the actors, but isn’t related to music, I’ll talk to the PSM (Production Stage Manager). They are the glue between all departments, managing the company’s schedules, communication, and on top of that running a show. Notes usually go through Stage Management so they know what’s going on and what to watch out for. From sound, our notes are usually simple: it could be that an actor’s mic placement was out of place, the A2 has adjusted it, but then the actor put on incorrectly the next show.  Or someone has changed a line or blocking that affects how or when I take a cue. This communication goes both ways: they’ll let me know if someone’s sick and might need a little help in their big moments, or if there’s trouble hearing something musically onstage and can I see if there’s anything I can do at the board to help?

Anything music-related will go to the MD (Music Director, who usually conducts the show). They’re your link to the musicians as well as the actors. If an instrument consistently sticks out where it’s not supposed to, or you need an actor to give you a little more in a quiet bit of a song, you can go to the MD with notes and they will be able to pass it along or work with the actor on the note if it’s a reoccurring technical problem in their singing.

Someone in the pit, besides the MD, will be designated as a Keyboard Tech. They are there to help if there’s a problem with the software controlling the patches for the keyboards. For sound, as long as we’re patched in correctly, we’ve technically done our job. We’ll never be asked to tune the timpani or restring a violin. However, keyboards are an exception where the instrument and the gear are so intertwined that we might be asked to help the Tech troubleshoot, even if it isn’t directly our responsibility. On the other hand, when we’re checking out the system during the preshow and test the keyboards, we would call the Music Tech to help if there’s a problem that a re-boot or some simple troubleshooting doesn’t fix.

For other issues, usually departmental or personnel, you go to the Head Carpenter or the Steward. The Head Carpenter is the head of the crew, submits payroll, sends out schedules, coordinates and oversees local and show labor on load in and out on a tour, etc. They are the ones you go to with logistical questions that involve special situations or the local crew, setting up work calls, or helping if there’s an issue among crew members. The Steward is there to answer questions about the contract and help if there ever seems to be an overstep or inconsistency.

Returning back to the sound team to wrap it up: interdepartmental communication is some of the most important. The A1 is the head of the department, so gets official communications like performance reports and is likely to be the first point of contact for notes. If the information is necessary or even just helpful, the A2 should know about it. The A2, on the other hand, gets most of the informal communication. They’re backstage, so they’re the ones within earshot if someone needs to pass along a quick note if Wardrobe has heard that one of the actors will be calling out for the evening show, or if there was a last-minute change in the schedule and the official email hasn’t gone out yet. Communication is always a two-way street, and an open policy keeps both parties well-informed and valued.

Sound is one of the few departments that touches every single other during the show run. Between com/video, mics, and music, we cover it all. Which means there can be a lot going on at any given point. Hopefully, these guidelines will help if you’re ever unsure who to talk to!

Time to Train

 

At the beginning of this year, I made a major life change

I left a tour to see what life would be like living off the road, specifically in New York City. Touring folk tend to fall into two camps: those who are planning to eventually go to NYC to live and work full time, and those who enjoy visiting, will go there for shop prep, but never want to live there. They’re either happy to head back to their home locals when they get off tour or plan to spend the majority of their career on the road. I’ve always been of the mind that touring was a phase of my career, not the endgame. I know I’ll miss it, I look forward to visiting for vacation coverage or tech periods, but I’m ready to try something new.

It’s rare that you’ll move to the city and immediately get a full-time show tossed in your lap (although there are people that move here because they have a job already lined up), so I came here with the intention to find work subbing on the mix for Broadway shows (which would provide income, but also counts towards qualifying days to help me keep my health insurance, plus getting to mix!) as well as working in the shops (for income and the ability to meet more people in the industry, so part socializing, part networking).

Thanks to my time on the road, I have some contacts here, so I came to the city with a rough semblance of a plan. Part of which was subbing on Funny Girl. The same sound design team I worked with on Mean Girls also did Funny Girl, so when I let them know I was planning to leave the tour and move to the city, they put me on their list of people they could call. It worked out that they needed to get someone up on the mix around the time I settled in, so  I was able to get approved by management and start the training process fairly quickly.

When you’re learning to mix an existing show

You usually have between two and three weeks (16-24 shows) to get from watching the show to mixing it and your training is live, during performances with a paying audience. I got approved about a week before I actually started (it took time to finalize a schedule), so I was able to get the script and an audio archive recording of the show to start. It’s a much shorter process than I’ve talked about in a previous blog, but I still retyped the script, added in my own annotations (all the while listening to the recording of the show so I could get familiar with it), and practiced mixing it all the way through at least once a day, going through my script, adjusting or adding notes or figuring out how to make page turns easier.

Once I was in the theatre I set a rough schedule of goals. I try to break it down so I watch the show at least once, only to watch so I can start to connect what’s happening onstage to what I’ve been hearing in the recording. Then I’ll use a couple of shows to watch the mixer with my script in front of me and make notes or mark questions. Next, I’ll ghost mix for a few shows, which is basically the same thing I did with my practice board the previous week, just in the theatre, during the show where I can see how my timing lines up with the mixers. Usually, you can make a side fader bank on the console blank, so I can mix at the console, next to the mixer, without actually controlling anything. After that, I’ll start mixing the show, a few scenes at a time, adding on more each show, and ghost-mixing the rest. Finally, once I’ve mixed through the full show, I’ll plan it out so I have a few shows left in the training period where I’m just mixing the show, getting repetitions so I can settle in.

It’s worth noting that as a sub, my script has far more markings than when I’m the primary where I learn the show in tech and consistently mix it afterward. A sub is someone they’ll call for sick days, vacations, or possibly for a brush-up if it’s been a while. All of this means that I might go weeks or even months between mixing (hopefully if it’s months, that’s where the brush-up show would come in), so I need to have more detailed notes instead of assuming that I’ll remember some timing or nuance.

When you’re breaking down the show into sections

There are a couple of ways to do it, based on how you learn best:

Personally, I prefer to learn a show first to last, and this seems to be the case with most mixers. After consistently mixing shows for a long period of time, I have a system for my script and notations to make busier, more complicated scenes easier to navigate. That way, jumping straight into a difficult scene isn’t as daunting. Plus, I found I don’t have to look down at my hands as often anymore. In my last blog, I talked about how I anchor the heel of my hands on the console and that muscle memory reference helps me know how far I’m throwing the fader. That means I can keep my attention on the script and what’s coming next instead of having to always check where my levels are.

However, when I’m the one responsible for training someone (usually when an A2 is learning the mix) I like to use the least to most complicated method. It tends to be a good way for people who are either new to mixing or don’t do it on a regular basis to ease into the show.

No matter how many shows you’ve learned or how comfortable you feel mixing, it’s a daunting task

The first show I started pushing faders for real on Funny Girl (I mixed almost the first 30 minutes of the show), I was so nervous: my palms were sweating, my shoulders were tense, and I was on edge the entire time. I try to keep in mind that everyone makes mistakes, especially when they’re learning, but that only does so much to ease your mind in a high-stress environment. However, as you start mixing chunks of the lives shows, the mixer is always standing by, ready to step in if you lose your place in the chaos of a busy scene or fumble a section and need a moment to regroup. They’ll gradually give you more space as you settle in because it’s also important for you to learn how to recover if you miss a pickup, but they’re still there to support you and get you back on track.

There’s a period after you’ve mixed a few shows and you’re getting comfortable: this is a danger zone.  This is where you’re prone to make more mistakes than at the beginning.

The first few times you mix a show you’re laser-focused and have plenty of adrenaline pumping through your system. As you mix scenes over and over again, that adrenaline starts to fade and you end up thinking about notes you got from the last show or a mistake you made before that you need to avoid. This is when the easy things that you thought you knew to start to slip and you make more mistakes.

I call them regression shows. In high school, we called it the “second show slump” when our first show would be great and full of energy, in the second show almost everything would go wrong, and then the third would finally be solid. Regression shows happen at different points on different shows and for different mixers, but there will likely be a point where you’ve mixed something enough times to feel confident and then out of the blue you’ll make a dumb mistake. When I was training on Mean Girls, I did well as I was learning the mix and flubbed a few smaller things like band moves or cues that were just a touch late. Then, when I was mixing the full show for the first time, I ended up missing two pickups that I’d never missed before, neither of which were in the scenes I was mixing for the first time. Same on Funny Girl: the first pick-up I missed was the fifth show I mixed, and it came with the third page (so a section I’d mixed all five times) as I was focusing on a band move.

Every time, you just have to get back up and keep going. The more mistakes you make, the better you become at recovering and sometimes you’ll even be able to catch them before you miss a line or stop yourself before you take a cue at the wrong time. The more shows you do, the more you discover better ways to help yourself learn which speeds up the process. Always ask for help when you need it: if someone’s training you to mix, they already know you can do it and they want to help you succeed.

Mechanics of Mixing

Mixing is an active experience

Anyone who’s watched me mix a show knows that I’m never standing still. I’m usually tapping my toes or bopping my head to the music while timing my fader throws. I’m constantly shifting my focus as I look up at the stage, down at my hands, or at the monitors on either side of me. I’m listening so my fingers can respond to the actors or musicians while keeping a thought on what’s coming up next. The actual mixing might happen in a small footprint, but there’s a lot going on. It helps to have a solid physical foundation to make your day-to-day life easier especially as so much of our job requires repetitive motion, which can take a toll on our bodies.

The first thing to look at is how you stand or sit at the console

If you’re sitting, it makes it easier because you can adjust your chair to the right height every time and call it good. Personally, I prefer to stand: it keeps me more alert and focused, especially when I’m on a show for months or years. Also, I’m short, so it’s easier for me to reach the top of the other fader banks of the console if I’m standing rather than having to get out of my chair or slide it any time I want to make an adjustment. If you prefer to stand as well, do yourself a favor and get an anti-fatigue mat. The floors at FOH can be anywhere from concrete to carpet to plywood, and it pays down the road to be nice to your knees now.

However, standing at the console can present a challenge if people mixing the same show are at different heights. If you’re short, you can stand on a case lid or apple box. If you’re tall, you can lift the console up with wooden blocks, or (if you already know when you’re in the shop) get racks that are taller and can make the board higher. Personally, I know that 16 space racks put the console at a good height for me to mix while standing.

In some cases, you might not able to find a good solution, or the console is already set to someone else’s height (if you’re a sub or A2 and the console is already set at a good height for the A1). In these cases, I end up using a chair, even though I’d rather stand. It’s far better to have a proper position and the minor inconvenience of having to get up if you need to make an adjustment than force yourself to mix in an uncomfortable position.

For me, a comfortable position means

That I aim for a console or chair height where my elbows are bent at a relaxed, roughly 90˚ angle so there’s an almost straight line from my elbow through my wrist when my hands are resting on the console, fingers on faders. If you’re too far above the console, your elbow ends up higher than your wrist and you put extra pressure on your joints as you naturally press through your palm with the way the wrist bends. On the other hand, if you’re too far below, your shoulders have to rotate outward to get your hands on top of the console and that puts pressure on your shoulders as well as the wrists.

Any rotation of a joint, even a small amount, can create problems over time. On Les Mis, I used my index and middle fingers to move the two orchestra faders, which is fairly common for most people. However, that rotated my wrist to an awkward angle which put stress on it. Eventually, my forearm muscles started to tighten up from that strain, which made it uncomfortable to mix. Even in the mix videos for that show (recorded after maybe 50-60 shows into the run), there are a couple of times where I have to find breaks to stretch out my hand or roll my wrist to relieve some of the tension. I went to physical therapy and got stretches and exercises to help (if something hurts, always go see a professional in a timely manner), but what actually fixed it was when I realized that I could use my middle and ring fingers for the band faders instead and that would shift my wrist to a better position. This eliminated the cause of the problem itself, and as a side benefit, I had my index finger free to make verb adjustments without having to move my hand off the band faders!

No one mixes the exact same way

So what works for me might not work for you, and that’s okay. I prefer to use my middle fingers as the primary for mixing dialogue, but some people use their index. It takes time and a willingness to experiment to develop what your mixing style looks like.

Here are a few things I’ve found that have helped me as a mixer

 

I use the heel of my hand as an anchor point while I’m mixing: as my hands have to move back and forth to different faders, that bone at the base of my palm always ends up resting on the same area of the console, just below the faders. From there, I have a general reference for where the fader is without having to look at my hands: I know based on how far my fingers are extended because my hand is always the same distance from the base of the fader. (With any rule, there are always exceptions: sometimes I’ll have to throw further than usual, so I’ll lift up the heel of my hand and use my pinky for additional stability, or a scene might have me jumping around more than usual so I’m not in one place long enough to truly anchor my hand. When it works, use it. If it doesn’t, find something that does.)

If my left hand (usually dialogue) is free, but my right hand (usually band, some vocals, and the button for sound effects, next scene, etc) is in the middle of a band move when I need to take a cue, I’ll cross my left hand over my right to hit the GO button, similar to playing a piano. I’ve gotten skeptical looks from mixers when doing it while I’m training on shows, but it’s something that works for me. It takes a little trial and error to make sure it’s the right choice and I’m not taking my hand off a fader when I really shouldn’t or my right hand actually does have a moment to talk the cue, but when it works, it helps to simplify my mix choreography.

I’ve spent a lot of time tweaking how my script works. While the script itself isn’t a mechanical part of mixing, how you integrate page turns definitely is. As I developed my system for marking and formatting, I made it my mission to condense the script to as few pages as possible and minimize how many times I had to reach up to flip a page. While that is a legitimate strategy, I found that it put my page turns at awkward points in the mix and had me scrambling at times. Over the course of several productions, I found that it worked far better for me to make sure that each page of the script ended on an easy (or as easy as possible) turn, whether that was a pause in the action or splitting a long line up over the end of one page and the beginning of another. This added a few page turns overall but put them at much easier places in my mix.

Something I need to continue to work on is my focus. Once I’ve been on a show for a while and I have the mix down, my mind will want to wander. Another mixer told me she uses yoga and meditation to help improve her concentration and her ability to bring herself back to the present and to the show. I’m slowly improving, but it’s another skill I need to hone, especially after I lost some of that ability while I didn’t have the chance to mix on a regular basis during the Covid hiatus.

However, consistency will help you as you develop better focus. While I obviously encourage being flexible, once you find what works, set a routine. That’s taking a cue on the same beat of a song, or presetting the band on the same word, even when you could do it anywhere in that sentence, or even taking a water break during the same line every show. Just like standing helps keep me focused when my show count-ticks into triple digits, consistency builds a muscle memory that has saved me more than a few times if my concentration slips.

The most important thing is to listen to your body and your instincts. If something hurts or feels uncomfortable, find a way to change your process so you don’t have to do that. If you have an idea for something that might streamline things, try it. The worst thing that happens is you go back to what was working just fine before and try the next idea when it comes along.

An Introspection on Theatrical Sound Design

Where to begin? An empty screen, a blank page, and a freshly printed script. Still warm from the printer. I love designing for theatre. It allows me to experience hundreds of different renditions of the same script. The same story, but from a different perspective. Theatre is the original never-ending story.

Thus, when I design for theatre, I begin by asking myself several fundamental questions. I approach it in its most basic form, a story.

What are some of the thoughts and emotions I feel during the first read-through?

I am currently sound designing and composing for a play titled The Revolutionist. I remember being awestruck, fueled with energy, and rereading passages several times. There were parts that I clung to and others where the action was so quick that it came spilling off the pages. This is what the script felt like for me at this point in my life.

If someone was to map this out they might call it a tension plot. Or a visual representation of the story arc. It might look like a rough line plot with descriptions. It might be a list of points with titles and corresponding symbols with emotive words. It could very well be a single paragraph talking about the story arc’s path. Understanding how the play feels and flows is important as a storyteller, regardless of how you explain the emotions.

Following this, you might begin to form questions or deeper contemplations.

What questions are asked and answered in the play and what is left unanswered? What might this mean for the overall storytelling?

As the collaboration process unfolds, some of these themes and questions will be brought up by the director and other designers. I think by asking questions, wondering why and how, and taking the time to look at the script as a team ultimately leads to a clearer and more cohesive form of storytelling. When you ask questions about the script, you are asking about the story, the author, the period of time it was written, and so many other factors. You are taking a step into that story. I find this perspective is vital when creating the musical world for live theatre.

Keep a dedicated journal or notebook. A sound designer’s grimoire.

I would suggest collecting all of these feelings, thoughts, and questions and writing them in a dedicated notebook. I have used the google drive method of typing notes and keeping my work mostly electronic until I had the pleasure of seeing a costume designer’s personal production notebook. It was cluttered in an artistic and beautiful way. It had swatches of fabric and sketches with descriptions. There were pages filled with words that illustrated her design. What I found on those pages was what I saw in her costumes. It was magical and I knew I wanted that for my artistic process.

I don’t think I could dedicate a grimoire for each design I do, but I do think it is beneficial for large designs and projects I am passionate about. As artists, our ideas flow fast and accumulate. We want to keep them close when we need to remember some tiny forgotten idea. My current one does not contain fabric swatches, but it does have a lot of character analysis, questions, poetry, and snippets of descriptive phrases. I create mood boards to go with the sounds and music I associate with characters and locations. By compiling these thoughts and feelings on paper in one place, I have easy and convenient access to all of it. Plus, you have the opportunity to get a fancy notebook if you choose. I am sure I have sold you on this.

What do these worlds/spaces look like? Sound like? Feel like? What are some keywords, sounds, and images you might associate with the vibe?

Each designer is going to be unique in their artistic approach. Whatever helps you convey what you have in mind is going to be the right approach for you. What something looks like can tell you so much about how it sounds. How big is the space? Are we inside or out? What creatures inhabit it? What kind of weather are they experiencing? Are we experiencing a non-diegetic moment filled with underscore and magical sounds?

Consider the tension plot. Where are we at in terms of emotions that you felt when you first read the script? Maybe you have added and developed these thoughts since then. What do those emotions infer to you? If you were excited and hanging onto every line when you first read it, then an otherworldly underscored moment might be necessary to tell that story and emotion.

What leads the story? The characters? History? An unseen fate? How does that flow? Is it a slow burn or is it staggering? How does this contribute to the story?

You might answer these questions differently compared to others on the production team. You are going to share similar opinions as well. This examination is going to help you further flush out the story’s arc. In Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, shifts in socioeconomics and the unknown fate of the orchard are what drives the plot of the story. In Eric Overmyer’s On the Verge, the story is forcefully pushed along by the three female lead characters.

The answer to these questions hints at how a designer might approach perspective and how their design can emphasize that. Audience members might find it easier to relate to characters unless they have been directly affected by the conflict in the story.  It is also going to help the production team guide the audience through the experience of the story. The actors on stage need our help to do that successfully. When all of these inner workings come together, the theatrical experience is truly magical.

How does the audience interact with the action on stage? Are we in the world or are we spectators? How does sound move around us or in front of us? Is it intrusive or is it invited? What does that mean in regards to how we tell the story?

Finally, we are in the physical theater space. The production team brings the pieces of the world into the playing realm. The play is becoming realized.

These questions will be answered as you have discussions as a team and with your director. The actor playing space will be decided early on. Some parts of the play might protrude out into the audience and some may remain separated. How the action and world move around the theater space is important because the sound might need to emphasize that. Or it might need to represent it solely. It could also contradict in an adverse effect.

This sound support might manifest itself in where you place speakers, effects like reverb and delay, panning and spatialization of sound cues, and the list goes on forever. I mixed a South Pacific where an invisible airplane taxied on stage, took off down the runway, got into the flight, circled around the perimeter of the audience, and flew away. For the most part, that show was separated by the viewer’s veil. The audience members were spectators. However, in that scene, the world of the Pacific crossed that divide and created magic.

Those are the instances that have audience members smiling when they leave the theater. They are special and so much fun for designers. It is a moment to flex your artistic muscles and shine in the spotlight. These scenes are made special because they are precise. The time was taken to consider when the audience becomes part of the world. They are special because they help us tell the story and in turn, we are better storytellers.

 

Doing Sound for Acrobatics Shows

The first time I ran a soundboard from FOH for a show with acrobatics, my main concern was not to get distracted by the act and by the anxiety that watching acrobatics and dangerous acts can cause. This feeling never goes away but you learn how to control it and to focus your attention on your cues and mixing. Especially when your track is a fundamental part of the show, as important as the music and sound effects can be, and especially when troubleshooting needs to be performed as effectively as possible in case of any surprise or technical difficulties because it can affect the act and performer’s safety. I might even claim that your mixing becomes second, safety is always first.

The way to achieve this concentration level starts by learning mainly four things: learn your gear, learn the act/show, learn the cue sheet and learn the music. As with any job, knowing the tools and gear you have to perform your job is fundamental, even getting used to the physical position of it and training your muscular memory can be important to efficiently do your job during a show with acrobatics that requires rapid response and accuracy. Many of the sound cues will be related to visual references, verbal cues, or musical cues during a show with acrobatics, so learning when an artist moves a leg or does a head bow, are as important as learning the key change in the music to trigger the next scene on your console.

As in other types of shows, acrobatics shows have a big crew of technicians backstage running different tracks to make the show happen. During the show (and rehearsals) we are all on Intercoms following a script read by a show caller. These scripts let each technician know the moment to run their specific cue, and it will be something like winch coming in, cue 27 go, door is clear, performers to position, house to 20% go, standby for …, etc. If you are running FOH, 99% of the time you won’t be listening to the show caller because there is a show to be mixed with both of your ears, but you may have cue lights triggered by them or you might have to hear momentarily the show caller channel to trigger your cue. Other show tracks for sound as monitors or backstage will probably hear the show caller during the whole show, adding it to the mix for the in-ears or carrying a belt pack just for coms.

Following artists’ movements to run cues, sound effects, or musical remarks might happen during the show too, like pushing the master for specific impressive moments of the acropachies or triggering sound effects for clown acts. This means that in addition to your audio console and processor you’ll run, you might always have another piece of gear with sound clips for this purpose, like Qlab, LCS Cue consoles, 360 Systems Instant Replay audio player, etc. Learning the acts and the different versions of them will help you follow the artist’s actions, if they decide to repeat an action or not, your cues may vary or not.

It will also be very important what to do in case of an emergency, you’ll be trained to follow emergency protocols depending on the situation (show stops, fire alarm, etc.) like triggering special announcements, playing waiting music, or even assisting artists on stage.

Cue sheets and track sheets are the best way to put together all the learning of the music, the act, and the cues. On them, you can specify preset instructions, the type of reference to take cues, what the cue does, when to take the cue, what the next cue is, and how fast you need to do it, act versions or show versions, etc.

Doing sound for acrobatic shows will always keep your attention to a maximum, there is no chance for missing cues or for big mistakes, and problem-solving will be your most valuable skill.

 

So, You Want to Get an Agent?

I have been a sound designer for almost 20 years and just gained representation earlier this year.  A fellow sound designer friend of mine basically just told me that I need to get an agent now that I’m 100% freelance.  I must admit that I was a little skeptical at first.  I’ve made it this long without an agent, why do I need one now?  Skip to almost a year later, and I’m here to say, it’s one of the best career moves I’ve made.  Here are some of the questions (and recently found answers) I encountered along the way.

What exactly does an agent do?

Your agent is the person who interfaces between you and someone who is interested in hiring you (producers, artistic directors, etc.).  They will handle things like contract negotiation, travel preferences, and even gently declining an offer you are unavailable for.  It’s not necessarily your agent’s job to find work for you, but sometimes that is an added perk.  My agent, for example, has long-standing relationships with many producers and directors, and sometimes they will come to her if they are looking for a specific kind of designer or artist.  If the gig seems like it would be a good fit for me, she will connect us.  In the short time that I have been with this agency, I have already gotten a few gigs that way.

How much does an agent charge?

Generally 10%.  My agent doesn’t make me send all of my jobs through her either.  If I’m taking a lower-paying gig, and I know there’s really nothing tricky with the contract, I can just let her know that I’m taking this gig and that I’ll be handling the contract myself.  She’s totally cool with that.  I just don’t make a habit of it, because I know that she gets paid when I get paid.  I always make a point to discuss these instances with her before diving in to make sure that everyone is comfortable with proceeding.

How do you find the right agent?

Talk to other people with agents in your field.  Mine came recommended by a friend, so we now both belong to the same agency.  It’s also important to note here that just because you choose an agent doesn’t mean they choose you.  Before I was officially in, I had a 3-hour long phone call with my agent.  We were just learning about each other and how we would vibe.  This is the person that will make decisions on your behalf, so they want to be aligned with you, your thoughts, your wants, and your process.  In turn, it is very important that you trust your agent to speak on your behalf.  It’s also ok to decide that you should keep looking if you feel it is not the right fit.

All in all, I have been truly grateful for my agent.  Negotiating contracts, contract language, knowing your worth, and speaking up for what you deserve are all really overwhelming things to take on alone.  Having someone to take on those challenges beside you is a great feeling, and knowing that you always have someone there with your best interest in mind is absolutely incredible.  When you are a freelance designer, you are a business.  You want your business to thrive, and to do that, you need to build a great team for your business.  Start with an agent, and watch your business grow.

 

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