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The Art of Listening Part Two

The Art of Listening Part One

Mixing sound is both an art and a science – a collaboration between the feeling, intuitive right-brain, and the analytical, logical left-brain. Last month I talked about critical listening and how, as a monitor engineer, to interpret a musician’s requests. This month we’ll examine how to separate different audio elements within a mix, and I’ll describe how I EQ individual inputs. It’s by no means the only way, but in 20-plus years of trial and error, I have found this method to be the most efficient and effective for me.

Monitor mixes need to be easy to play an instrument to / sing to as well as sounding good. They particularly need to provide clear, functional information about pitch and timing, so it’s worth considering what is supplying useful information to a monitor mix, and what is unnecessary filler. For example, some sounds are useful for an artist to pitch to or time to, or they carry a signature riff within the song; other sounds might create a pleasing fullness for FOH but reduce the clarity of a monitor mix and make it hard to play along to. This is especially true when it comes to hard-drive tracks – some elements are more useful than others. Sounds like strings and percussion are typically pretty helpful; effects might be less so. PFL is your friend when it comes to identifying different sounds, particularly when multi-tracks are involved because the sounds are likely to change from song to song. Frequent PFL’ing of your inputs will familiarise you with what’s coming in, and helps you to identify useful audio information.

Judicious use of the most basic of EQs – a high pass filter – goes a long way to eliminating unnecessary frequencies that can muddy a mix, and it’s my first port of call in the EQ process. Consider the range of frequencies that each sound exists within and where the defining characteristics of that sound lie in the audio spectrum. Let’s take a hi-hat as an example – there’s not much useful information in the lower frequency ranges, in fact, the mic is picking up spill from the rest of the kit – so it’s good to clean up and get rid of the extraneous low stuff. Personally, I set a HPF at around 600Hz for cymbals, but try it for yourself – solo the mic, use your ears and see what you think. Follow the same process with your other inputs, and tidy up anything that isn’t providing useful audio information – play around and consider where you might set hi-passes for different drums, vocals and so on. You can do the same thing with lo-pass filters, but be very careful with these. A bass guitar for example is primarily low frequencies, but if you set a LPF too low, you’ll lose a lot of the ‘attack’ – the finger-on-string sound which gives a bass its definition – because that attack sound is actually quite high up in the frequency spectrum. (Try boosting a bass guitar in the 5kHz region and see what you notice.) Likewise vocals – most of the action is in the 300Hz to 3KHz range, but set your filters there and you’ll lose low ‘body’, as well the ‘super-Ks’ – the very high harmonics which give a sound its ‘air’. So listen, listen, listen and experiment!

Identifying frequencies is obviously a vital tool for a sound engineer, and learning this skill really is just practice and repetition. I spent many hours in a PA company warehouse with a mic and a graphic EQ, making a wedge feedback and gradually learning what different frequencies sounded like. Once you’ve got a decent idea of that, you can start to refine your skills using the parametric EQ on the channel strip of the desk, and this is the next EQ tool after the HPF for your inputs. My preferred way to precisely locate a frequency is to solo the (muted) input on cans/IEMs, set a filter with a tight bandwidth or ‘Q’ around the frequency I’m looking for, and boost it quite hard – say by 10dB. Then I sweep the filter up and down slightly until the frequency I’m listening for me pops out (you can close your eyes as you do this if you like, to make sure you really are using your ears and not letting your assumptions fool you!) and with that identified I can then reduce or boost it as appropriate. You might want to keep the Q really tight if it’s just one frequency that’s over or under-represented (which is what I’d usually do with toms), or you might choose to do a big old scoop – my typical kick drum EQ has a wide low boost for ‘boom’, a wide high boost for ‘thwack’, and a wide gap in the mids where there’s nothing useful or sonically pleasing going on.

Approaching EQ like this means that you start to carve an audio landscape, with different instruments occupying different areas of the frequency spectrum. In my experience that gives a nice clarity and ‘separation’ to your mix – the opposite of audio ‘muddiness’. It’s all about trial and error, so grab every opportunity you can to play around – the advent of virtual soundcheck playback systems has made it easier than ever to refine your skills, so if you’re lucky enough to have access to such a system, make use of it. Tip – most high-end desk manufacturers have demo rooms set up with exactly that, and are usually very amenable to potential end-users coming to try out their equipment, so don’t be shy about calling them up and arranging a session! It’s a great way to hone your craft, learn different desks, and make contacts.

Until next month, SoundGirls – happy listening!

The Art of Listening

How often do you listen to music? I don’t mean throw some tunes on in the car or play the radio in the background, I mean really listen…. the kind of listening where you give the music your full attention, focusing on the qualities of individual sounds and noticing things which are not immediately obvious. That distant layered guitar chord; the faint timbale in the background; the different harmonies of the violins. The nuances of the reverbs, the tuning of the drums, the positioning of sounds within the stereo image. How often do you do that?

If you’re aspiring to be a successful professional sound engineer, I hope the answer is ‘a lot’.

This is the art of critical listening; the vital skill that every mix engineer needs, whether in the recording studio or TV suite, at front of house, or behind the monitor desk. Anywhere you find yourself with your hands on the console, you need the ability to zero in on sounds with Jedi-like focus, to discern what they add (or not!) to the overall mix. Only then can you begin to manipulate them to enhance the experience – because simply adding more and more sound sources indiscriminately can leave you with a nasty audio ‘mud’ from which it’s difficult to extract yourself. It’s a skill that is honed over time, but the good news is that can you start anywhere, with no fancy gear whatsoever.

You can start right now, by listening to lots of different styles of music on lots of different speakers and headphones. Never gotten into classical, reggae, country or samba? Give them a try!  I usually, listen to downloads in your car or on headphones? Beg or borrow a decent pair of domestic stereo speakers and play a favourite album on CD or vinyl. Clear your space of all other distractions and just listen. Prepare to be amazed at all the details you never noticed before. You can make it a game by writing down every sound you identify (if you don’t know the instrument, don’t worry, just describe the sound – it’s for your eyes only). Then try drawing a picture of the stereo image as though it’s on a movie screen. Is there a guitar sound to the left? A cello to the right? Are some things higher in the air, or nearer to the ground? Do you feel like some sounds sit further back, or closer to you? Do you perhaps start to feel that the stereo image is more 3D, than flat left and right?

Did you just blow your own mind?! I know I did, the first time I tried it – I can still remember the exact room I was in, and that was 25 years ago!

Doing plenty of listening practice puts you a step ahead when you’re eventually behind the desk. As an engineer, a smart move before working with a band is to get a copy of the proposed setlist and listen to all the songs, many times over. Obviously, if you’re mixing several bands for one day only at a festival then this isn’t practical, but if you’re doing repeat gigs then it’s really helpful to understand what the original song sounds like and what the musicians are used to hearing. You won’t necessarily try to recreate that – a monitor mix is functional as well as pleasant to listen to – but the reference point is invaluable.

There’s another sort of listening which is also vital, particularly for monitor engineers, and that’s the art of listening to what your artist is telling you. This is where we get into the realms of sound engineering as psychology!

I’ve written before about the importance of developing trust between the monitor engineer and musicians, and a great way to inspire that (after doing your pre-production homework and introducing yourself in a friendly and confident fashion) is to really listen to what they are telling you. (A wise person once said that we have two ears and one mouth for a reason!) Make eye contact, give them your full attention, and check anything you didn’t quite understand. Repeat keywords back to them, to make sure you’ve got it. This not only gives you a better shot at meeting their needs quickly but also helps them to feel heard – and believe me, that is a huge part of forming trust. Do you know those people who make you feel like you’re the only person in the room? Be one of those people!

Of course, the tricky part of monitor engineering is that you need to make every person on stage feel like that simultaneously, and if they’re all talking to you at once, that’s no mean feat! Use the ‘one at a time, but I see you’ approach – stay with the person you’re talking with, but give the interrupter a nod or say ‘I’ll be right with you John’ (or whoever). As soon as you’re free, say ‘now, John, what can I do for you?’ After a few times, they’ll generally stop jostling for position, because they come to trust that they’ll get their turn. Of course, there are often inter-band politics to deal with, and sometimes you’ll be caught in the crossfire of ego-contests. Experience teaches you how to deal with those, but if you stay calm, methodical and professional, you won’t go too far wrong.

Many artists and musicians are not good at describing what they need to hear, so you have to learn to decipher their requests, and again this comes with practice. Comments like ‘my voice feels muffled’ can often be addressed with mic technique and EQ (more about that next month), but simply being curious is the way to get clues – if you don’t understand what they’re getting at, ask open-ended questions. ‘Can you tell me more about what ‘crunchy/breathy/purple feels like?’ (Yes, people do come up with the oddest descriptions!) This has the added benefit of helping them to feel that you’re on their side and again, it builds trust. As a monitor engineer, your relationship with the band really is of prime importance – when they feel that you’ve got their back, they can relax and get on with their job of playing a great gig – and that’s what it’s all about!

Part 2 goes into detail about listening to different sounds within a mix, and how I approach EQ’ing individual inputs. In the meantime – get curious, keep listening, and have fun!

All I Ever Wanted

 When Your Passion Becomes Your Work

I was just 12 years old when the thunderbolt struck. Standing behind the FOH guy, watching him mix my favourite band, I suddenly knew what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t know at that point what monitors were – that refinement would come later – but I was going to be a sound engineer, and that was all there was to it. I had no clue how to make this auspicious event actually come about, but the spark was lit – a sound engineer I would be, and no one and nothing was going to stop me. Stand back, world, here I come!

It helped that I was (ok, am) extremely stubborn when I know what I want.

It helped that I was (and still am) passionate about music, and was hugely inspired by the behind-the-scenes video footage of my beloved rockumentaries. (I still think speeded-up time-lapse photography of arena and stadium load-ins is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.)

It helped that I was being educated by teachers who told us that we could be whatever we wanted, as long as we played to our strengths and were prepared to put in the hard yards – although admittedly they were somewhat perplexed by my epiphany. (A lawyer, an astronaut, a pilot they could understand. A sound engineer, not so much. The moral of that story is be careful what you tell a stubborn young girl because she’ll very likely take it literally!)

It’s now almost 30 years since that thunderbolt struck, and for all my adult life I’ve been a professional sound engineer. I love my job, and whilst there are most certainly a few bands that I would still give my right arm to mix, I’m incredibly fortunate to have reached the upper echelons of the industry. I did what I set out to do. I made my passion, my work.

And therein lies a thorny little issue that never even occurred to 12-year-old me. When your passion becomes your work, you can never again experience it with the wonder and innocence of the outsider. It’s a lot like moving in with your dreamy partner; you still think they’re gorgeous, and your love deepens with time, but you become aware of all their little foibles and less-than-glamorous habits, and it inevitably changes the relationship. Very often for something wonderful, and often it makes you even prouder of them when you know what their private struggles are, but it’s a paradigm shift from which there is no return.

Consequently, it’s decades since I’ve been able to go a gig without privately critiquing the sound. It’s even worse if it’s a festival, where I can compare different bands and weigh up whether it’s the tone of the PA, the mix, or what’s going into the desk, that I’m picking apart! I’m not as hyper-critical as some engineers I know – I can usually just about get over it if the sound’s simply a bit average – but I’ve witnessed at least three very big rock bands who I was excited to see, sounding absolutely shocking. I’m afraid I spoilt it for myself so much that I had to leave! Seriously, this stuff can leave me feeling disgruntled for days – I really do hate it when bands who ought to sound awesome, don’t. Of course, everyone has off-days, but when it’s persistently bad… anyway, I won’t get into that particular rant right here. (You see what I mean?!) That said, it’s an unrivaled joy when a band I’ve been waiting years to see sounds stunning – Def Leppard has sounded fabulous on a number of occasions, and Don Henley at Hyde Park made my 2016 – hats off to the noise boys and girls on those gigs!

Over the years I’ve made two other passions – yoga and writing – into my work as well (I never learn!), and it’s the same with them. I’m enormously fussy about which yoga teachers I enjoy going to these days, and even when they’re great I’ll often be taking mental notes of excellent ideas which I might echo in my own teaching. Likewise, some writing styles can drive me to distraction, no matter how interesting the content. The next time I fall in love with something, I really must try to remain an enthusiastic amateur…

But for all that turning my passion into my work has made me Ms Fussy-Pants, I wouldn’t change it. Sure, my great expectations have made the probability of disappointment higher, and it takes something truly outstanding to lose me in the music these days. But that’s because I’ve trained myself to listen intently; to analyse; to discern what makes a sound more pleasing. In doing that, I’ve got under the skin of my passion, and become intimate with something that still has the power to excite and inspire me, albeit with a little more awareness of the magic. Because of that intimacy, I get to spend my life doing something that I love; something that very rarely feels like actual work.

Just like a good marriage, even though the exciting becomes the familiar and you know what goes on behind the scenes, the pay-off is that you share your life with someone you love deeply, someone you understand – and who still has the power to occasionally take your breath away. If that happens less frequently than in the early days of romance, it’s because your life has been so enriched by your love that your bar for ‘breathtaking’ is set very high.

So I’m glad that 12-year-old me was ambitious and stubborn, and that 20-something me worked so damn hard to get to where I now find myself. Now, my passion is my work, and my work is my passion – and truly, when you do what you love, you never work another day in your life. And that, ultimately, is all I ever wanted.

The Road Less Travelled

Tips for Touring in Less Developed Countries

Touring with full production in first world countries is, let’s face it, not easy street. Like a family of hi-tech snails, you carry your home and everything you need; and beyond power and rigging points, you don’t need a whole lot from the local production/promoter. Even when you’re not carrying all your gear, picking up what you need locally in the western world is usually straightforward as long as you’ve advanced it all properly, especially in countries where we all speak the same first language.

But what happens when you start to travel further afield, to countries where the language, culture and wealth-status is very different? Touring in far-flung places is fabulous – you get to see parts of the world you might never have even considered visiting. You get to experience different cultures, meet people of all nationalities (and realise we’re all the same), taste wonderful and unusual foods, explore cities where you can’t read the roadsigns, see natural beauty and temples and monuments that you didn’t even know existed, and step far, far outside your comfort zone and grow as a person more than you knew was possible.

You’ll probably also get frustrated, feel out of your depth, and feel like you’re being stared at a lot, especially if you’re a woman working on a gig.

You know what? It’s all really good for you, both as a human and as an engineer.

My first world tour was 13 years ago, and I’ve wound up somewhere unusual every year since then. Some tours have been big enough that we’ve carried everything except racks and stacks (PA, wedges and amps), and others I’ve carried little more than a multimeter and sense of humour – both of which are VITAL! I’ve picked up plenty of tricks and tips along the way to make life easier, which I hope you’ll find useful the next time you find yourself on a long-haul flight to somewhere you never dreamed you’d find yourself!

– Speak very plainly. When you start to write your spec, remember that English is not these people’s first language – keep it simple. Lose any slang, colloquialisms and unnecessary words in specs, emails and conversation. It avoids confusion and means you’re more likely to get what you need with a minimum of fuss.

– Make plain in your specs, things that would be taken for granted back home. For example, I offer a couple of alternatives for acceptable IEM systems, then add ‘all EITHER x or y please, no mixtures’. Likewise amps and crossovers – I once walked on stage to find the wedges I had asked for, but all sounding completely different from each other. I asked my babysitter to show me the amps, which were buried under the stage, and sure enough, amongst a horrible snakepit of cable, there were several different sorts of amps and crossovers. I certainly improved my chops that day! To things like mic stands, I add the words ‘clean and in good working order. This extends to the production world too – things like toilet roll are not a given in some countries. Assume nothing and put it all on the rider!

– When advancing, don’t take a reply of ‘yes, everything is fine as confirmation that everything is indeed fine. Many cultures around the world are very concerned with ‘losing face’, and want to be seen as stepping up to the mark in their dealings with you. Unfortunately, this often means that they will agree to everything on paper, and wait till you’re on-site to tell you that this bit of kit was broken or that piece of gear is not available in their country. Ask them to list exactly what they have. You might be lucky and you might not, but better to know and have the conversation about substitutes and contingencies now, than when it’s 10 hours till showtime.

On a side note to this, always communicate respectfully, both because you’re a nice human, and because the ‘face’ thing can’t be overstated – if you make certain cultures feel disrespected, you’ll make life very hard for yourself indeed.

– Invest in a good quality multi-meter if you don’t have one already, and take it everywhere. It’s good practice to meter the power before you plug in wherever you are, but it can quite literally be life or death in less developed countries. I’ve come across readings that could have killed someone had I blithely carried on without noticing. Local gear will often already be rigged and powered up – find an outlet and meter it anyway. If it’s not what it should be, don’t go any further till you get it sorted.

– Make friends with the interpreter! If you’re very lucky you might have a member of the audio crew who speaks good English or a technical translator, but the likelihood is you’ll have a dedicated interpreter who doesn’t have any technical knowledge. Nonetheless, they are going to be a big help, so learn their name and keep technical questions that need translating as simple as possible.

– Have a stash of wipes and a paintbrush for cleaning your gear and the desk. In a lot of places, you’ll be faced with gear that hasn’t been well-maintained and sometimes is downright filthy – and there are few things grosser than a stinky vocal mic!

– The food in some countries is fantastic, but that doesn’t mean all crew catering will be great. Some days it will rock your world, others days it really won’t. Having a supply of nuts or muesli bars is a good idea for those days. Likewise, it’s smart to carry a kit of basic medicines for common ailments – something I’ve done ever since trying to explain a UTI via sign language to a pharmacist in Russia!

– Be sensitive to where you are. In very poor countries, the local crew might not be earning 1/100th of what you are each day – I’m not kidding. Understand that they don’t have the same experience or opportunities as you; be kind, patient and if they seem interested in what you’re doing, take the opportunity to share some of what you know. There are often keen members of the local audio company who are eager to learn from you, and if you can teach them something that helps them, however simple, they’ll never forget you.

– There aren’t many women doing what we do in a lot of the world, and staring is not considered rude in many cultures. This adds up to the fact that, as a lady roadie, people are going to be curious about you and you’re going to get looked at. 99% of the time it’s completely innocent and they’ve just never seen a woman do what you’re doing, so try to ignore it. (It goes without saying that if it gets creepy, you don’t stand for it – trust your instincts.) There’s also less concept of personal space in some countries, and having people close behind me when I’m trying to mix the show is a personal pet hate of mine. I deal with it by either creating a physical barrier, such as a cable trunk behind me as a ‘table’; or if that doesn’t get the message through, I’ll smile and say, ‘I’m sorry, could you give me some more space please?’ Again, the culprits are usually just trying to learn what you’re doing – I’ve known people take photos of channel EQs!

– Pack your sense of humour. On one memorable stadium show, the stage was deemed unsafe by our production manager and we all had to walk away whilst it was put right. An hour later we returned to find a large dead chicken, several garlands of flowers, and a lot of incense centre stage – and for once the incense wasn’t mine. When we asked the locals what was going on, they cheerfully explained that they had made an offering to the gods responsible, and the stage would now be fine. Needless to say, we went back to the dressing rooms for a little while longer!

Touring further afield is exciting, daunting, and a wonderful experience. It’s a privilege that most people can only dream of – to travel the world with a bunch of buddies and get paid for it. Some days amazing things will happen, some days things will go horribly wrong. But you’ll truly live life to the full – and if you ask me, that’s what this whole rock and roll business is all about!

 

Ready to Rock? A Beginner’s Guide to Life on the Road

So you’re heading off on your first tour – congratulations! It’s an exciting time and you’ll never be this new again, so enjoy it! You’re going to learn a lot on the technical front, but it’s also a lifestyle, and there are certain ‘soft-skills’ and behaviours which make life a lot more comfortable – so from someone with a couple of touring decades under her belt, here’s some non-technical advice for life on the road.

– Rule number 1: no pooping on the bus! You’ll get a heavy clean-up penalty, or at the very least, serious bad vibes from the bus driver (who’s responsible for cleaning the toilet) for the rest of the tour. So no solids down there – we put tissue paper in the bin to avoid blockages.

– Whilst we’re on the subject of toilets… bus slippers or flip-flops are a REALLY good idea. You’re likely sharing this moving bus with a lot of guys, which can be an unhappy barefoot experience… not everyone’s aim is true!

– Tidy up after yourself on the bus and in catering. Clear your cups and plates away and leave the place as you’d wish to find it.

– Dress appropriately, both at the gig and on the bus. That doesn’t mean you have to dress like a guy, you can absolutely retain your femininity – I wear light make-up at work, and I love getting a bit dressed up on a day off. But low-cut tops and revealing nightwear won’t help you to be taken seriously, so be mindful of what’s on show.

– Be cautious around tour romances, especially in the early years of your career. As one of the few women on the road, you’ll probably attract a degree of interest, and you might meet someone who sparks your interest in return. But you don’t want to discover, a few tours in, that you’ve been more-than-friends with a bunch of your touring colleagues – live production is a small world. I’m not saying you should disregard the idea of another crew member as your partner – hey, I met my husband on the road. Just tread carefully and respect yourself – if you treat yourself with respect, others will follow suit.

– On the subject of self-respect, go easy on the post-gig temptations of drink and drugs. By all means, be social and have a few beers if you enjoy it, but remember that you have a responsibility to be fully capable of doing your job the next day, and it won’t go unnoticed if you repeatedly show up late or hungover. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that the same rules apply to you as a brand-new audio tech, as to the guitar tech who’s been with the band for 30 years.

– When you mess up (yes, you will), hold your hands up – nobody likes the person whose fault it never is. Own up, apologise, correct it and move on.

– We all have days when we’re feeling a bit jaded. Sometimes there are legitimate problems to discuss, and we all have a little moan sometimes – I’m just as guilty as the next person. But moaning can be very insidious on tour and it really brings the vibe down, so check yourself. A lot of people would give their right arm to do what we do, so if we can’t be positive then let’s at least be quiet!

– Get enough people to lift heavy cases: there are no prizes for slipped discs, and you don’t prove anything by hurting yourself. Learning to direct local crew is one of the skills you’ll acquire over time, but being confident, clear and polite in your instructions is a great place to start, as is asking names and shaking hands.

– Get used to the fact that there are lots of daily jobs that aren’t that much fun but are 100% necessary, and as a new member of the audio crew, they’ll probably fall to you. Just smile and get on with it – the more experienced members of the crew have all had their time doing the exact same thing, and if you bring the right attitude to work, someday you’ll be one of them. What’s more, it cements you as a team player, and for a woman, it has the added value of showing that you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty.

– Life on the road is tough, great fun and hugely rewarding. Glamorous it ain’t! It takes time to work your way up, but the journey can be really exciting, with many great perks and happy times. So be friendly, professional, reliable and above all – ENJOY it!

Defence Against The Dark Arts – A Monitor Engineer’s Guide to RF

In my last couple of posts, I talked about the process of getting ready for a new monitor gig, from getting the call, right up to dialing the band’s mixes in. I touched briefly on RF, but it’s a big topic, and one that merits its own post, especially in a monitoring context. In this post, we’ll look at the basic principles which will give you a good foundation for a clean radio platform. As RF is a complex subject, it’s beyond the scope of this article to go into great detail, so I’ll also offer a few links that will give you more in-depth information about the science behind it all – and it is science, as much as you’ll hear it referred to as a dark art! I advise reading up on it as much as you can within an audio context, but there’s no need to get caught up in the math beyond a basic understanding unless it interests you and you plan to specialise. I also recommend attending the training days that are sometimes offered by major manufacturers like Sennheiser and Shure, as they give you a great chance to ask questions face to face. But for the basics that will serve you well, here we are – a monitor engineer’s guide to RF.

Firstly, make sure you have the right tools for the job.

Just because a transmitter and receiver from different manufacturers are in the same frequency range, it doesn’t mean they’re compatible. Compansion (compression > expansion) is the process by which a signal is compressed before transmission, and then re-expanded in the receiver. It’s important for the compansion circuitry in a system to be compatible with its ‘other half’, for optimum performance and signal-to-noise ratio, so make sure your transmitters and receivers are designed to be used together.

Choose the right antennae.

That usually means directional paddles over twigs for radio mics, and if they’re active, have them set on the lower gain. (Higher gain means they pick up over a greater area, but they pick everything up, not just the frequencies you want, and 3dB is ample for most stage applications.) A helical or ‘bubble’ antenna for IEMs offers superior reception to a paddle, but be aware of the polar coverage – typically a 40 degree cone-shape, so keep that in mind when you position it.

Minimise connections.

Every connector in the path of an antenna cable results in some RF signal loss, so avoid extending RF cables and using excessive adaptors and panels.

Maintain direct line-of-sight between transmitters and receivers.

An antenna that’s tucked around a corner and can’t ‘see’ the stage won’t do its job well, and keeping an artist’s IEM pack antenna on the outside of their clothing is good practice where possible. You may have to negotiate with the wardrobe department if you’re doing a costume-heavy show, but it’s very normal for wardrobe to make a little fabric pouch for the pack to sit in.

Use the right cables.

It’s easy to mistake a BNC cable that’s intended for the back of a desk (ie MADI) for an RF cable, as they have the same connectors – but they have different impedance and you need to keep them separate. RF uses a 50-ohm cable, digital data uses 75 ohms. It’s also worth using a specific low-loss cable such as RG-213 with N-type connectors for IEMs – they are thicker than standard cables and BNC connectors and lose a smaller amount of RF signal – especially useful in circumstances where you have no choice but to run longer cables.

Keep those cables short.

An RF signal would always rather travel through air than cable, so keep cable lengths to a functional minimum – never use a 10 metre cable if a 5 metre will reach. If you need more than 10 metres, reassess the positioning of your racks to see if you can get them closer.

Get high.

Height is your friend when it comes to antenna placement, so take stands up to their fullest extension. Diversity receiver paddles for radio mics can be close to each other – a minimum of 1/2 wavelength is good practice – the wavelength for a 700mHz signal is around 40cm, so a T-bar on a single stand is fine. Keep some distance between receiver paddles and your IEM transmitter antenna though – I usually put my IEM antenna nice and high near the downstage edge of my desk, and the receiver paddles at the upstage side.

Set your squelch.

Squelch is a muting mechanism that silences the audio output of your receiver should an erroneous signal cut across it. This is a good thing – that signal can be a lot louder than the desired one (ie your IEM mix) and can give the listener a nasty blast of noise. We want to set the squelch low enough to allow our desired signal through, but high enough to keep out the uninvited. Around 7-11 dB is a good all-rounder – if you set it too high, the desired signal will also be muted more easily when your artist moves further away (because of signal loss).

It’s not enough to simply have clear spectrum

(ie nothing else transmitting) around your frequencies. Not all frequencies play nicely together, and they can intermodulate – a phenomenon whereby they interfere with each other, even though they may not be close by in range. Most manufacturer’s equipment will therefore have preset ‘groups’ of frequencies that are compatible, and there are also charts available, as well as software that can calculate compatible frequencies for you. When everything is set up and tuned, you can check for intermodulation by switching every transmitter and receiver on, then switching one transmitter off at a time, checking to see that the associated receiver has lost all RF signal, and then switching it back on to repeat the process with each transmitter/receiver pair. A little tip here – make sure that your radio mics are not all sitting in a pile – the proximity will make them intermodulate no matter how compatible the frequencies, so spread them out on a work surface with their antenna ends pointing away from each other.

Be aware of the effect that LED screens have on RF

they transmit low-level interference, so you may need to play around with optimum antenna placement. If it’s just a single backdrop screen it shouldn’t be too bad, but if you have an entire stage made from an LED screen, as on one tour I did, you may need to enlist the help of an RF expert who can fix you up with a high-powered booster for your transmission.

Be aware that RF hates metal.

(Not the music, it’s quite a fan of many hard-rock bands I believe…) No, RF hates to touch metal hardware, so keep packs off metal belts or costume parts, and make sure antennas aren’t resting on metal walls or truss. It’s all to do with an interesting phenomenon called the Faraday effect.

Get the right tools 

I highly recommend investing in a hand-held scanner if you tour and use RF regularly. Some places you will switch your receivers on to see a hot mess of RF coming from who-knows-where (TV stations and cellphones have a lot to do with it!), and it saves you a whole heap of trouble to get a visual of what’s going on in the spectrum rather than flying blind. Then you can look for the ‘quiet’ gaps, and plan your frequencies accordingly.

Finally, use your ears!

RF is a science, but the end-user – your artist – is a piece of biology! Test out their experience before you hand them their RF equipment – walk the performance space with their pack (not a PFL pack on engineer mode – that won’t tell you if there’s anything wrong with their hardware) and talk to yourself in their mic the whole time – that way you’ll experience any problems for yourself and have time to fix them before they walk on stage, so they have a happy, peaceful RF time up there. And we know what happy artists make, right? Happy monitor engineers!

Good Foundations Part Two

Last month we looked at preparing for a monitor gig – all the planning that happens long before we make noise. This month we’ll look at how to run the initial soundcheck and dial the band’s mixes up in an efficient and stress-free style! Good Foundations Part One.

You may have heard the old adage about monitors being 50% technology, 50% psychology. Well, there’s a lot of truth in that, although I’d probably go with thirds each of technology, psychology and good organisation!

So let’s say we’re now in the rehearsal studio or setting up for soundcheck. Everything is neatly labeled and patched in – organisation – and it’s time to get busy with the technology.

My first task is always the RF, and the first part I address is the setting on each unit. I make sure all the sensitivities, hi-pass filters, volume boosts, limiters etc are set to where I want them, then I turn to the RF itself (I highly recommend getting a hand-held scanner). I make sure the frequencies are both clean (no outside interference) and intermodulation-free (not interfering with each other). Once tuned to the chosen frequencies, the easiest way to check this is to have all the transmitters switched on (including mics and guitar packs), then switch off one transmitter at a time and see if the relevant receiver goes ‘quiet’ (displays no RF). If that’s the case, happy days; if not then there’s work to do, which I’ll address in greater detail next month.

When that’s all clear, I send pink noise to each IEM in turn and listen to the packs – left then right so I know they’re patched correctly. I walk the performance space and listen to each pack, to check that there are no drop-outs. Then I follow the same pink noise process with any hardwired packs on stage (again, check any filter switches are where you want them), and then the wedges, including my PFL.

Now I know that my outputs are good, I turn to the vocals. I set the gains, then dial them into the relevant IEM packs along with a touch of reverb.

Then it’s time to EQ the wedges. Using the main vocal mic, I first reduce any frequencies that just don’t sound good; then I see how far I can push my send before feedback, and pull out anything troublesome on the output EQ. I copy that EQ to all the wedges as my baseline. For the wedges with a vocal mic in front of them, I like to have a good 6dB of spare headroom on my send so that I have someplace to go, and I’ll often make that change on the mic input EQ.

If you have a singer who uses both IEMs and wedges (I don’t encourage it, but sometimes people are set in their ways), then it’s a great idea to split the vocal mic across 2 channels – one for the IEM, one for the wedges – so you can have different EQs.

The final stage of tech-checks is the inputs – it’s time to get the backline techs and FOH engineer involved for a line check. Good communication speeds this up – make sure you and FOH can hear each other, and if you’re in a big space then put both your shout mics through the wedges, or give the techs an IEM pack each so they can hear you too.

Finally, you’re ready for the band – and the psychology! A common mistake amongst new engineers is to have the band all pile in and play at once. This is a bad move because you won’t have time to set your gains and dial mixes in before they all start telling you what they can’t hear! One at a time is the golden rule. Have the drummer hit each drum individually – around 30 secs per drum should be sufficient to gain it and set a rough EQ – you can fine-tune later. When you’re fairly happy with each drum, bring that up in the drummer’s mix and move on to the next. Then have them play sometime, so they can tell you what they need more or less of.

Next up is bass. Set the gain and then have bass and drums play together. When the rhythm section is happy, I dial a rough drum and bass mix, minus overheads, into the other IEM packs (but I don’t do this if the band are on wedges, because they’ll get a lot of what they need acoustically).

Then I have guitars, keys, and any remaining musicians play one at a time, set each gain and bring them up in their own mix. Now they can each hear themself and the rhythm section.

Next, I ask them all to play together (no hard drive tracks at this stage, just a jam) and dial whatever else they need to hear for their ‘starting point’ mixes.

I then add hard drives if they’re being used, and finally, I hear the vocals.

It’s time to run a song and see how it’s all sitting. You’ll still need to tweak as you go along, but this process gets you to a really good place with the minimum of fuss.

Newer bands, in particular, will sometimes do two things which you, as the monitor engineer, should take charge of. Firstly, they often get excited and all want to play at once when they get behind their instruments. Make sure they can hear you, explain that you’ll build their mixes methodically and ask them to play one at a time. Secondly, they’ll start apologising every time they ask for a change (although this may be because I’m English and we apologise for everything!) You need to offer reassurance that you are there for them, so they can ask for what they need without worrying about it.

There are different ways of working, and you’ll develop your own over time, but this is a process that has never let me down. It leads to a happy band. And a happy band equals a happy monitor engineer!

After all, our purpose is to give the band the best audio environment possible, so they can get on with their job – giving the audience a truly kick-ass performance!

Good Foundations – Part One

As a new monitor engineer, it can feel intimidating when the band turns up in front of you for the first time. Here’s a bunch of people who probably all know each other, who might be considerably older than you, and who all seem super-chilled and confident. And here’s you, about to play a major part in how they experience their gig, probably not knowing any of them and maybe feeling a little nervous. I’ve worked with a lot of different musicians in my 20+ years in the business, and in that time I’ve refined an ‘order of proceedings’ that has never let me down. Like so many things in live production, it mostly boils down to preparation, common sense and being methodical, and I’d like to share it with you in this two-part post.

This month we’ll look at the foundations you need to lay BEFORE you set eyes on your musos, and next month I’ll talk about how to proceed once you’re all in a room together and it’s time to make some noise. If you’re new to live work this should give you a good guide to getting started – and if you’ve been around the block a few times, I hope you’ll still find something of use here!

Step 1 – Get in Touch

So you’ve got a new gig – congratulations! Whilst it might be weeks or even months away, the work begins now – you need to get in touch with the people who can tell you the details. Depending on the scale of the show, that’s either the production manager, tour manager, PA company project manager, musical director or a member of the band. Good things to ask at this stage are the ‘W-H’ questions – who, what, where, when, how.

– Where do you need to be and when?

– Do you get to spec what gear you’d like, or are you using in-house?

– Where’s the gear coming from?

– How much prep / programming time is there, if any?

– How many people are in the band?

– What inputs are there?

– Do the band want in-ears, wedges, or a combination?

– Who’s mixing front of house?

And so on. Talking to the FOH engineer is a great idea at this stage – if they’re already working with the band, you can get most of the information you need about the stage set-up from them. If they’re new too, you can put your heads together and figure it out as a team. You need to think about what gear you want to use, and having one or two alternatives is a good idea – for example, I’ll always prefer a Digico, but a Yamaha PM5D is my second choice because you can get them anywhere in the world and they’re pretty much bomb-proof. And whilst I’d LIKE an SD7, I have to be sensible about budgets for artists with less money to spend – will an SD8, 9 or 10 do the job instead? For mics, I have my preferences but I’ll usually defer to the FOH engineer unless I feel strongly about something, because they have to cope with a far less controlled environment than I do.

Step 2 – Collate your info

When you have answers to your questions, start to get your paperwork together. It’s the dullest part of any gig, but being professional means being organised, and I promise you’ll thank yourself for it later! So make an input/output list if one doesn’t already exist, likewise a stage plot and spec (especially if you’re going places where you’re using local equipment) – Word and Excel are your friends. If you’re not sure what that all looks like, here are some examples: 

Example AUDIO RIDER – July 2016

Soundgirls example patch 2016

Soundgirls Stage plot example 2016

Be very clear and use the simplest, least ‘wordy’ language you can, especially if you’re going overseas. Think about little things like batteries – how many do you need per show? What about console software versions, which version will you be running? Don’t be shy about spec’ing things that might seem obvious, like comms and shout systems – the best gig in the world will fall over if you can’t communicate, and assumption is the mother of all f*** ups!

If there’s not much prep time, it’s a good idea to make yourself a template session file for your desk using the relevant offline editing software. Even if you just label and patch your inputs and outputs, punch in high pass filters, and set up some basic reverbs, it’s all-time saved on the day.

Step 3 – Share your info

Send your paperwork to the relevant people – FOH engineers, supply companies, production managers, house engineers (if you’re doing festivals for example). You need to know if there’s anything that can’t be supplied, any problems – it’s better to know now than find out later. Send that session file to the supply company or house engineer so they can load it up and linecheck the system. Print out a couple of copies of all the paperwork and have your session on a USB key. Get your toolkit together – if I’m doing a fly-gig where I can’t have my whole kit, I take a mini-kit with things I know I’ll need – black and white electrical tape, Sharpies, scissors, a Leatherman, RF scanner, multimeter, my in-ears, wipes and so on. If you’re prepping your gear, label everything to within an inch of its life – the simpler you can make things to set up, the quicker it will be – and labelling is priceless when things go wrong and you need to fault-find in a hurry.

Once you’ve done all that, you’re in good shape to load in and make some noise! Next month I’ll talk you through how I run things for soundchecking and getting the band’s mixes dialled in. Happy gigging!

Woman Up

“Woman Up” is a guest blog from Becky Pell, freelance sound engineer, yoga teacher and writer. This post originally appeared on RocknRoll Yogi.

It’s an inescapable fact that the music business is a male-dominated industry. Lately, I’ve noticed a springing-up of more discussion groups and surveys focusing on the roles of women in touring, and why there aren’t more of us. As you’d expect, I get asked about it a lot.

There are some brilliant organisations, like Soundgirls, who support the ambitions of budding young female sound engineers. I really like their proactive approach of inspiring the younger generation and sharing knowledge – knowledge which is valuable irrespective of gender. Soundboys would do well to check out the articles on the Soundgirls website for practical know-how!

But some comments I’ve read on Facebook (in response to very sensible questions about how, for example, other women have handled a situation) worry me. It’s great that there’s somewhere we can discuss the stuff that concerns us. But I see some women getting hugely up in arms about the attitudes of some guys, and wasting time dissecting their behaviour/comments/ignorance; time which, to my mind would be better spent just proving them wrong!

I absolutely identify as a feminist and a strident one at that. But…. I don’t know if continually highlighting the thing that makes us different is helpful. Your life consists of what you pay attention to, after all. If you’re determined to be offended and outraged, you won’t have to look too hard for material.

But equally, if you’re looking for opportunities to educate the old, mostly male, guard; to inspire and surprise and change attitudes….. Here’s your chance!

I’m hugely supportive of younger women trying to break into a tough but brilliant career. I’m hugely supportive of younger men trying to do that too.

The advice I would give to a young woman wanting to do my job is 99.9% the same as that I’d give to a young man, and I think that the more we draw attention to the fact that *drum roll* THERE’S A WOMAN ON THE TECH CREW!!!!, the further away we push ourselves from our intention of acceptance.

What creates happy, peaceful communities? Integration.

And what causes wars? Segregation. ‘We’re different.’ It’s obviously an extreme example, but I hope you see my point.

There will be people – ok, guys – who want to make a drama out of you being a woman and belittle you, and who feel threatened because the world is changing. But trust me, if someone is being a jerk, it’s not because of your vagina. It’s because they’re a jerk. Or having a bad day. Or whatever. You know what you do? You deal with it and you move on. Dismiss it. Don’t give it more energy than it deserves. That’s how we change attitudes – by not letting the jerks win.

Women in a lot of places in the world have a seriously raw deal. But that’s not what we’re talking about here. We’re talking about emancipated, educated western women with choices. With personal power.

The behind-scenes music business is tough, irrespective of gender. Only the deeply committed get anywhere. It’s long hours and hard work and rejection and uncertainty and insecurity. It’s also a great many brilliant and exciting things that make all of that worthwhile. If you’re the kind of woman who gets offended by swearing; who expects special treatment; who doesn’t want to get her hands, either literally or figuratively, dirty; it isn’t for you.

But if you’re a woman who has a thicker skin than that; if you can brazen out any stupid comments and learn how to come back with a witty retort; if you’re willing to get amongst it; the music industry needs YOU!

We need you because when the people who got here first – the boys – see that having girls in the playground isn’t a problem, guess what happens? It isn’t a problem! But like all ground-breakers, it’s up to us to educate them. Is that fair? No, probably not. But are you going to sit around complaining about life not being fair? Or are you going to change things with your actions?

(Or, as an ancient proverb has it – will you be the person who wants to wrap the world in soft leather to make it comfortable to walk on? Or will you put on your shoes?)

The best advice I can give a budding young lady roadie is to just GO FOR IT. Dream big. Don’t give your gender another thought, because a guy certainly wouldn’t, and you are every single bit as capable and worthy.

Are we seriously going to let what we’ve got in our pants be a defining factor in whether we pursue our ambitions and live our dreams? Come on girls. Get real.

Woman up.

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