STEVE LEVINE: Digital Domain

Producer Steve Levine has taken advantage of the tumbling price of quality recording equipment to assemble a complete digital studio in a tiny room at his home. Paul Tingen enters the digital domain...

The Guinness Book of Records invents some curious categories, like airplane eating or pole sitting, so that they can cram as many names as possible into their fact‑packed pages. A category like 'greatest sales per square foot of selling space' may not quicken the imagination quite as much, but it got the excellent hi‑fi chain Richer Sounds a mention for their achievements at their London Bridge branch. By these standards, the British producer/engineer Steve Levine is a prime candidate for entry in Guinness too. All the makers of the book have to do is invent a similar category, perhaps 'professional recording studio with the greatest amount of gear per square foot', and it would almost certainly mean a spectacular number one entry for Levine's studio. For in a back room of his residence somewhere in West London he has managed to cram a top‑level 32‑track digital studio in a space that's about the size of a luxury toilet. Its exact dimensions are 10 feet by 6 feet 10 inches, and somewhere between four ADATs, a Yamaha 02R digital mixer, and racks and racks of outboard gear and sound sources, he's even managed to find space for human presence, with a bit of clear floor space and two swivel chairs.

My fundamental aim is to help an artist achieve his or her best.

Sitting in one of these chairs in this tiny space, with gear towering above one's head in all directions, is a slightly unnerving experience — yet it feels cosy rather than cramped. Steve Levine sits about two feet from me — he can't really move any further away — and the combination of a youthful, boyish face and grey curly hair give his appearance a curiously timeless quality. Levine (38, as it turns out) talks fast and has strong and well‑argued opinions about many things, with a special affection for what he appropriately calls his "studio in a box. I can do almost everything here: pre‑production, overdubs of vocals, acoustic guitars, percussion and so on, editing, pre‑mastering, and since I got the Yamaha 02R, also mixing. Years ago I had a private digital 24‑track studio in London, but because the equipment was so much bigger, I needed much more space and had to house it in an industrial unit. I've long wanted to do everything at home in as compact a place as this, and it's only really been possible since this year, when the 02R came on the market."

Levine continues, explaining that most of the acts he currently works with are up and coming, and that working in his small but perfectly equipped studio saves them a lot of money, and gets both sonically and artistically top‑level results, because the artists feel they can relax in the welcoming surroundings of Levine's home. "Initially I thought I'd just do pre‑production work in here on the computer and hard disk, but then we tried recording some vocals and got better results than in a commercial studio. The artists really liked it here. So I now have this booth that I can set up in the adjacent room, and it becomes the perfect recording room. It's the size of about two phone boxes, and whilst we have no eye contact, it's possible to record pretty much anything in there, with the exception of a full drum kit. And equipment hasn't only become much smaller, it's also become very portable. Everything in here is fitted in flightcases with wheels. I can dismantle things in seconds, fit them in my car, and set up somewhere else in two hours. I often do this when I want to record drums or a whole band. After doing pre‑production here, I go to a cheap studio with a good‑sounding room, record things on my own equipment, and come back here to edit, overdub and mix."

Dirty Hands

The above illustrates the basics of the Levine Method of Recording and Producing, with central themes such as the versatility and high quality of modern equipment, the idea that small and cheap are beautiful and not necessarily of lesser quality, and his fondness for working with young artists. The seeds for Steve Levine's (not to be confused with colleagues Ian Levine or Stewart Levine, who are no relation) 'method' were clearly sown during his early days at CBS studios in the mid‑'70s, when he started as tea boy and gradually made his way upwards via the then‑stereotypical route of tape‑op, assistant engineer, engineer and eventually producer. He quickly got himself noted: it was as early as 1976 that The Beach Boys' Bruce Johnson spotted Levine and told him that he'd make a good producer. Johnson's statement proved prophetic, for 20 years later Levine is one of the most successful UK producers around, with credits such as Culture Club, The Beach Boys and Gary Moore, and with a special talent for "bringing out the seed that is there" in unknown artists.

Levine's talent for working with up‑and‑coming bands can be traced to formative events that clearly made a big impression on him: "CBS had a great policy, which I wish would still be practiced today. Studio 3 was their junk room, containing all the shit gear that was left over from the other studios, and when they had just signed or wanted to try out a new band, they gave them two days of free recording time in Studio 3 with a junior engineer. That was a fantastic thing. It gave bands experience in working in a studio, and engineers could learn a lot and feel at ease, because it wasn't that important if you made a mistake. The band members were usually the same age as you and didn't worry about you being a junior engineer. It gave me tremendous experience in working with young artists, and it's a real problem that studios don't do this kind of thing any more, and that the studio industry in general doesn't give opportunities for people to get their hands dirty in a studio and really learn the ropes."

Digital has made my job much easier and much more cost‑effective.

So worried is Levine about this problem that he is working with RePro (see box) on finding rememedies for a situation where most people learn to engineer in the isolation of their own home, leading to "the sound quality of finished records going down" and "people asking me very fundamental questions at workshops I do." His apprenticeship at CBS, he says, "was a hugely successful background. I was the last generation that really went through that process, from tea boy to engineer, to producer. Every day that I work now, I draw on that wealth of experience. I worked on every single type of music, rock, jazz, classical. Sometimes I had to set up the studio for 9 o'clock in the morning, and then we did a jingle in one hour flat, recorded, mixed, and out, everything done. That kind of regime is very, very good for you."

Fundamental

Levine's hugely succesful background and his talent for bringing out the seed in a new artist manifested themselves very quickly in his work with Culture Club in the early '80s. After having completed his apprenticeship at CBS, he started work as a freelance producer‑engineer. He soon found himself working with a then‑unknown band called Culture Club, and fell headlong into staggering success, with his productions of million‑selling singles like 'Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?' and 'Karma Chameleon' and three best‑selling albums, Kissing To be Clever (1982), Colour By Numbers (1983) and Waking Up With The House On Fire (1984). Levine remembers: "Drummer Jon Moss wanted to have the effect of a dual rhythm, and so we got my LinnDrum to play the backbeat of the tracks and he played over that. That was the beginning of the sound of Culture Club, even though 'Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?' was done with a CR78 drum machine, rather than the Linn."

The O2R is one of the best things I ever bought, and I can't describe how happy I am with it.

Culture Club made Levine's reputation as a hit producer, and he soon found himself working with a wide variety of artists, ranging from The Beach Boys, Ziggy Marley, Deniece Williams, Gary Moore and China Crisis to America. But he never strayed too far from the core talents that brought him so much success with Culture Club: getting the best out of young artists, having an ear for high‑quality, chart‑friendly pop music, and also getting an excellent vocal sound (see 'Recording Vocals' box). Levine: "I suppose I do pop music best, but that covers such a wide range. The more diverse the things I do, the better I like it. I don't want to be known for just one thing. But everything I do is held together with a common thread, and that common thread is that I really know my onions when it comes to making a record. I really know how to get the best out of an artist. I can find the thing that needs to be brought out. And I don't take over, or play everything myself. I don't believe in that. I program things to save people hassle, because I'm a good programmer, but my job is to help people, not to be them. My fundamental aim is to help an artist achieve his or her best."

By the end of the '80s, Levine had shifted part of his focus to composing music for film and television. Amongst other projects, he scored movies such as Mr Frost (with Jeff Goldblum and Alan Bates) and Eversmile New Jersey (with Daniel Day Lewis), and composed the music for 20 episodes of the US TV series She Wolf Of London. Filming and production initially took place in the UK, but when it was moved to California halfway through the year‑long project, Levine followed, in early 1991. He ended up living there for three years, and came back in late 1993, weary of riots, earthquakes, floods and the other surprises that sunny California had apparently delivered him and his family. On coming back to the UK, Levine found that it was very much a matter of "starting again." Unsurprisingly, with a track record like his, this hardly meant twiddling thumbs and chasing work. Instead, he opted to build once more on the original inspiration of CBS Studio 3. When I spoke to Levine early this autumn, he was working with (or had just worked with), over half a dozen up and coming artists and bands, including Eddie Lloyd, Akira, Darling! and The Emotionals. The only well‑known exception was a 'pop' album with The King Singers.

Phenomenal

Levine thus now generally works on projects with smaller budgets, and his small but top‑quality home studio is the ideal tool. Perhaps it's time to examine the gear that's packed into Levine's tiny room. Levine: "I've built this selection of equipment up over many years. I've refined it to exactly what I want. My synth collection had grown to enormous proportions at one stage and has now shrunk back to the things I decided I really need. Technology moving on helps: I used to have three Akai S‑series samplers, and now just one Emu EIV with 128Mb of RAM and a 1Gig Jaz drive does the same job. The Emu is a brilliant machine with great filters. Many people don't program or process their sounds any more these days, through inexperience or laziness. It does take some patience, but I think it's very satisfying when you make a great, new, fresh, sound. The other day I created a pad sound that sounded vaguely like an evolving Wavestation patch, a looped and filtered 15‑second sample of a river and a nondescript breathy flute‑like sound from an old CD‑ROM. It was a fantastic surreal pad sound. So it does pay to experiment." Levine is known for having a large sample library, and he's even made some sample CDs.

The master keyboard in use in Levine's studio is a Yamaha KX88, and other sound sources include Roland U220 and D550 synth mdoules, Roland R8M drum module, Ensoniq ESQ1M synth module, Korg Wavestation AD and Yamaha TX802 synths. Right next to them is an Atari Mega 4 with hard drive. Levine: "In all honesty, I can do everything on the Atari that my Mac with Notator Logic software upstairs can do. I have the Atari in my studio because the majority of people I'm working with use an Atari, and it's absolutely fine for sequencing and synth editing. Unless you want to do hard disk recording there's no point in getting rid of your Atari. My hard disk recorder and editor is still the Akai DD1000, because of the instantly‑removable cartridges. I record all my audio onto my ADATs and then use the DD1000 for editing real drums or guitars and cleaning up things, or making vocal comps."

Unless you want to do hard disk recording there's no point in getting rid of your Atari.

The two centrepieces of Levine's studio are the Yamaha 02R digital desk and his four ADAT machines with BRC (Big Remote Control). The small size of the desk is in itself a breakthrough, for it means that he can have a top‑quality desk in his tiny room to mix on. Before the Yamaha, Levine had a Mackie 3204 desk, which was only used for monitoring, but not for recording, let alone mixing. Levine says about the Yamaha: "It's fantastic. I don't mind the 'page' system, because in practical terms you only use very few. Having a meter bridge does help, though — it means that you can look at two things at the same time. This desk is one of the best things I ever bought, and I can't describe how happy I am with it. It may not be perfect, but for the money it's amazing. You're looking at a man who once spent £220,000 on two Sony 3324 24‑tracks, plus £28,000 on a DDA desk with £20,000 Optifile automation. All great gear, but the Yamaha costs only £10,000 fully loaded, it sounds great, and I can do top‑quality mixes with it. It's connected to my ADATs with fibre‑optic cables, which results in a phenomenal S/N ratio."

Solution

And so onto the ADAT machines. Levine is aware of the recent discussions, with some people saying that ADAT is not an entirely reliable format (see, for example, the interiew with David Lord in SOS November 1996), but he reckons that they're as reliable as any other professional format, "as long as you service them properly. I have them routinely serviced before and after every project, and given a full tweak every 500 hours. Looked after like that, they haven't given me any more trouble than my Sony 3324 did. So whilst they're not trouble‑free, in the real world they're a lot less trouble than hard disk computer recorders, which seem to crash all the time. I still have the original ADAT machines, because my whole system is digital, so I don't use the A/D or D/A converters. Also, the use of the meter bridge on the remote is essential for me, and I don't necessarily need an increase in rewind speed. Another thing that's great about the ADAT is that I can send my tapes all over the world, for other people to work on, because so many people have one now. And the BRC provides me with a reliable time code and word clock master."

Levine is aware of the recent resurgence of valve and analogue equipment, with people arguing that the digital sampling rate and word length are too low, that digital's frequence response is too limited, and that it just sounds plain bad. Levine has his own view: "I agree with all that these people say. It would be great to have a 24‑bit, 400KHz sampling‑rate digital medium, but it wouldn't be practical with current technology; plus, in the real world, analogue will hardly ever manage to perform what it is theoretically capable of in laboratory conditions. Most analogue 24‑tracks in the world are over 10 years old, and most of them will be well‑worn and have worn heads. People travel from studio to studio with their tapes, and these different machines are often not quite compatible. Then there's the problem of tape wear when you use a tape over and over again, and when you bounce on analogue, you play from the sync head, and it sounds crap anyway. The point is that whilst analogue is, in theory, capable of delivering better sound performance than digital, in the real world it hardly ever does. In a normal working environment, digital wins hands down. There are no lining up problems, and even if it plays back with severe error correction, it will still sound better than a badly lined‑up analogue recorder.

"My solution is to have top‑class, well‑serviced digital equipment, have a complete digital signal path, so no converters are used unnecessarily, and to have a top‑class analogue front end. If you start with a shitty mic and a shitty mic preamp, and put things through a lousy A/D converter, and record all that at too low a level, that's when people hear things that are not pleasant. I have some of the best microphones that money can buy — Neumann, Sanken, B&K, Schoeps, Shure — plus an extensive collection of mic preamps, including Focusrite, GML, and TLA. I either use the A/D convertors of the Yamaha 02R, which are excellent, or my Apogee converters. My analogy is that using a good analogue front end is a little like shooting a film on 35mm and then transferring it to a video editing system. And I agree that good analogue equipment is a little bit like the film medium, in that it has a kind of masking effects that people like — things become better than reality. But digital has made my job much easier and much more cost‑effective. I'll happily put my way of recording against real world‑quality analogue and I bet that you'll be really hard‑pressed to hear any difference at all."