Do you ever yearn for a simpler existence? A move to the country, or maybe a television that offers fewer channels? Putting the latter point to one side, there is a reason why so many creative types opt to shut themselves away in out‑of‑town studios or workspaces. It has everything to do with the way that individual creativity works, and removing distraction.
A good synth‑friend of mine often recalls how he was far more creative when all he had was a four‑track Portastudio and a Roland SH‑101.
I had a moment of revelation a few years ago while composing the music for a BBC TV documentary series. This was a time when samples, plug‑ins and software instruments were changing our working practices, in the extreme. The director suggested that they wanted the score to sound more like the output of a teenager in a bedroom, with a guitar, a bunch of pedals and 9V batteries. This was the polar opposite of the clean signal ethos being promoted at that time. Not being a guitarist (I never understood why anyone would play an instrument that hurts your fingers!) I had to resort to playing around with a synth, pedals and those ubiquitous 9V batteries, but the general ethos remained. Hums and crackles infiltrated my production, and while I would have previously done my utmost to eliminate these annoying noises, they seemed to go down well in the edit suite.
This learning process — which, to be fair, was generated by a non‑musical TV director who yearned to play the guitar as a teenager — sparked a wider change to my working practice, which I still try to use as often as possible.
A good synth‑friend of mine (we’ve all got them) often recalls how he was far more creative when all he had was a four‑track Portastudio and a Roland SH‑101. There’s a lot of truth in that! Working with minimal equipment often forces you to be more creative, so I decided that it’s never too late to try. Before you ask, no, I didn’t buy a four‑track Portastudio (despite them being back in fashion, thanks to artists such as Trent Reznor) but I did decide to produce a library album which was exclusively based around a Moog Voyager. It was nothing short of a revelation; challenge after challenge presented itself, but nothing seemed to stand between this fine, singular synthesizer and creativity. I purposely left the Voyager in an unprogrammed state, forcing me to create sounds as I needed them. Everything was created from scratch, from the drums and hats, through to the multiple tracking of pad‑like sounds, building chords from a monophonic source. It was some of the most fun I had had in years, and resulted in an album which you may well have heard on various sci‑fi and tech‑based TV shows, as is the library album way!
If there were a moral to this synth tale, it would be that honing your craft with less may create better musical outcomes.
If there were a moral to this synth tale, which is apologetically garnered with midlife reminiscence, it would be that honing your craft with less may create better musical outcomes. I continue to adopt a similar philosophy, by moving hardware around my studio on a project‑by‑project basis, in the synth equivalent of ‘I’m the King of the Castle.’ It really does help to maintain creativity and production motivation. I’ll sign off now, as I think my 9V batteries need replacing!