A self-described purist when it comes to production, Mike Watts takes pride in combining old-school elements with the latest technology. His recording base, VuDu Studios, is the best of both worlds, with the added advantage of providing a base for artists while they track. With the studio adjacent to his home, Watts offers, quite literally, room and "board" for his clients. The advantage, he says, is that when musicians come to VuDu, it’s all about the music — with no distractions.
Watts has been creating, performing and recording music since childhood. His innate skills have made him the go-to person for artists ranging from the melodic, harmonious Aranda to aggressive rockers Digital Summer. With his partners, Steven Haigler and Scott Justynowicz, Watts has taken VuDu from a studio in his house to a top-of-the-line facility, producing and finessing some of the industry’s best releases.
You are an engineer, producer, mixer and songwriter. Let’s define each of these roles as they apply to you.
In my opinion, it’s a jack-of-all-trades. I mix somewhat, I engineer somewhat, and most of all, I take part in every facet of every artist or band I work with, from start to finish. I’m involved in writing, changing chords and song structures, rhythm structures — it’s all in the structure. As a mixer, I get input from an outsourced producer, or the band has specific ideas, and if we need to make adjustments, I do that in the mix. It’s usually for radio-friendly bands that want something big, punchy, organic and full sounding and not Auto-Tuned or computer-based. I’m a purist with sound and making sure that the records are right when I produce and engineer them. I don’t punch chords in. That takes the life out of the music. I’m not sure how much the average public can tell, but I feel the difference. When I engineer, I help any producer I work with in my studio to get the sounds, make sure it’s recorded properly and done with the best possible sound quality, and dial up the best guitar tones and vocals to flatter the tones. With budgets these days, you produce, mix and engineer for independent labels and smaller label stuff.
And then the audience listens to it on handheld devices.
It’s tough. Earbuds are now a mix medium. I’ve got three sets of speakers and expensive headphones and also earbuds and an iPod and iPhone. I listen and send myself MP3s to make sure of the quality. People who are not audiophiles are not looking for sonic purity, but true fans are into that. Last year, I was on the CMJ panel with other producers in different lines of work and sounds, including commercial rock, hip-hop and R&B, and I was the organic purist. The sonic quality in each recording is a realization of real musicians playing. Even with the smallest record I’ve done, I’ve been complimented on the sonic quality. There’s no Beat Detective or samples. Producers ask me to do a radio mix of a rock band that did a big production and the label thinks it will be a single, so they ask me to take samples off of ten kicks and six snares and I think, How did the label and A&R hear things? Most of them are sending it through the machine to be a single, and it keeps budgets so inflated and it’s not necessary. I’m happy that budgets are being cut, because I see more work that way. They spend $400,000 to sell 100,000 units and they pay half a million dollars that you never recoup.
Will the producer become obsolete?
I don’t think so. Bands who are into the craft and take it seriously, bands who are about to break and right when they’re breaking to the next level … the bands I want to work with want a liaison between their creation and what will sell. They want to keep the musicianship, and they need me to make it commercially viable and keep it beautiful. They want the experience of going into the studio, making a record and living there for a month or two, as opposed to working for two hours in a room with no cohesive feel because it’s done piecemeal. Millions of people with Pro Tools think they’re making a good record, and they might be, but it's better to work with someone who is experienced and can point you in a better direction and get you heard.
When should they call you?
The best time for damage control is when a band tracks so much and gets “demo-itis.” There is something to be said about calling in a producer who can dive in structurally to the songs and chord progressions. You have to convince the band to let it go. Signed artists let you produce and do more, and bands that are about to be signed and have management and a label looming around think they know best. The toughest moment is letting go of what you’ve done to this point and letting someone push the gas pedal to get to the next level. It’s tough, but I have to stand by my convictions. I eat, breathe and sleep music and production. I know what’s better, and I can take their input and make a vocal melody more interesting. That’s what I’m here for.
How does your approach change when working with bands that are about aggression and power versus someone musical and melodic?
It’s being able to capture the energy in the performance, and that’s what I bring to the table as far as guitar and vocals. With Aranda, they have melody, harmony and softer drums, more of a British drum sound, as opposed to Digital Summer, which is straight-up, hard, heavy rock. Adelitas Way and Saliva — the guitar tones change. On a vocal level, with Aranda, the main vocal is very, very perfect and it’s a pretty performance, so the melody stands out. With Digital Summer, you do it for an aggressive tone. There are so many different things. I could go on for hours.
When did you first become interested in production and engineering?
I’ve been a musician since I was 4. I played drums and took lessons with the greatest musicians. I was always in bands and always the guy with recording equipment in the basement. I worked with all kinds of music. I did rap for a while and got my feet wet in every aspect of it. Once I hit a studio to record, I was 16 or 17 and I didn’t want to be in bands anymore. I wanted to pull this stuff apart.
When I was 11, my drum teacher was also an excellent piano player. He gave me tab, we played a Billy Joel song and I said, “You sing too high. It should be here on the piano.” I had perfect pitch. I was so interested in it and I never stopped. I didn’t want to do hip-hop at 25 or 26. I want to do rock. I opened a studio on Long Island, and I’ve been here for 16 years. I’m in such good proximity to Manhattan, but it’s not cluttered and claustrophobic. I have more space, more trees, you can go to the restaurant, there’s a clearer thought process. We did independent recordings, and we figured we needed to add sleeping accommodations for bands. I decided to find two acres of land with trees and deer and lots of quiet. I moved further east into a 9000-square-foot house and studio. My clients are willing to drive 40 minutes to get here. The studio is connected to my house. It’s a residential-commercial area, and if you want to be a party person, there are a couple of bars, but these people are not doing that much. I saw enough human wreckage and I got tired of it, so the advantage is that I live on the facility. It’s a family dwelling with a studio. When you have commercial property, they think they can destroy it. When it’s your home, they have more respect. They have great focus on the record. They eat and sleep here. They accomplish more and it’s way more musical because they’re just writing and recording. It’s a great experience. Every band that’s very serious should work with a producer and a studio away from home.
How would you describe your style of production and engineering?
I really like it to sound like the musicians are playing their instruments. I like Brendan O’Brien, Nick DiDia, the old-school thought process guys. You take that and Tom Lord-Alge’s mix — he’s musical and mixes sounds that are full and natural. Silverchair, Muse, I love their production. Nigel Godrich’s work with Radiohead — his production is very musical and pleasing to the ears. Pierre Marchand, who does Sarah McLachlan — it’s always about her vocal, and that’s the way it should be.
Can a producer or engineer be trained to discern sounds?
It really depends on the level of producer. Some can’t suggest the guitar part or bassline; they’re about making sure the groove is right and the performances are right. Can you be trained to do that at that level? I don’t know. You can’t just say, “I want to be a producer,” go to school, learn to wire a console and make a gold record. Interns tell me what an opto compressor is compared to a phantom, but I don’t know that or care. I say, “Put a Les Paul through a Marshall,” and they don’t know a single coil from an EMG. Those schools teach them signal flow and that’s it.
What were the steps from perfect pitch and Billy Joel to VuDu Studios?
Because of music being such a difficult industry in which to sustain a regular income, my parents forced me to get a degree in hotel management. I graduated from school as the head of all-state band, and I got a hotel management degree and began managing hotels. I learned to run a business, a staff, and it helped my people skills, my ability to work with people and how to try different tactics to get results. It all comes into play with each band member I work with to get the best out of them. I also had a studio in my house to record bands, and one day I was so upset about my line of work that I prayed I’d get fired. That day, I got laid off and I signed up for music classes at a local college so that I could be involved with musicians. I got a second degree, graduated at age 29 in music education, and continued working part-time as a restaurant manager. In 1996, I decided to leave. I opened my little crazy facility. I sold my car, moved my studio and made $100 a day to record. I made $2500 the first month, my rent was $600 and I thought, I could do this forever. I live, eat and breathe this, and my wife hates me for it, but it’s the love of my life. We’ve been married for five years and it took her a while to get used to it and understand it.
I started on 16-track half-inch, then ADAT, then back to two 2-inch 24-track Ampex 1200s and bouncing into Pro Tools. Those machines sound so good, but they’re so haphazard. Then I made the switch. I sold them. Analog eats up so much electricity when you’re tracking, plus the space and time to recall the mix. With budgets so low, I don’t have that time. With digital, everything is recallable with the touch of a button. I still want a Studer, just to have one.
Are there some key pieces of gear that you always use?
The Neve mic pres and the Neumann U47s. Those two pieces are unmatched. They can’t make them better than they made them in the 1970s. They are inaudible elements, but you feel them — the harmonics of the sound, the transformers and tubes. I can record anything with one Neve and one U47. I bought the Neves and the U47s probably six years ago. I’d made records without the Neves. I used them sometimes and they were my better-sounding records. I thought, Wow, I’m using the two Neves and it sounds more pure. I always wanted a U47. It’s the Holy Grail; how much better could it be? I went on eBay and I saw one for a reasonable price, and within two days there was another one from a different seller at the same low price for the long body, a later version, and I wondered which sounded better. I decided to try them both and then sell the other. I did a shoot-out with a 47, an 87, 15 different mics, and the two U47s stayed and I sold all the other ones. It has something to do with the fact that they are hand-wired, have a massive power supply and the right diaphragm, and the specific tube in it sounds very, very good. It makes it upfront and personal and flattering to the textures of the human voice, and it picks up frequencies that other mics don’t. It’s amazing. Other tube mics try to copy it, but they don’t come close.
How often do you work with files?
I only use files for mixing. If I produce, I want to be involved in every facet. My engineer tracks for me when I produce, and I’m involved with rhythms, kick and snare patterns, basslines, guitar strumming, leads and tones. I’m very hands-on, and I want to make sure the right things happen tonally, texturally and rhythmically from start to back.
When did Steven Haigler and Scott Justynowicz join you?
Steve came to the studio when it was just completed seven or eight years ago. He was based in North Carolina and bands would call him. He traveled up here because he didn’t have a studio. He came here to record Hopesfall and we hit it off because we have similar musicianship; we like recording organic, beautiful tones. He worked with the Pixies and made real stuff, moody music. He worked with Fuel and Oleander, which are big pop records. We have a similar direction. He brought all his recordings to VuDu and we started co-producing and doing a lot of good records together. He had to get a car, airfare, meals, and he couldn’t afford it. He needed a studio and I convinced him to move. With Scott, I was mixing a Long Island band he worked on in his home studio. He asked to come in and he watched me mix. He wanted to intern here, and he ended up coming around so much, and was so valuable, that I couldn’t let him go. He’s my right-hand man. He does a ton of my grunt work for me and he likes it. I get to sit in the chair and be musical.
Do you travel?
Yes. For Saliva, I went to Nashville. With Aaron of The Almost, I went to Florida. I’ll go anywhere as long as I get to mix here in my room, where I know the speakers and the system.
What does a band need to do for maximum preparation prior to tracking?
Practice to a click as much as they can. Sometimes local bands come in, they can’t play to a click, and I lose interest if they’re not going to take themselves seriously enough to play in time. There’s going to be a ton of engineering work to get it in line and sound at least cohesive. When you watch a band live and they speed up and slow down, it really bothers me. I won’t grid the drums, but there is nothing better than landing on a downbeat together and playing in the proper space and time. The amount of time it takes other musicians to learn the nuances of a drummer pushing and pulling … pushing is the worst. They always rush and play ahead, and guitarists are even worse because they speed up to be heard ahead of the kick drum. They’re fighting to play faster: “I’ll rush the downbeat and you’ll hear my chord,” and it’s 30 beats faster than any song I ever heard. Not every snare has to snap to a grid, but don’t start at 110 and end at 135. You sound like a wedding band.
How many instruments do you play?
I play my drum kit, classical percussion, marching band, Marimba, xylophone, piano, and I learned to read and write classically. I’ve played bass since I was 13 and had tons of acoustic guitar fingerpicking lessons. I can sing, but I don’t like my voice. I can hit all the notes, but they don’t sound good coming out of me. I did a project, 16 tracks, 2 inches at 15 ips. I sang with all the emotion I could, listened to the first pass and said, “Erase the song!” There’s no texture in my voice.
How do you keep from overstepping your boundaries?
It depends on how good or bad the musicians are. If they’re not playing the right parts, I work with them on how to perform properly. I grab their instrument and say, “This goes best with drums,” or I’ll play drums in front of them to show them the beats to play. There is no boundary if I think it’s wrong.
Where do they get themselves into the most technical trouble?
There are so many levels of bands and so many problems. I had a band come in, they were all good musicians, they played me the demo, we worked on guitar parts and suddenly the singer stepped up and it was a disaster. His cadence and melodies were atrocious, and when I told him, he fell apart. I had to work with him on everything. Sometimes the drummers don’t know how to hit the snare properly to get the song to crack. Sometimes the bass player uses a pick when he should use his fingers. It’s a different battlefield every day, especially with different genres. In most bands, the drummer and bass player don’t practice alone enough to make sure that the rhythm section complements the band. That’s the biggest issue. Some of them can write songs, but they don’t make it rhythmically.
What are you working on now?
I’m working on the Dear Hunter, Tragedy Machine, which is a side project for Kyle and Ian of Digital Summer, I produced two songs for American Fangs and mixed their record. I’m all over the map. My management company always has something for me. I don’t take breaks between projects. I overlap them. I stay sharper if I do that.
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