Pop Shield

There is a relaxed office space sandwiched in-between the transmission studios within the basement of soon-to-be-defunct Ye Olde House which doubles as a pop-up pop studio.

This is the place that boy bands, pop princesses, acoustic guitarists and shaky egg shakers unite to perform stripped-down versions of their top hits at levels slightly louder than the printer. Accompanied, if you’re unlucky, by the dibberty-dib of a mobile that’s been left on.

I have enduring memories of coming here as a trainee alone in the dead of night and excitedly/nervously playing out CDRs of DJ Reel’s show from the wrong studio with little training and no instructions. On the flipside, no one ever minded or criticised. Confused and sleepy, you were eventually rewarded by the last-minute smiling faces of the early breakfast crew.

Tonight, Nick Waterfall and I head down to this infamous spot to record a late-night live session for the last time before doors close. Our challenge, if we are obliged to accept: a lot of the equipment has already moved to the shiny new space in The Mothership. Speakers gone, PPMs gone, outboard gone…

Nevertheless, there is still a mixing desk, mics and XLR cables, a quirky Japanese reverb unit and some headphones. It’s business time! Of sorts. Ipso Facto meets Kryptic Factor.

Nick brings a rack of some of his favoured compressors. This is a GOOD THING as the artist in question is capable of delivering a dynamic range this radio station has arguably never experienced before. A dynamic range that would put Radio Tea to shame! Pre-network processing, anyway.

Monitoring is conveniently via another mixing desk 180° behind us. Nick spends half the soundcheck spinning around like a whirling dervish between front and back while I uselessly call out meter readings: “Peaking five and a half!”. He balances the music on a combination of headphones and the fixed speakers behind him, which I waste no time in christening ‘The Rearfields’.

And so, we come off air at the end of the session. Close the faders, finalise the CDs, coil the cables, pack away, put the mixer to bed. With that, The Lounge Is Dead. Long Live The Lounge!