Pop Shield

Boy, what a day! I started the morning pretty exhausted after a looong night at Horse Craze last night, but – oh no – an easy ride was not to be had!

First off, our morning band Jaguar Baguar get stuck in traffic and after several phone calls they arrive, stressed out and over an hour late for Little Sister Live. There’s a scramble and I manage to get a balance together. Jaguar Baguar fall on air, and it kind of works, lacking in refinement admittedly.

We haven’t managed to record the usual extra off-air track, so I quickly check the calendar to see if the studio is free afterwards. There is a Clarice booking pencilled in, so I leave a message for AD to let me know whether he needs the studio time. We get it done.

Throughout the busy morning, I receive endless phone calls. ”The band are not here” (OK). “The band are still not here” (OK). ”The band are here” (I’m coming). “I have some people in reception for you to come and collect” (I’m a bit busy, can you send them up?). ”Hi, where do you want these two cabinets, then?” (er, bit busy, can I call you back…no? oh, in that case please can you put them in the corridor) ”Hi, I’m really sorry, but about that Clarice booking, well a troop of Korean traditional musicians never confirmed, but now they have unexpectedly arrived in reception to record a session and I need you to do it if possible.” What??? I kid you not. Nice one AD! Can’t really say no when they’ve come all the way from Seoul 🙂

As soon as Jaguar Baguar are done, I run away out of the overheated studio into the fresh air to go and grab some lunch. I leave AD to handle the load in.  Spot some Koreans on the way out through reception.  Run! Head down! Do not pass go, do not collect £200!

When I return to the studio I haven’t a clue what to expect. I find there are four Korean musicians sitting on the floor plucking long wooden zither-like instruments with short sticks. I say ‘hello’ to everyone and discover to my delight that their manager has an extraordinarily long handshake.  Goes on for ages. She introduces me to their sound engineer who speaks no English but has a much shorter handshake. I try and sense if he is hostile or not, but the cultural differences are too big to tell. He sounds cross but he’s smiling a lot. I think it’s ok. The manager translates what he needs to tell me and it’s all pretty familiar stuff. This is where you need to capture the plucking, this is where the resonance is, and so on. You will probably need eight Schroeder U87 microphones (sounds the same when you say it in Korean) placed around here and here. One of the many wonderful things about sound engineering is that it transcends language. Well, I certainly don’t have eight big boys, but I find as many quality condensers and short stands as I can and spread them around, derigging from the previous session as I go.  And trying very very hard not to step on any custom-built zithers.

One of the players has brought an unfathomably cute daughter holding a yellow teddy bear. It’s like a mascot carrying a mascot. She is being looked after by the manager in the control room. Before long I get her on the talkback giving instructions to the musicians, which goes down pretty well. After that she falls into a deep sleep during the second take, tired from a long flight and all the excitement.

Now, about the music. In the absence of any reference points or any kind of mental preparation whatsoever I’m not entirely sure what the intended sound is from what I now discover is a “geomungo” orchestra. If it is a brace of ducks, that is good news.

We record. They listen back. ”Are you happy?” I ask. ”No. Yes, happy sound but not happy playing. We do it again. Now, we are bit more happy, but not very happy. But we must go to another radio show.” An endless string of thankyous and smiles and goodbyes. And off they pluck to The Mothership.