Pop Shield

Tonight, I am working with young Jazz Hands for the first time, prerecording his radio show. Midway through the recording session I start getting terrible splats through the mixing desk on the CD player channels. This results in a massive BANG that nearly blows up the loudspeakers. I honestly don’t have a clue what is going on. I try to address the problem whilst keeping the show going to tape.

Jazzy skips into the cubicle during a record. My eyes are drawn down to his very new and squeaky plastic-looking orange shoes. Hmm. This is a long shot, but could it be that static is causing some kind of interference? A while back, I heard a tale about something similar happening with another presenter. At a loss, I suggest to Jazzy that he take his shoes off. Still, the nasty surges continue. Next, my eyes are drawn down to my own shiny new boots worn for the very first time.  Hmm. In guilt and solidarity off they come. This is getting wacky.

Alas, the spikes ensue right to the end of the booking, causing an editing headache for later. I call the Ark, who send two maintenance engineers, side by side, ready to investigate. They soon discover that the mixing desk having completely lost timecode.  In hindsight, yes that was a bit more plausible than shiny shoes.

“Can I put my trainers back on now please?” says Jazz.

This morning I have been asked to rig some FX mics for Waylon Wine’s Show, something which happens from time to time.  A pickpocketing magician is brought in to demonstrate how distraction techniques can be used to pickpocket the presenter.  For radio.

In my rush to rig a coincident pair of 414s I leave my mic cupboard keys on the side in the studio.  Later on, I search high and wide for them to no avail.  I am not very happy as they contain all my studio and truck keys.  Later that day, after making several enquiries, I receive an apologetic phone call from the editor.  He tells me that they have rematerialised in Waylon’s pockets.

The moral of the tale is: If you can help it, try not to work with hypnotists or magicians.  And if you have to, lock up your valuables first.

Really, you couldn’t make it up.  Could you?  Well, you could.  But I didn’t.

Another classic Waylon Wine phone-in today.  I got a message before the show to set up a cushion with a mic next to it, so I knew it was going to be good. Turned out to be a live meditation demonstration.  Hmm, on-air silence, this could be interesting.

A very funny scene ensues. The guest is trying to get Waylon to relax and to stop him from talking in order to meditate. The slight problem being that this is a live radio broadcast and the person being asked to be quiet is the presenter.  Waylong sits on the cushion with his eyes shut, acting upon his primal journalistic urge to commentate whilst production staff fall about laughing on the opposite side of the studio window.

The show moves on to discuss angry farmers, the demise of a mayor caught stealing women’s knickers and another political debate on the middle east.  That’s radio.

Clarice has invited an African dance band to play.  She likes the sound of them.  They are billed as touting ‘the most exciting rhythm section in Africa’. Problem is, they have opted to leave their drums at the South Bank and have brought a Korg keyboard and a bass guitar along instead.

“Where’s the rhythm section?” whispers Clarice.

“Right there!”, I say, pointing to the bassist. “Oh, and they click their fingers!” I add.

Independently, the group leader has also concluded something is lacking and asks whether we have a proverbial house horse. I quickly magic up two drumsticks, a wood block and a percussive shaky egg. I pass on news of all these exciting developments to Clarice.

“Ooh, you are funny”, she says.

Indie rockers Panacea are playing in the Little Sister kitchenette today, it’s a special filmed one.  They’re one of those bands who have been around the block and just have a trusted touring tech, in this case Bill, to liaise with the in-house engineer i.e., me.  We get everything sorted before the band rock up. Cole Remedy, the lead singer, arrives last.  He’s wearing sunglasses, which is always confusing for communication. I say hello anyway.  Cole proceeds to relay all his monitor requests via Bill.

When we’re ready to go on air there are about thirty people in the room watching.  I go up to Cole and proceed to give him the usual pre-transmission briefing.

“So, Cole”, I say, “just be aware that you won’t hear Barry Bang’s voice in your cans so you might want to knock one off during the interview.”

Realising what I just said, I start to giggle nervously.

“Well, nobody ever asked me that before!” responds Cole as the room erupts.

Chiselled rock god Martin Larsen from 80’s pop sensations Yoo-Hoo! came in for a session on Little Sister Radio today.

On arrival, I meet Martin and his vast entourage at reception. The lion’s share of the party ride up in the big lift, and three more members jump in the small one, others opt for the stairs. Before I can realise what is happening, I am standing there alone with Martin waiting to take another ride. Oh, pants. Lift small talk. My favourite.

Fortunately, Martin is carrying a magazine. This may be a way in!

“Oh, New Scientist!” I squeak, sounding like a little boy mid-puberty. “That’s a clever magazine to be reading. My dad’s favourite too, in fact!”

“Oh, it’s not so clever, really” Martin mumbles nonchalantly.

I back-pedal furiously to keep the conversation away from its inevitable impending demise.

“Hmm, I suppose not. He does read it on the toilet after all.”

Nothing.

Eek!!

Late 70’s psychedelic punk rockers Another One Alone are booked in for a Vibe session in the Little Sister kitchenette.  The producer has warned me it’s going to be full blown and very noisy.  Despite this, the band plus entourage arrive in reception carrying two acoustic guitars, a snare drum, a bass guitar and the smallest bass amp I have ever seen.

Upstairs in the kitchenette, no one is in a hurry to get any work done.  The boys discover the delights of the Little Sister coffee machine while The Party Princesses hang out with them.  It’s got the feel of a student’s bedroom at 2am.  At times, organizing musicians can feel a little like herding cats. I try and usher them all in the vague direction of the mics I’ve set out for them.  I explain that they should perform ‘in the round’.  They claim that this sounds like a brilliant idea, but nonetheless the drummer stays put on the sofa in the corner.

“Shall I bring the mic over to you or would you like to come and sit over here with everyone else?” I ask.

He looks bewildered. “When you said play in the round, around WHAT were you referring to?”  he says.

“Well around the centre of the room, in a circle, sitting on these chairs, in front of these monitors.”  I reply.

“Oh”, he says. “Ok.”

Soundcheck starts.  It all feels a bit odd because the bass is coming really loud out of the tiny amp, while the acoustic guitars are really quiet, and the lead singer is wearing shades and asking for stadium-sized amounts of his voice in the monitor.  Best of all, the drummer has not opened his snare drum case and instead he is tapping the top with his fingers.

The drummer grabs me. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Sure!” I say, wondering what is going to come next.

“Do you have, by ANY CHANCE AT ALL, some kind of SPECIAL EFFECT you can put on THIS (indicates drum case) to make it sound REALLY INTERESTING and FAR OUT?”

“Yes, of course.”  I reply. “I’ll dial up something nice and a bit different to go on it.”

“Great!” says he. “Just make sure it sounds really, you know, like a VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY!”

We make a start.  However, things get even more strange when every single time we begin recording a mysterious noise appears.  Brrriiinnnggg!   It sounds like someone’s mobile phone going off.  I go back into the Kitchenette to track it down and go through all the ‘turn phones off’ palaver.  Then the noise happens again.  It is coming from the direction of the guitarist who is having a sip of tea out of a china mug.

“Do that again?” I ask.

Brrriiinnnggg!

The room erupts in laughter.  Turns out one of the kitchen mugs is a joke musical mug that plays a tune when you pick it up.  I swear I’ve never seen that mug before.  Or again, come to think of it.

And so it goes.  We do the session.  It sounds, well, unusual.  The boys seem happy, we call it a day.

“Did you manage to find something?” the drummer asks me at the end.

“Oh, yes, a nice spacey reverb, made it sound interesting!” I reply.

“Great, well done.” he says.

A few days later I receive a lovely email about how much they had enjoyed the session and how great it sounded.