Reverb Interview: Recording Legend Eddie Krameron Guitar Tones, Working with Musicians and theModern Studio Process Feb 17, 2016 by Dan Daley

In the recording studio, there’s a ton of talent on both sides of the glass. Much of themagic is made out of sight, by people whose names once could be found on the backs ofLP sleeves, and later in the small print inside the jewel case of a CD. But as musicmoves ever deeper into virtuality, those names get harder and harder to find. Nowonder Russell Simmons and Diddy had clothing lines on the side.

Eddie Kramer has dabbled in schmatte — a line of scarves he designed to evoke thesynthesis of “vintage rock meets sophisticated Englishman lifestyle.” But he made hisbones as a recording engineer and record producer at a time before that role made hima celebrity. His ear was sharp and as a result his discography is stunning. He helmedJimi Hendrix through the Are You Experienced?, Axis: Bold as Love, ElectricLadyland and Band of Gypsys albums.

His touch on the faders also is all over seminal records by Led Zeppelin, Kiss, the RollingStones, Jeff Beck, Tommy Bolin, Eric Clapton, Brian May, Ted Nugent, Todd Rundgrenand Johnny Winter. And he’s responsible for recording and producing several of the mosticonic live albums of all-time, including Kiss Alive! and Frampton Comes Alive! And thatjust takes us into the ‘70s.

Since then, the South African native, who grew up in legendary London studios, like Pyeand Olympic, also delivered hits for Steve Vai, Anthrax and many others. As importantly,he’s also turned the role of producer into that of curator, working with the Hendrixfamily and bringing Jimi’s legacy into the 21st century via carefully remixed andremastered posthumous releases.

But deep down inside, Kramer retained the sensibility of a musician, the kid who tookpiano lessons after school, who grew up listening to Bach and Bartok, which led him to

jazz, and finally to a career that shaped much of the canon of rock music. Eddie Kramerunderstands musicians because he is one of them.

The world knows you as a creature of the recording studio, but do you stillconsider yourself a musician?

My dad was an avid amateur violinist, and there was always music in the house. Myearliest and clearest memory growing up in Cape Town was listening to 78 RPM recordsdropping down on the automatic changer. I could, at a very early age, recognize fromthe labels precisely what it was I wanted to listen to. I pointed out if I wantedTchaikovsky or the Bach or whatever.

So having had that experience, and growing up with classical music all the way up until Iwas a teenager; that’s when the train ran off the track. I got into jazz, much to myfather’s chagrin. He was really pissed about that because he didn’t want me going to theclubs and smoking weed or whatever. He would use the South African expression, “Youdon’t want to go and smoke all that dagga down there.” I loved jazz very much, equallyas much as classical, and then I continued my classical studies. I actually went to theSouth African College of Music, even though I was still in high school. Then all bets wereoff when I got to London.

That’s when you went right into the studio side?

Pretty much. I arrived in England in December of 1960 and by the end of ’61, January of’62, I was in Advision Studios, my first job. But the musical part of it never left and it’s

always a huge front-and-center part of my life. And it’s front and center when I react toanything, I’m so blessed to have had this wonderful musical background. I feel like thereare a lot of young bands out there that are cutting edge, that are doing great things. Ilisten to the music first and the technical stuff is really secondary, that’s more means toan end.

When you meet a musician you may want to work with, what do you look andlisten for? What cues beyond their chops are you looking for?

Feel. Feel, feel, feel. Give me feel over technique any day. It’s the way the artistexpresses him or herself."

Feel. Feel, feel, feel. Give me feel over technique any day. It’s the way the artistexpresses him or herself. Initially, if I’m listening to a piece of music, I listen intently forthe communication level. If there is a huge level of communication from an emotionalstandpoint, that gets me right off the bat. I never have worried about mistakes, I’m notattracted to musicians who are technically perfect. Although I admire them, it doesn’trock my boat.

You’re known as a guitarist’s producer. For someone who’s spent so much timewith guitar players in the recording studio, how does that influence yourapproach to musicians who play other instruments? Do you somehowunconsciously not lean towards the keyboard-centered bands?

I don’t consciously; I just think that the music is thrust upon me and I sort of reactaccordingly. Obviously, because of my history, I get guitar-centered bands. But thinkabout some of the other records I’ve made that have been big hits, like Carly Simon’sfirst album, that’s very keyboard-central. “That’s The Way I’ve Always Heard it ShouldBe,” which was a nice hit. And I love working with solo artists who play keyboard. I don’tcare if the artist were playing French horn or an oboe. If it’s cool and hip, I’m in.

So is it the artist or the song?

I would say the song really gets me first. I mean if somebody just sends me an MP3,which is how I’m getting a lot of my stuff, and I don’t care who the artist is, I click on itand I listen. It’s the song that grabs me first, and then how does the artist sing, what’sthe band doing, all that kind of stuff. But if the song doesn’t grab me, I’m not interestedso much.

Was that the case with Kiss? There was such a visual component there.

You know, it was that completely wonky, off-the-wall kind of thing. I knew Gene[Simmons] and Paul [Stanley] because they were always hanging out at Electric Lady,and of course their first album, asWicked Lester, sort of went straight in the toilet. ButGene and Paul had this concept. They had an idea how to take glam rock and Kabukitheater and explosions and all the rest of that, and try to make it into some sort of ashow. I remember going to see them at the Hotel Diplomat in New York in 1972 and Iwas blown away because of the show. That was undeniable, and the kids were going outof their bloody minds.

Was it a challenge to translate that visceral experience into the studio?

I think the reason that I wanted to do Kiss was because it was a hell of a challenge.They couldn’t play in time; they couldn’t play in tune, because of all the dancing."

I think the reason that I wanted to do Kiss was because it was a hell of a challenge.They couldn’t play in time; they couldn’t play in tune, because of all the dancing.Imagine you’ve got six-inch heels, you got bombs going off, fireworks, smoke, andyou’re jumping around in these boots and you’re trying to keep everything in tune andin time. It was pretty tough. So that was the challenge: how to make it all sound cooland tight.

You began working in an era when it wasn’t unusual for a producer to work ona record from basic tracks to overdubs through the final mix. That’s much rarerthese days. What kind of a difference did that deeper involvement with themusicians in a band make in the relationship, and can we still achieve thatthese days?

It’s a great question because so many bands now, XYZ producer will do some pre-production and cut the basics. Then the next guy will come in or maybe the band will dothe overdubs. And the third guy will do the mixing and final overdubs with the vocalist.It’s a bit of a mix and match, isn’t it? You don’t get the consistency that you’re lookingfor, and it makes for a poor understanding of the band and the music and the direction.It’s valid I guess, it’s just not my style.

It’s funny how the pro audio magazines Sound on Sound and MIX have thesame department: Classic Tracks. There’s such a fascination with how peoplemade records 40 years ago. And then they turn around and they say, “OK, let’sgo. We’ve got 200 tracks on Pro Tools, we’ll make decisions later.” Musicians’decision-making processes have changed.

This is the bane of my existence. And I say to all the students that I have the greatpleasure of talking to, whether it’s at Musicians Institute or Berklee or wherever: Makethe decision -- and the commitment to that decision -- as you’re doing it. Don’t delaythe process because you’ll screw yourself in the end. And there you are, sitting with yourPro Tools file and there’s however many bloody tracks there are, and none of it has anysound to it. Then you have to start pissing around with the bloody computer and plug-ins and all the rest of that, trying to find “the sound.” You can be there for bloodymonths. Whereas the way I do it, I cut 24 track or 16 track, 15 inches per second, andthen dump that into Pro Tools 24/96 and now we do some overdubs and finish. But it’s acontinuous process. Once I get to the final mixing stage, now we’re mixing through ananalog console, through tons of vintage outboard gear, in addition to which I’m alsomixing in the box as well. It’s an in-and-out-of-the-box hybrid, where you get the bestof digital and the best of analog.

Is Eddie Kramer ever going to make a record on a laptop?

No.

When you’re in the studio with a band, do you tend to spend most of your timein the control room or in the recording space?

A combination of both, but mostly in the control room. But I’m running in and out,tweaking the mics, you know. But the traditional way is still a good way: You put theamp head in the control room with the guitar player. You can stare at him, he can stareat you. He can get pissed off or whatever, and we help each other. It’s an interactive

process. I prefer to be in the room making the decisions with the guitar player. Let’s justtake a guitar player doing his overdubs at home and he sends me the file. Yeah, that’scool, but you know there’s something missing. And once I bring him into the studio andwe set up the amps and we start recording, all of a sudden he’s on fire. Why? Becausethere’s an immediate reaction from me. “Hey, you know that little piece there, in thebridge, turn it around.” And all of a sudden the guy gets excited, I get excited, and theperformance is better.

Bands may fancy themselves as good musicians but there are times when theproducer may feel the need to bring in other players. What’s that dynamic like?

Tough. Sometimes you’ve got to be the heavy and say, “Dude, it’s just not cutting it. Imean, bring in Tim Pierce or somebody.” That’s a tough one. You give a guy everyconceivable chance to cut it. And if it falls short, it’s not only going to be him. It will bethe whole band who’s going to say, “Dude, that solo’s still not making it, we’ve got tobring somebody else in.” Most of the time it does not happen, but when it happens italways causes a bit of grief.

What kind of tricks have you used from group to group to get a goodperformance?

The whole thing, it’s a game. How you build confidence in the artist, whether it’s theguitar player, the piano player, I don’t care, but let’s use singers for example. In orderto build the confidence, one of the easiest things to do is to make sure that theheadphone mix sounds really cool. Get that right and you’re halfway home. Obviouslyyou adjust the atmosphere in the room itself. The artist has to feel comfortable.Sometimes they don’t want to look at you, so you turn them around and they’re fine.Sometimes the artist will say, “I can’t get the vibe in here, I don’t want to hearheadphones.” Cool, bring them in the control room. I’ve done many vocals in the control

room with an SM7, even with the monitors fairly loud. I don’t care if there’s a bit ofleakage, if he gets the great take, we’re in.

When do you know it’s not going to work? Would you go to remedies such asAutoTune faster these days? Electronic remedies?

If it’s a really great performance and there’s a couple of suspicious notes, first thing Iwould try to do is copy and paste from another performance. Or if that doesn’t work,then I’ll do a little touch-up with Melodyne. I really try to avoid it if I can, but sometimesyou have to. Unfortunately, you’re opening a Pandora’s box, aren’t you? Then everythingsounds so bloody perfect. And then when you hear the singer live, you wonder, who isthat?

Do you work with a musician on their combination of instrument, amplification,and processing? Do you sit there and coach a sound out of somebody?

Absolutely. One of the first things we do is we set up the amps and I like to have abunch of them. Small amps, vintage ones, Marshall, an AC-40. The musician will havehis or her guitar amps and guitars and we go through them. We may even have to gofor a rental, like a really special Guild from 1940. We’ve often done that. We set a bigline up in the studio and go check each one, same guitar, couple of chords, okay thisone’s cool, this one maybe not so much for the solo; yada, yada, yada. We go throughall of those, find a great rhythm sound, whether it’s a combo of an Orange and aMarshall or whatever it is, and then I dial that up in the control room with the guitarplayer and we go: hmm, that’s cool, but let’s just try a little bit of this distortion or thatpedal.

Are guitar players, or musicians in general, over processing their sound?

Yeah. Yes, they are. Do I love just a guitar straight into an amp? You bet. One or two,three pedals, fantastic. I think the over-usage of pedals sort of masks the music. Yeah,it’s fun, it’s cool, it’s interesting, nice tone colors. But I’m a little bit, shall we say,prejudiced in terms of the purity of how things should sound or could sound without theintervention of a pedal board.

Is over processing compensating for something else?

There’s a bunch of guys who do the pedal board so bloody well and their music is stillcool, so you can’t really make that accusation. But correspondingly, there are a bunch ofguys who rely sort of heavily on the bloody pedal board and it sounds a little bit cheesy.If a band walks in and they’ve got a gazillion pedals on their pedal board, I say, “Guys,bypass everything. Let me hear you play straight through the amp. Let me just see whatyou’re doing. Oh, OK. Well, that sounds nice. Maybe we just add a little bit of this, and atouch of that. And all of a sudden, the sound is purer and heavier, fatter and in yourface; and the message doesn’t get degraded.

One last question, and it has to do with business but it also has to do with therelationship between you as the producer and the artist. What’s the neweconomic dynamic between producers and artists these days? It’s no longer

three points and an advance. Has that conversation become a hard one to havewith artists?

Very. You try not to have it with the artist as far as possible. Instead, you try to gothrough their manager to make that deal. Obviously, the deals that are structured todayare completely different. No longer are there the $50,000 or $60,000 advances. You’dbe lucky if you get that. Yes, there are some record companies that are giving smalladvances but generally speaking not. The money is not there as it used to be. How weget paid is a trick, and that’s another conversation for another day.

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