Ordophon-upon-Avon (Ord St. Location)

ORD LOGO

Ordophon-upon-Avon
Recording Studio
San Francisco

Make your demos sound like records.
Make your records sound like hits!

Whether you're trying to make Pet Sounds or you're just drunk and don't want to forget your great new songs by the time you sober up, we can handle it.

Ask about our services, (really, just ask!)

and, don't forget to... ask for our free cup of coffee

Pontifications on the recording process as I see it now...
"Producer can be a bad word, depending on who's name comes after it."

How I got into having a studio in the first place...

Originally a vitamin storage room in the basement, the studio was a Teac 3340 and a Biamp 6 channel mixer. I was making recordings of my songs, for demos, not with the intent of releasing anything.

As I got more into recording all those songs I was continuing to write, I became much more interested in audio gear. My friend Aaron lent me a bunch of his gear, and I started making some more serious recordings with drums and a whole band playing at once, in the vitamin room.

For a while, as I really got into it, I was making noise quite a bit. The neighbors would call the cops, then eventually my roommate started calling the cops. The roommate moved, and I kept working. I kept the neighborhood happy by stopping at 10 o'clock.

Eventually, I lost my job, and had even more time during the day to work on songs. Bennett the drummer never had to go to work for some reason, and Peter could come play bass if I scheduled him on the half-hour, he preferred that. 3:30, 12:30, etc. Everyone's got their thing, he's got plenty of them.

Steve Barton of the band Translator asked me one day if I could record his new songs, acoustic, for fun. I'd never taken on a task like that, and Pete said it would be good experience. Steve said he wanted to make a rock and roll record with a voice and an acoustic guitar. In short, he ended up making a series of recordings with guitar overdubs, backing vocals, clarinet, mixing sessions, what have you. I thought, "I like doing this, but man, I gotta start charging for this, or I'm gonna hate everybody!"

By this time I had an ADAT, a full sized mixer, some outboard gear, monitors, headphone mixes-- a semi-pro setup. I did some work with a few local bands, although a lot of the best things never were released. Either the bands broke up, or they went and re-recorded everything and then put that out. I considered doing that with Sight & Sound before it came out, then figured it was a lame-ass idea. My role as an engineer/producer wasn't always the same. More on this...

As I worked on project after project, I kept buying more gear, by now it's turned into a whole other thing. I have a real appreciation for the way that the best records are the often the most simple. Even though I've incorporated Pro Tools, MIDI, samplers, and stereophonic recording into my recording processes, nothing's changed in the basic creative thoughts. Some of this new gear can save me time, although some of it takes a year to learn how to use, by which time it's obsolete.

With the Teac 4-track, I'd fill up all four tracks with junk, then mix that down to a portable DAT, a big deal in 1991. That DAT mix would go onto a new 4-track tape, on one or two (for a stereo basic) tracks, then repeat that process with the guitars and keyboards, etc., and do the vocals last.

In order to get the big stacked backing vocals, I had to go to yet another 4-track tape with a guide track, record all the oohs and ahhs in harmony, then 'wild sync' it back onto the master 4-track tape. I'd have start the tape machine at just the right moment, or the vocals would be ahead or behind the beat. By doing this, I could also clone all the backing vocals, just fly the same stacked vocal onto ALL of the choruses. After working so tediously on one chorus, I was happy to not have to do it three or four times over.

The studio was named at a gig I was playing years ago. I was announcing a song, saying I'd been recording it over on...I was about to mention what street I lived on, then I saw my ex-girlfriend. She wasn't allowed to know where my house was (still doesn't!), so the next thing out of my mouth was Ordophon-upon-Avon. I didn't even remember what I'd said, but I got a tape of the show. I thought it rolled off the tongue, and cryptic as hell.

I scouted out a location in town. Bennett thought it would be an ideal place to either grow pot or build a tracking room. When Dale was ready to get back into the music business for keeps, we decided to expand. Building a studio is nothing more than drawing pictures, doing some math, then putting up the walls, putting in the wires, obvious stuff. Making it soundproof is another thing.

Sheet rock is a pain in the ass. They breed special guys to do things like concrete, sheet rock, and insulation. The ones that don't quite cut it at that get to do the mudding. You know, put that white joint compound where all the sheets of rock join- hence the name. That was my job. When it dries, then you get to sand it smooth, and all the lovely white dust gets on your skin, in your hair, in your nose (you discover that later) and in your eyes. And, in your lungs unless you wear one of those shit breathers the insulating guys wear.

My supportive pal Lane kept popping in with nudie mags, checking out my work, saying, "CV, what you do is, you go get yourself a couple a guys from down on Army St., they'll texture the whole room in a half an hour!"

"Naw, I don't wanna go that way, and I could just see taking all my skin off bumping against a stucco wall. Besides, I'm almost done."

"You're fucking the job up here, ya rummy. Gimme that mud knife, I'll show ya how to tape and mud a room..."

The landlord had never been to the studio after I moved in. He needed to check out the foundation, so when he got down there, and saw the room, he said matter of factly, "I don't remember this-a place...."

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