Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just do sound? And if people listened to us about what we think is the best way to go about doing so? Here in the real world, however, the list of other factors that interfere with and complicate the process is endless. I am one of those people who is just Overly Audio Oriented, and I really resent factors that compromise my personal quest for good sound.
But, the older I get, the more I have gained some sense of where the boundaries are in any given show situation. When it is a corporate party, say, I defer to the person who hired me. At a rock show, I swing a bigger stick.
When a support-act tour manager demonstrated that he truly did not know how to operate a mixing board without feedback in the mains, and was repeatedly ruining the first part of the evening, I asked him to step into my production office. I shut the door and informed him that, for the remainder of the shows on the tour, his band would be mixed by the local systems engineers; that he was free to talk to those local mixers, but that any attempt to touch the board could result in his being removed by security.
I don’t like to be a “sound cop.” But what I like less is really poor audio being perpetrated on an audience. Sometimes the clout I have is extremely limited, as at a recent corporate event. A sound company hired me to mix a cover band, and help strike the system afterwards. One of their main guys handled a specialty performer, and a tribute act brought an FOH mixer and some playback.
When I walked in, the mains were already in place, two tall trapezoids a side, on top of double 18 subs. The room was pretty cavernous, so the stacking brought the horns up to where their HF dispersion would be higher than the seated crowd’s heads, thus distributing speech intelligibility far and wide.
But here comes “Extremely Animated Man,” with his boldly colored shirt and tie, and manic smile. He has not been around all day while we set up, and has a strong need to act like he is needed now. Uh-oh! I take a quarter-step back and let the sound company guy lead the conversation. I identify myself as his assistant, when “Extremely Animated Man” scrutinizes us, seeking to categorize me in terms of the pecking order. “So he’s the guy I go to if I have an issue I want to discuss, then?” he asks. I smile and say, “That’s right.”
He actually wants to know if we can set the trapezoids down on the floor, next to the subs, and do the show that way. My sound company friend valiantly and politely explains how the cabinets are constructed to function the way they are set up right now. “Extremely Animated Man” knows enough to laugh at himself when he asks if we can fly the cabinets, joking, “I should have asked for that about two weeks ago, right?” I don’t smile, because I know where this is going.
Yes, we drop the tops down next to the subs. I am quietly cursing during the whole process. Our new buddy stands five feet back from the boxes, closer than any guests will be seated later, asks to hear a CD, and gives an immediate ecstatic thumbs-up. I do not approach him, shouting, “Hey, why don’t you bring in a couple hundred meat absorbers, and sit behind them, and see if you can hear somebody talking on a lav?”
The other thing that disgusts me is that now the cabinets are blowing mid-high information directly into the faces of the guests who are seated at the tables nearest the dance floor. The guy mixing the tribute act just did not care at all, and ran the rig wide open, until it sounded good to him, at the back of the room behind 500 people. Ouch!
Most of us who have worked for sound companies also know the occasional agony of picking up the payment from the client. When someone has repeatedly failed to behave correctly, and does not have cash when I arrive to load in, nothing comes off the truck.
Leading up to that are varying levels of flakiness. There was a venue that I brought systems into repeatedly, because they did not want to deal with owning a rig and having to deal with the maintenance of it, or expand their staffing to include sound people. It was easier to just keep hiring in, and that way they could mix it up in terms of the configuration – one day a full-blown concert deal, the next only one desk, with foldback monitors.
If they were flush, they would pay their tab, no problem. When they ran short of money, from under-attended shows, for example, it got really frustrating. The worst example was one night after a show, when I found their office coordinator, and said, “Whatever happened to so-and-so? I need the dough now, we’re almost ready to leave.” I will never forget her embarrassment as she told me he had snuck out the front door, and was gone.
I was furious, and wrote the sound company owner a note recommending we cut these people off. Nope. I rode back there the next day in a very grim frame of mind, and was actually pleasantly surprised to have the promoter walk toward me immediately, when he saw me onstage, hand me the envelope of cash that was owed, shake my hand, look me in the eye, and specifically say, “I know your focus is on production, and I apologize for distracting you from that.”
That meant a lot to me. Because I knew that this guy was into music as much more than a money-making proposition – punk rock was his religion, he had grown up in that culture and loved to propagate it. As long as the company got paid in the end, in a sense it was no harm, no foul. But those blood vessels in my temples had sure done a lot of pounding that they should not have had to do!
We learn things like fire code regulations. In my region, to the best of my belief, the rule is that an acceptable pathway measures at least 36”. I hired a sound company for a club gig recently, at a venue that normally features dance music. When it came time to place the mains, I was asked where they should go.
I pointed to the floor at the corner of the stage, and said right there, even though they would intrude into the existing corridor. The sound company guy was dubious. I said, “The law is 36” — use a tape measure; I’ve got one if you don’t. Put the outside edge of the box exactly 36” from the wall of the hallway, and build in from there.”
Sure enough, right before we opened doors, “Hulking Security Guy” approached me, blotting out most of the universe as he got nearer. He said, “Those speakers can’t go there, that’s a fire exit.” I looked him in the eye, and did not attempt to posture in any kind of argumentative way. “The law is 36”, they are 36” from the wall, and that’s where they’re staying. Okay?” I guess he went and talked to the manager, because I never heard another word about it.
So – don’t back down when you know you’re right, and have the status to back it up. But when you are outgunned, it’s a primate universe, even when the apes are wearing suits and ties, and sometimes the sad truth is that you just have to bite the bullet, and say, in effect, “You want fries with that?”