Admittedly, this is a hypocritical topic for me to write about.
I'm the first to tell you I don't like limits, especially the speed type. But as I sit here listening to a record (yes, an actual vinyl disc thingy on a turntable), it's gotten me thinking about some things ... like limits.
A record is about 45 minutes long, which is a physical limitation of the medium. As an artist making a record, you had to be aware of that limitation from the very beginning. So dig this. If, for example, a guitar solo is really long in one song, the whole record can be affected ... another song will have to be edited or shifted in order to fit on the other side, or dropped all together in favor of a shorter song. The artist has to be tuned into the fact he or she is making a record – not just putting a bunch of songs on a shiny CD. I think this is one of the reasons why there are so many great records. The limits of the medium really forced artists to make tough decisions, instead of the now all too common shoulder shrugging comment, "put them both on there – if they don't like it, they'll skip over it."
Wait! There's more!
Let's look at limits while recording. First of all, this whole "unlimited track count" thing has been rubbing me raw for years. What's wrong with 24 tracks?!? No, this isn't the typical "The Beatles recorded on a four-track" argument – that's lame and here's why. One, they're The Beatles. They could've called the radio station and sang a song onto the answering machine and it would've been a hit. Two, everyone else at the time (who could afford it) was recording on a four-track, too. It wasn't some "back to nature" hippie thing.
Moving on. A million and nine (roughly) records were (and still are) made on 24 tracks or less. This limitation forces the question: "Is adding a whale sound in the verse worth sacrificing my harmonies in the bridge?" It's a lot like the length of a record situation. One thing affects another: The better song, the better idea, the better performance wins. It's like some sort of uber-cool natural selection theory.
Next up: Time. I'm all for budgeting enough studio time for the process to take place. It's best to save the "now or never, do or die" situations for the John Wayne movies on AMC. However, I think the "studio in the box" propaganda machine has overlooked the negative aspects of what happens when you have total access to your project, 24/7.
Without limits, it's even easier to get lost in the process because the process has no defined boundaries. Artists tend to get bored with their projects and start to wonder if a cowbell is the answer. Contrary to popular belief, cowbells do not cure any type of fever. Ever. It's not just artists, though. I've actually mixed the fun out of a song or two in my day. It's kind of like the old adage, "it takes two people to paint a perfect painting ... one to paint it and the other to shoot him when he's done." Without restrictions, we just keep painting until the canvas is black. The solution? Limits.
"Hey, come record with me, I'll show you limits like you've never seen!" isn't something you would ordinarily want to hear from a producer, but the true lesson here is limits really can be useful. Having a limit to the number of songs on a record demands better songwriting. Having limited tracks forces you to learn how to be a better recording artist; limits force us to make decisions. I think decision making has become a lost art. (Well, I think it has, what do you think?) I often see creative energies drained by listening to dozens of takes, instead of making a decision right away and moving on.
Working within limits can create really cool heart-pounding moments, too. There's nothing like beating a performance by recording over it. Decisions like that really snap you into focus and often lead to better performances, along with a huge sense of accomplishment. These limitations also give you the opportunity to listen to your 24 tracks (or less) and ask "Is this working? Is my message getting across to the listener?" If not, these same limits allow you only a few choices: Live with it, mute something, or do it again. Not bad choices to live by.
Let's be honest, when was the last time adding a backwards cymbal to a song really solved anything?
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