chasing the mix

last nite i mixed. and i tracked. then i listened. and i mixed. and i tracked. and i listened. and i tracked. and i cursed. i don't know what real producers and engineers call it, but i call it chasing the mix (race car drivers "chase the track" or "chase a setup" when they get behind the changes that a track goes through in a race. that's where i got it.). i couldn't get happy with what i had, so i added more to it.

more reverb.

more compression.

more delay.

more more.

that didn't work, so i started getting weird. i recorded a phone ringing. best wife ever's voicemail. my dog's barking (no, not my sore feet). nothin'. it didn't matter what i threw at the mix, it didn't work. this happens from time to time, so i did what you're supposed to do when you find yourself chasing it.

i shut it down. after 4 hours of head banging frustration, i realized (about 2 hours after i should've) that it wasn't gonna happen last nite. if i'd caught myself earlier, i could've moved to a new song and seen what was working. instead, i walked out of my studio at midnight last nite with probably less than i went in with (it's funny how adding more often gives you less). i was so busy trying to figure out what was missing, that i didn't hear what was missing:

it.

every good song has it. it's not something specific, it's just it. maybe it's the lift that a guitar lick creates in a chorus. maybe it's the spooky keyboard part that announces the bridge. athletes have an "it", books have an "it". songs do, too. i spent 4 hours trying to create mine, instead of backing off and coming back with fresh ears tomorrow (taking valentine's day off, thank you very much) and letting it happen. it always just happens. kinda like love i guess. you dont force it. you can work on recognizing it and taking advantage of it (in a good way), but you can't just make it (note: like love, you can't buy it and you can't hurry it.).

tomorrow's a new day. i'll find it. i know it's out there. i just have to listen.