I’ve touched on the festival experience in this column before, but with festival season kicking off this month, I thought I’d revisit the topic and maybe offer some useful advice for anyone facing the “fun” of festival mixing.
A Very Wet, Late-Night Set
Last year, I worked a show at the Wacken Open Air Festival in Germany. While it wasn’t the worst festival experience I’ve had, I’d definitely say it was one of the less pleasant ones. Maybe it’s because I’m becoming a grumpy-pants and our time slot was 12:10 to 1:00 a.m. Ugh. I should be falling asleep while watching reruns of Law and Order at that hour. If I recall correctly, we had a 5:00 a.m. lobby call the next morning and — since we’d be flying out— we arranged hotel rooms near the airport approximately two hours from the festival site. Do the math. I don’t believe that my crew and I ever went to sleep that night. But that’s business as usual and just another reason why — at least from a live sound viewpoint — festival season stinks.
The fact that it was pouring rain didn’t help matters. Festivals go on rain or shine, so it’s not like there could possibly be a rain date (although if there’s lightning in the area, all bets are off and I’m pulling my guys off the stage). I was smart enough to have my combat boots with me, but one of my band guys literally lost a shoe in the mud and never found it. True story. So make sure you’ve got rain gear, and while you’re at it, pack a hoodie to put under the rain coat in case the temperature drops. Bring an extra pair of socks for the ride back to the hotel. Sometimes, it’s the little things that count, but you’ll be glad you did.
Access All Areas
My crew and I were scheduled for access to the stage at 9:00 p.m. I had advanced several rolling risers so that we could prep the gear prior to changeover: one riser for the drum kit, another for the keyboard setup and two more smaller (and lower) ones for the guitar rigs. Our plan was to prep as much as possible in the wings while the support acts were on stage, and roll out the gear during changeover. If I recall correctly, we didn’t get the risers for the guitar rigs but that wasn’t a big deal. We left the 4×12 cabs in the rolling “tray” part of their road cases, making them easy to move. The drums were set and drum microphones were placed well in advance of show time, so that part was easy. Ditto for the keyboards and their DI’s. What we did not anticipate were the conditions in the wings of the stage.
Our particular venue at Wacken, known as the Wet Stage, was actually two stages side by side. The backstage area (and I’m talking about the stage itself, not catering) and the wings were sort of common to both stages. As my crew and I prepped gear in the wings, one of the support acts was on stage. We were subject to the most disgusting display of onstage volume I have ever experienced. It wasn’t loud. It was brutal. In the words of one of my techs, who served as a special ops troop in the army, “it was the kind of volume level that you use as a form of torture.” He wasn’t joking. Even with earplugs, it was unbearable. We could barely communicate with each other, let alone express ideas to house crew who were not necessarily fluent in English. Maybe we need to add hearing protection muffs to the manifest in addition to 1,000 pairs of earplugs. I find it ironic that many European festivals have strict SPL restrictions at the FOH mix position, yet completely ignore the stage volume conditions to which the crew are subjected.
Assume the FOH Position
As showtime approached, I went out to front of house to saddle up with my console. By that time, a different act was on stage. The volume level at front of house was so disturbing that I could not communicate with the systems engineer who was standing right next to me. Really? What gives? Is it really necessary to mix that loud? Luckily, I had a pair of closed-back headphones with me. I put in my earplugs and then put the cans over my ears while Attila The Stun was mixing the support act on a different desk a few feet away from me. Doing so enabled me to just about hear myself think so I could dial a few things into my console. Leave your open-back headphones home.
Anyway, I managed to communicate enough via sign language with the systems engineer that he was able to load a scene from my USB drive into the console (a Soundcraft Vi4) so at least I’d be able to have a working scene to start. Make sure you travel with files for every console you can imagine — and carry files for consoles you can’t imagine. A phone call made in advance will give you a heads up on what desk will be available (don’t expect that you are going to get your preference), so if you don’t already have a file for it, you have a fighting chance at creating one prior to show day. We don’t carry backline or a microphone package, so the concept of recalling a mix is a suggestion at best — but it’s better than starting from scratch under pressure. We do carry our vocal microphones so there’s consistency in the sound of the vocals at every show, and they are easy enough to haul around with the rest of our fly gear.
Stay Calm and Make Sure the Mics Work
When changeover time came, the crew rolled our gear onto the stage. The house audio techs placed and pinned the remaining microphones, and we started to line check. Mind you, this was a quick turnaround. The band on the adjacent stage ends, and then it’s like… 10 minutes until the next act starts.
I’m a stickler for punctuality and have been known to get a little pissy when a support act starts late or goes beyond their designated time. At Wacken, however, I was on the other side of those tracks. During my line check, I was not getting all of the channels for Buck’s guitar. I don’t care who is yelling in my ear or my face (or at any other part of my body, for that matter) but I’m not starting a show without those inputs. I waited ten minutes until it was sorted out. In spite of how I abhor starting late, I thought, “Too bad, but I’m not here to see my guys be embarrassed.” Composure was my friend, even while I felt my blood pressure rise. Remember this: Composure is your friend, and you’ll be thankful that you remained calm when the night is done. In the unlucky circumstance that you don’t get a line check, prioritize setting the input channel gains and worry later about the small stuff. No one is going to care about the EQ on the hi-hat, or notice the action of the gate on the bottom snare microphone if they can’t hear the lead vocal. You can dial in effects, gates and comps as the show progresses.
Q is Not Just For EQ
Depending upon our set list, we have anywhere from three to five prerecorded show cues. Most of them are timed within their respective songs, so starting them at the right instant is critical. For that reason, I hate using the disk drive in a computer (they go to sleep, and even when they don’t, the drive never spins up quickly) or my phone or iPod (the screens behave erratically under certain temperature conditions, and using a music player on a phone is clumsy at best). Lo and behold, there was, in fact, a CD player at FOH, as I requested — and it worked! You might laugh, but it’s becoming more and more difficult to get an old school CD player at FOH. And all those audio files are on my phone anyway, just in case. I even carry the cues on cassette. Think I’m kidding? No, I’m not.
