As described in the Merriam Webster Dictionary, “a ‘professional’ is someone who derives their income from their specific knowledge or experience — as opposed to a worker, hobbyist or amateur without formal education.” I bring this up because I was engaged in a conversation with a co-worker regarding the status of certain musicians. My suggestion is that making a living from playing music does not necessarily constitute being a “professional” musician. While this may be a contentious and somewhat pedantic point, my argument is this: A professional musician is someone who is well trained, can sight read music, can play in most, if not all, styles and all situations (studio, theater, an orchestra pit, film and stage). A folk musician is someone who has mastered a certain style(s) and plays within a particular genre. The artist is someone with a specific vision and relies on the professional musicians to bring it to fruition and make that vision a reality.
Now, before the gnashing of teeth begins, another description of “professional” is from Wikipedia: “A professional is a member of a profession or any person who works in a specified professional activity. The term also describes the standards of education and training that prepare members of the profession with the particular knowledge and skills necessary to perform their specific role within that profession.” So, the lines blur, and while I have defined the “professional” musician, it doesn’t mean that the working and touring “folk musicians” or “artists” who are plying their trade are necessarily any less professional. I may be making a moot point by trying to clarify something that doesn’t require explanation, and I am not suggesting that a non-music reader, such as Eric Clapton, is any less professional or talented than a Tommy Tedesco or Quincy Jones; I am just making a distinction between them.
Any one of these musicians are great technicians, as well as creative artists in their own right, and while there is a level of technicality and artistry that is applied to everything they do, it doesn’t mean that everything they do is great art. The point being that while I am making a distinction between the various shades of “professional,” there is also a difference between technical proficiency and artistry. This applies to live sound as well as it does to the music itself, and while “technical artistry” may sound like an oxymoron, there are many engineers and companies hired for exactly that.
Ephemeral Artistry
Most professional engineers for top acts bring an artistry to their work, as do the companies that provide design for installs. Unfortunately, neither is a lasting art. The professional engineer may be able to preserve their mix as a recording, but no matter how great it might be, they can’t preserve what it sounded like in the venue itself. One can imagine by the quality of the mix, but it’s still not the same as hearing that same mix at 120 dB through a concert system. The design company may do an amazing install for a complicated venue, but any bit of nuance they may have built in to the system could easily be lost in the hands of a lesser experienced “professional” engineer.
I’ll go out on a limb here, but most engineers who enter the field of live sound tend to regard themselves as artistic types. Coming from a musical background, I too, am guilty of that vanity, and while my thoughts may be driven by hubris, my intention is to be the unseen (but heard) part of the band — the producer who not only amplifies the sound but artistically enhances it as well. Of course, one’s artistry is better served when the band is good, and all too often, our artistry is only as good as the band we are mixing. There is nothing more difficult that trying to make a bad live input translate to good live output, but it can be done. A technician might not be able to do that type of hat trick, but the artist might. This is not to say that they will make greatness from naught, but they will definitely improve naught.
Let me clarify by saying that there is nothing wrong with being a great technician. After all, it’s imperative that any great artist master technique in order to create their masterpiece, but in our case, we are often inextricably tied to the technicality of input coming into our console. We all know how difficult it is to amplify a weak vocal to get it above a loud band. How many times have any of us been accused of having a bad mix when posed with this type of situation? Of course, talent is also a necessary requirement in becoming a great technician (or an artist), and there is a fine line between a technically great mix or an artistic mix. I’m not sure that one would be able to discern the variance unless they were listening to the same show every night, but we all know the difference when that transcendent moment arrives. As I said before, it’s as much tied to the performance as it is its own je ne sais quoi, but there are those times that the mix becomes a work of art in its own right.
That Perfect Blend
It doesn’t happen all the time, but when it does, it is palpable. The mix goes from really good to magical, and while the engineer may feel like nothing has changed from the night before, it has. Perhaps the effects are more pronounced, maybe the dynamics are opening and closing a millisecond sooner, maybe the barometer in the room has dropped or maybe the band has ascended to a higher plane. No matter what it is that changed, the technique and the artistry will shine through, and the whole venue will be levitated with everyone present feeling it. When everything is sitting perfectly in the mix, the professional engineer — as artist — should not change a thing, the mix has arrived! Technique be damned! Sometimes magic happens and the technical turns to art. The technician goes for technical perfection, while the artist is mixing for a magical moment. My experience tells me that one should aim high and be master of technique, but aspire to the artistic.
