I was already seething and it was only two hours into the second day of a video shoot. The artist had chosen to play live with her band and record a full set of tunes to Pro Tools for a concert-style video. She had hired a well-known recording engineer who is much noted for his live productions and a video company that boasted a roster full of film and lighting luminaries. I had worked with the artist for quite a few years and was called upon to provide and mix the live audio portion of the video and recording. I was told that the artist was paying for the project out of pocket and was asked to keep the budget as low as possible. Wanting to be of assistance, I quoted a fairly low rate for the shoot, which included the equipment as well as my day rate for the three 12- to 14-hour days the production would require. The first day, we were scheduled to load in and set up from 9 a.m. until 8 p.m. with a dinner break until 9 p.m., after which there was to be a full band sound and video check from 9 p.m. until 11 p.m. The following day, we were to return at 10 a.m. for a quick check, and then commence shooting the video at 11 a.m. for the next two days. The producer insisted that I load into the venue at 9 a.m., but I suggested that with all the lighting and video equipment loading in at the same time that it would be prudent to stagger the load-in and have me arrive at 4 p.m., which would then give me plenty of time to get set up and running. The producer told me that I should be there no later than 1 p.m. as the video and recording crew were quite fast and would probably be finished by the time I arrived. I told her I thought she might be a bit unrealistic in her scheduling, but agreed to a 1 p.m. load-in.
The venue happened to be a small club in midtown Manhattan in which I had already done a few shows, and I knew that the potential for overcrowding could be as likely as it is for the number 1 train during rush hour. I was not proven wrong, and when I arrived for my load-in at 1 p.m. I found myself working around and under the lighting and video crew, who had only begun to set up. I gritted my teeth, and with the one loader I brought (budget constraints, ya know), managed to run feeder cable and to get the console, snake and racks all set by 4 p.m. To reduce the stage volume, the artist and the producer had decided to have everyone on personal monitors with one pair of wedges downstage for the singer–just for some fill. I was running six mixes of PMs, one mix of wedges plus sending a left and right to the in-house system as the band had planned to do a performance (for the video) in front of a live audience.
The recording engineer had decided that he would bring all the microphones, and I was to bring stands, cables and two wireless microphones. By the 6 p.m. dinner break, I had the two wireless microphones and all of my personal monitors up and working and I fully expected to start setting the stage by 7 p.m. At 7 p.m., the backline arrived with some of the musicians and I helped them get set up, though I still did not have an input list. At 9 p.m., the microphones were still not set up, and I was told that the recording engineer and his A-2 had left for the evening and would return the following morning. When I expressed concern to the producer, he called the engineer, who told him, "By the time Baker arrives, he will have to play catch-up." The situation was exacerbated by the fact that the musicians had also left for the evening.
My callback time for the following morning was 10 a.m., and when I arrived at the venue, the stage had still not been set and it became apparent that the A-2 knew very little about miking a stage. Since I was told that I would be playing catch-up, I assumed that someone knew what they were doing, but there I was, working alone (budget, ya know), and explaining how to neatly run cable to the sub-snakes on stage. When everything was finally patched I had to run back to my console and start getting my mix and dialing in the musician's ears. As it turned out, not every musician had used ears before and they were not used to playing in such an isolated manner, thereby extending the time it took for them to get comfortable during sound check.
The band members kept complaining that the sampler, which was being run by the guitarist, kept changing levels between songs, and though I tried to explain that the samples were all playing back at different volumes, it still became my problem to fix. I had eight open wireless channels and was finding that I needed to change one or two of the RF frequencies to ensure that there would be no signal dropout. All of this takes a bit of time, especially when working alone, but I considered this to be a normal sound check, even accounting for all the anomalies.
The only real problem with my sound check was that the producer wanted to start getting some footage and was wondering why it was taking me so long to get set. The situation was getting frustrating as all energy was focused upon me while I was trying to iron out problems that were not mine other than by association. At one point the keyboard player, with great fanfare and exasperation, loudly complained, "Now I have nothing in my ears!" I walked over to the stage and plugged his ears back into the belt-pack, and though he apologized, I was fuming and beginning to lose patience with the situation.
While I was walking back to the console, the producer and artist decided to have a meeting with me to understand who was to blame for the shoot running so far behind schedule. While I didn't want to fan the flame of the blame game, I told them that I had expected to do the check the night before, but everyone had left before the job was done. My answer seemed to appease them for the moment, but I was furious at bearing the brunt of other people's ineptitude. I walked back to my console and one of the guys from the lighting crew (who seemed to understand the situation) said to me, "You must have the patience of a saint."
He was wrong, of course, since at that very moment, I was headed to the road case I kept for these special moments, but as I was opening the case marked "Uzi," I stopped for a moment to ponder the situation. I remembered a few years ago reading a news story about wrist bands people were wearing that bore the legend "WWJD." It stood for "What would Jesus do?" and was intended as a way to get oneself to think about a course of action before embarking upon it. Not being one who wore that accessory, this may seem out of character–who knows, it may have been the "saint" comment that provoked the thought–regardless, I found myself asking the question, "How would Jesus mix?"
I closed the case and turned away from my reactive desire to give a big shout-out with my Uzi, and it came to me in a flash. First of all, Jesus would always have a 12- man crew, which would include a monitor engineer, an A-2, a backline tech, a stage manager, a production manager, a tour manager and six loaders. He wouldn't need an electrician as he is always tied into a higher source of power, but, if need be, he could do his own electrical tie-in, though not while walking on water. If he arrived at a show and the system was too small for the venue, he could turn Mackies into line arrays, and if the mix was bad, he could always fix it by the laying of his hands on the console.
Hospitality would never be a problem, for those who accept him as their A-1 will never want for hunger or thirst. He would equalize his mix by dumping the seven deadly frequencies of pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy and sloth, while at the same time, boosting the frequencies of love, tolerance, compassion and forgiveness. If a musician lashed out at him about the mix he wouldn't fight back, he would just turn the other knob.
He wouldn't stand for hypocrisy and would probably say, "Render unto video, lighting and recording that which is theirs and render unto live sound that which is live sound's." In regard to blame, he would probably say, "Let those (in production) without blame cast the first cable." He would never mix with effects, though he could always work a miracle or two. His vocal mix would always be strong and affirming, while his background vocals would always be mixed to sound like an angelic choir. He would also definitely give new meaning to the "VOG" microphone. He would be selfless in his approach to mixing, and would never take the easy route–which means that he would most likely be in great demand with "metal" and "goth" bands. He would teach all those around him that the true mix is within and, of course, all his mixes would be heavenly with a beautiful redeeming quality.
Keeping these thoughts in mind, I was thankful that I held my temper in check and my Uzi in its case. The video shoot turned out to be a huge success and the mix was sublime, with everyone involved reaching a higher level of consciousness, understanding and "unity." That's how Jesus would mix!
