M i x i n g a M u s i c a l M i x i n g a M u s i c a l Broadway Theatrical Sound Techniques Shannon Slaton AMSTERDAM • BOSTON • HEIDELBERG • LONDON • NEW YORK • OXFORD PARIS • SAN DIEGO • SAN FRANCISCO • SINGAPORE • SYDNEY • TOKYO Focal Press is an imprint of Elsevier Focal Press is an imprint of Elsevier 225 Wyman Street, Waltham, MA 02451, USA The Boulevard, Langford Lane, Kidlington, Oxford, OX5 1GB, UK © 2011 Shannon Slaton. Published by Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Details on how to seek permission, further information about the Publisher’s permissions policies and our arrangements with organizations such as the Copyright Clearance Center and the Copyright Licensing Agency, can be found at our website: www.elsevier.com/permissions. This book and the individual contributions contained in it are protected under copy- right by the Publisher (other than as may be noted herein). Notices Knowledge and best practice in this field are constantly changing. As new research and experience broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, profes- sional practices, or medical treatment may become necessary. Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowl- edge in evaluating and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described herein. In using such information or methods they should be mindful of their own safety and the safety of others, including parties for whom they have a pro- fessional responsibility. To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or editors, assume any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of any methods, products, instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Slaton, Shannon. Mixing a musical : Broadway theatrical sound techniques / Shannon Slaton. – 1st ed. p. cm. ISBN 978-0-240-81759-0 (pbk.) 1. Theaters–Electronic sound control. 2. Auditoriums–Electronic sound control. 3. Sound–Recording and reproducing. I. Title. TK7881.4.S57 2011 792.02’4–dc23 2011027538 British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library For information on all Focal Press publications visit our website at www.elsevierdirect.com 11 12 13 14 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America Dedication To my wife, Mollie, thank you for all of your support. To my son, Parker, you make me believe in superheroes. To my daughter, Lizzie, yes you are a princess with magical powers. Also to three of the best mixers I have ever known, Jordan Pankin, Bob Biasetti, and Francis Elers. I have learned most of what I know from these guys. Finally to Patrick Pummill for being a great friend and one of my favorite people to talk shop with. Foreword xi FOREWORD ON MY OWN, PRETENDING HE’S BESIDE ME. ALL ALONE, I WALK WITH HIM TILL MORNING. How many times did my fingers do everything they could to make sure the audience experienced the full power of those words from arguably the most beautiful song in a score filled with beautiful songs, Les Misérables? Not that my fingers were tripping along the keys of a piano, or clutching the bow of a violin, or strumming the strings of a guitar. My fingers were on the sound console. Just about my favorite place in the world. The only drawback to being a successful Broadway designer for 25 years is that I rarely get a chance to mix any- more. I oversee the mix. I note the mix. I even get to choose the mixer. But that’s not the same thrill as being the person at the board, knowing that the slightest adjustment of any one of a number of knobs will subtly—yet greatly—impact the audience’s enjoyment of what they’re hearing. A smart performer and a sensitive mixer is an unbeat- able combination. How I loved giving that almost imper- ceptible bump in volume at the climax of a big dance number so the lead dancer could hear a little more, thus giving her the boost she needed to bring the number home. On those nights when that dancer (I’m thinking of the late Deborah Henry as Cassie in the international tour of A Chorus Line) would shoot me a conspiratorial look— “Thanks, Tony!”—while never breaking character … well, those are the moments I’d hoped to one day have before I went into show business. Back then, I didn’t even know that a thing called sound design existed. I knew I’d work behind the scenes, but I wasn’t sure in what capacity. As soon as I stood at a con- sole for the first time and realized that my love for and knowledge of music could be merged with my facility xii Foreword for equipment and electronics, I was hooked. Little did I appreciate that I was setting my sights on the most elusive of the four major design elements. After all, the scenery is on stage at its mark, or it isn’t. Clear. The lights are on and at their appropriate color or they’re not. Clear. The actor is wearing a costume and it’s not inside out. Clear. But when the level for the leading lady’s microphone is in its proper level for her 11 o’clock spot … not so clear. Except to the mixer, and (hopefully) the designer. Everyone else? Well, sound is nothing if not subjective. What sounds great to your ears might sound terrible to someone else’s. Lesson number one: TRUST YOUR EARS. That’s why those lyrics from Les Miz mean so much to me: on my own. That’s how the mixer sometimes feels, I know from experience. And I imagine that’s how many a performer feels when s/he is in the spotlight. But the truth is, the two are linked: what the one is singing or saying, the other makes sure can be heard. I remember mixing Frances Ruffelle, the original Eponine in Les Miz on Broadway. Maybe it’s because Les Miz was the last show I officially mixed before making the transition to sound designer. Or maybe it’s because Frances and I collaborated so well. I remember discussing with her the poetic nature of the lyr- ics to “On My Own,” which employed sensual, visual imag- ery that Frances conveyed beautifully. The next night, I did my part, and when she got to the lyric: IN THE RAIN, THE PAVEMENT SHINES LIKE SILVER. ALL THE LIGHTS ARE MISTY IN THE RIVER I touched-up the reverb on her s’s and t’s. The resulting shimmer in her voice worked in tandem with her interpre- tation of the song. The audience response was even wilder than usual. And Frances knew that she was not on her own. I was beside her, albeit at the back of the house, and very proud to be an integral part of presenting our show as art- fully as possible. Of course, not all performers are Frances Ruffelle. In fact, few are. Less secure singers often have inconsistent, sometimes erratic responses to what they perceive to be nightly changes in sound quality. I say “perceived,” because Foreword xiii the actor is usually in the worst position to judge what we’re hearing in the front of the house, which is quite dif- ferent from what he’s hearing—especially when there are no vocal monitors on stage. So in addition to striving for consistency in the mix, it’s crucial that a mixer understand that part of his job is to liaise with the performers; regular visits backstage for some face time with your cast will result in their having more confidence on stage. Makes sense, doesn’t it? If the cast knows you care, that you are—at every moment—“with” them, that you love their performances and your job, they will assume you have their “ears,” if not their back. Psychology 101, to be sure—but then a good mixer should study human nature as rigorously as he stud- ies the latest model of microphone. Which brings me to Shannon’s wonderful book. Because all the poetry, the politics, the partnerships that made mix- ing a show something I loved doing, none of it would’ve been possible unless I understood technically what a con- sole is, what an orchestration is, what a sound effect is, etc. It’s like studying an instrument: you can’t play a symphony until you’ve mastered the scales and all the other technical requirements of your particular instrument. My instrument is the console. I’ve been lucky enough to play symphonies on it. The information in this book will help you do the same; the love in your heart for what the- atre can be will help you derive from it the kind of joy I’ve been lucky enough to know. —by Tony Meola preface xv PREFACE Before I get started with this book I feel it is important to answer some key questions like… Who am I? Why am I writing this book? Who is it for? How is this book laid out? And… if a speaker feeds back in the woods, will anyone hear it? So let me start with the first question. Very simply I am a sound person. I will do and have done almost any job in the field of theatrical sound. I also consider myself a stage- hand. I am willing to work anywhere I am needed in the theatre, but I probably shouldn’t be allowed to wield a jig- saw or repair a wiggle light. I started dabbling in theatre in high school back in the mid-1980s. I was a spiky-haired lit- tle new-wave punk looking for a place to fit in and for some reason the theatre department drew me in. My first venture into theatre was as the newspaper boy in Thornton Wilder’s Our Town. Ah, those were the days. At that time I considered myself an actor, but I was one of the few who hung around to build the set and hang and focus the lights. I remember doing musicals back then with no amplification. Nowadays there are high schools running 30 wireless on a musical. It just blows my mind how much things have changed in 25 years. After high school I went to college and studied English and Theatre. What a money-making combo that is! I con- sidered myself an all-around theatre person and I enjoyed acting, directing, writing, and teching shows. Right after high school and during my first year of college, I worked in lots of little black box theatres around town and more often than not I was the electrician/light board op. There were also times when I would stage manage as well as build sets. Basically I would do whatever I needed to in order to get an invitation to the opening night party. Then I became more involved in my college program and did a little of everything. I think wardrobe crew was my least favorite, but other than that I enjoyed what I was doing. I am a big believer in a lib- eral arts education and I think the field of sound is a perfect example of that style of education, which encourages you to xvi preface learn a broad range while you focus on your goal, and gives you a rich palette of knowledge to use in your career path. I hadn’t really found my niche in theatre; I just knew I wanted to work in theatre. Sound was barely a part of theatre back then. I remem- ber seeing The Phantom of the Opera and Les Misérables on Broadway in 1987 and I know those shows were amplified, but in my little world in Texas there was not a lot of sound in theatre. Neither my high school, nor my college, nor my local community theatre, nor my neighborhood avant-garde theatre owned a single wireless microphone. In fact, other than pre-show and some scene change music, I don’t even remember any recorded sound cues in anything I worked on until the last couple of years in college. During my junior year in college we did Sam Shepard’s Mad Dog Blues, which is a really strange musical about people tripping on acid. It was my first experience with sound for the stage. I was told I was going to mix the show and the college rented some equipment from a man who worked in bars and did indus- trials. He had no theatre experience and I had no sound experience. Together we were quite a team. I can’t even imagine what it sounded like now, but I doubt it was very good. I do remember I really enjoyed it and it opened my eyes to a new world in theatre. That year I also started the obligatory college band and bought a four-track recorder. Remember those? Four tracks on a cassette. I started getting more interested in sound, but I hadn’t really figured out that there was a career in it. After college I went to graduate school for Dramaturgy, which is basically a person who studies theatre and helps explain the socio-economic environment that existed in the time of Ibsen’s A Doll’s House and stuff like that. I was into directing and writing and researching theatre, but after my first year I realized it just wasn’t what I wanted to do. The whole time I was in school I was working as a stagehand to earn money, and I realized that I enjoyed being a stagehand more than anything. So I dropped out of school and started a dance/theatre company with some friends and played with my band in bars all over Texas and Arkansas and Oklahoma. Those were the lost years and, man, were they fun. I also worked as a draftsman at an engineering firm, which had preface xvii been another source of income for me since I was 13. At the ripe old age of 13, I had been introduced to AutoCad 1.0. Very few people knew how to use it at the time and I figured it out and worked as a draftsman during the summers. After I dropped out of grad school, I fell back on drafting as a way to make money while I figured out what I was doing. By this time, it was the early 1990s and sound had really taken off in theatre in my area. My good friend from col- lege, Patrick Pummill, was mixing musicals at a local the- atre and was soon to start touring, which would lead him to Broadway. I started following his path as it became clear that there was a career to be had. I found myself working at an avant-garde theatre called The Undermain and I was the sound mixer. My then girlfriend and now wife, Mollie, got me my first job in sound, and she loves to point out the fact that I owe my career to her, so props to Mollie. I loved mixing and I loved that little theatre. I mixed punk rock musicals and crazy plays. The more I worked in sound, the more I under- stood how it brought everything together for me. Unlike any other technical discipline in theatre, sound is organically involved in creating the performance. As a mixer you are part actor, part musician, part stagehand, part director, and part dramaturge and it was a perfect fit for me. Then I moved on to mix at The Dallas Theater Center and I met Curtis Craig, who really opened my eyes and changed my life. The Dallas Theater Center is a very nice regional theatre with a 500-seat theatre and an 800-seat warehouse space. We did some great work there and it was full of cre- ativity. Curtis was a fantastic sound designer and I was so impressed with the work he did on plays. He built great lay- ered soundscapes and at the time we were using minidisc players and some samplers. Can you believe that? Curtis is still a very close friend. He currently teaches at Penn State and anyone who gets to study with him is incredibly lucky. I have hired several of his graduates and they have all been of the highest caliber. While at the Dallas Theater Center I stumbled upon a job posting that changed my life even more. I applied for a posi- tion as a touring sound person on a show called Tap Dogs. I was so young and dumb and I had no clue how unqualified I was for the job. Fortunately for me, though, when I applied