Playing and recording music has been in the forefront of my mind as far back as I can remember. As a child, my best friend and I experimented with recording our voices on my dad's Panasonic cassette recorder. We discovered we could “multitrack” harmonies by recording to one machine while playing back from the other. As soon as I saved enough money from my paper route, I bought my first electric guitar and started forming bands. I loved everything entailed in the band dynamic, but nothing held more excitement for me than entering a recording studio. Achieving a great recording became my holy grail. But the goal remained elusive—for all the excitement and promise at the beginning, the end result was always a let-down. There was too large a gulf between my expectations and reality captured on cassette (yes, it was the 80's).  

 

The outcomes improved over time, yet the studio still seemed something of a mystery. Drum sounds in particular were the great enigma—how on earth did you capture BIG drums? My bandmates and I were never satisfied with the results. Experiments with 4-track cassette recorders were loads of fun but mostly sounded like shit. I fantasized about massive mixing consoles but felt this goal was out of reach.  

 

After college, my obsession became songwriting and making albums with my bands. Our excursions to Portland recording studios started to yield better results. I started acquiring my own gear and honed my chops recording overdubs for our records in my basement. I offered to record my friends' bands for free just to learn. I read everything I could find on the art of recording.  

 

By the end of 2018 I was tired of playing live. I was depressed and aimless in my musical direction. I quit my band and considered walking away from music altogether. My daughter, Kiki, was a freshman at U of O and had recently formed a band with some of her mates. She asked me to record their first album over Christmas break. I jumped at the opportunity. I borrowed equipment from friends, and we spent a few days tracking in my basement. I was learning on the job and making mistakes, but profoundly lifted by the experience. I spent countless hours mixing and asked engineer friends to critique my mixes. The band was happy with the end result and the EP was well received. While mixing I had the epiphany that this was my calling. Recording and production encapsulated everything I loved about the craft without the artistic pressure and anxiety of performing live. As luck would have it, within a few months Kiki's friends were calling me to ask if I'd record their bands.  

 

From that moment on it's been a steady upward and inspiring trajectory of unpacking the mysteries of recorded sound. Endless sonic experiments, replacing barely adequate gear for decent gear then for excellent gear. I remodeled my basement and garage into viable acoustic spaces with a comfortable and relaxed vibe.   

 

It's my goal to make recording a joyful experience. If I take your project, I will be 100% committed to making it sound as good as possible, meeting or exceeding your expectations. Echohill has become a great facility, but I will never charge rates musicians can't afford. I will continue carefully acquiring the right gear to improve results and will always strive for better. It's my ultimate goal to create recordings that compete with any facility/engineer/producer. 

 

Thanks to my desire for perpetual learning, great records are no longer a mystery. Trial and error, frustrations, and successes have slowly given way to a greater understanding of what it takes to achieve good recorded sound. I hope to transfer my knowledge and experience into helping you make the record you have in your head. And I want us all to have a blast doing it!