Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 144: Preliminary Recording

Entering the recording studio, Renly was immediately struck by the sight before him. Two entire rows of guitars of various models, two bookshelves filled with different drum heads, and a myriad of other instruments, all dazzlingly displayed. But nothing could steal his gaze from the colossal figure directly in front of him—

An audio control board, approximately three meters wide, covered with hundreds, if not thousands, of buttons, enough to make anyone with trypophobia faint. The control board was edged with solid oak, its natural wood color glistening under the soft yellow lights. Two ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts and microphone sponges were casually placed on it, evidence of recent activity.

This was the legendary Neve 8028!

The Sound City has such a powerful allure, attracting countless great singers, especially rock bands, to record here. The reason lies in this Neve 8028 recording console and their outstanding drum recording techniques.

In the present day, with the rapid advancement of digital technology, an amateur singer standing in front of a recording microphone, even if tone-deaf, can have their recordings meticulously corrected frame by frame by the audio engineer using computer technology. The finished product will be flawless. This has led to a surge in idol singers—appearance is paramount, while pitch, tone, and timbre can all be perfected in the studio.

In contrast, truly talented singers with less distinctive looks have fewer opportunities to shine. This is why shows like "The Voice" have become so popular.

However, during the traditional record production era, studios lacked such technology and relied solely on the massive recording consoles. Recording sessions were repeated over and over, with each flaw in the sound meticulously identified and corrected by the singer through practice and experience. The Neve 8028 excelled at this, delivering the most essential, original, and detailed sound quality, fully capturing the essence of the singer. This is the greatest charm of the Sound City.

In the contemporary digital era, a singer might need only an hour, or even half an hour, to complete the recording of a song, leaving the rest to computer technology. But in the traditional era, recording a single song could take repeated sessions, possibly a week, to perfect a three-minute track.

Renly's astonished and delighted expression was almost palpable, immediately caught by the middle-aged man walking towards him. Pointing to the control board, the man said, "Isn't she a beauty?"

Renly nodded vigorously, "Absolutely. I feel like asking her out on a date right now. Do you think I have a chance?"

The middle-aged man chuckled, "No problem. Let's see what kind of spark you two can create." Turning back, he politely introduced himself, "Herbert Jones. You must be Renly. Ready to record something exciting?"

Renly rubbed his palms together, "Can't wait." Then he paused, "But before we start recording, could I have a hot milk?"

"Haha, you sound just like Kurt Cobain, except he asked for alcohol," Herbert laughed heartily. "Young man, this isn't Century City. You need to find what you want yourself, even if it's just a cigarette butt."

Andy walked over and asked, "Renly, are you okay?"

Renly nodded, "I just need a hot milk." Milk could help calm his stomach a bit, aiding in sobering up.

Andy took a deep breath and looked around, "God, you really need to hire an assistant." Seeing Renly's surprised expression, as if it was a wild idea, Andy realized he was a bit ahead of himself and shook his head, "I'll get the hot milk. You start working." With that, Andy left the studio.

"Kurt Cobain-like, you know this studio only records physical singles, not digital tracks, right?" Herbert sat down at the control board, lighting a cigarette. "Andy mentioned you're recording two singles. I was about to tell him before we were interrupted."

Kurt Cobain-like...

Renly had no words but focused on the important matter, "I know now." Looking at the recording equipment, Renly wasn't surprised.

Renly had limited knowledge of the music history from his past life, but he remembered the Sound City gradually declining and eventually shutting down, though he wasn't sure of the exact year.

The reason was obvious—it couldn't record digital tracks.

In the 21st century, album sales in the U.S. had been declining, and by around 2013, single sales had begun to surpass albums. Artists shifted their focus from albums to singles. Digital tracks played an irreplaceable role. So, a studio that couldn't record digital tracks was inevitably doomed.

"So you're like Christopher Nolan?" Renly joked. Nolan insisted on shooting films using traditional film stock, a practice criticized by many in Hollywood, yet he consistently produced great work and didn't mind the controversy.

Herbert looked puzzled, "What?"

Clearly, he didn't get Renly's joke. Renly rubbed his nose and smiled, "Never mind. I mean, physical singles are fine. With today's digital technology, converting CDs to digital tracks is easy."

Just troublesome. If everyone made albums this way—first recording a physical version, then converting it to digital—it would be a hassle and increase costs. Record companies would revolt. Fortunately, Renly was only recording two singles, so it wasn't too complicated.

"Good." Herbert took a deep drag on his cigarette. "I haven't heard the master tape. Can you play it live, or did you bring the tape?"

"I can play the original track." Renly moved to the guitar rack, carefully selecting a guitar. Each guitar's tone differed slightly, and everyone had their preferences. A true professional would be particular.

Herbert wasn't in a hurry, watching Renly test the sound. After trying four guitars, Renly chose an acoustic guitar. "Should I go straight to the recording room?"

Renly's expertise was evident; he knew his style, preferences, and habits well but was a recording studio novice. Such independent musicians were rare, much like the Sound City itself. "Yes, go straight in. Leave the rest to me."

Renly pushed open the glass door, bathed in warm yellow light. The spacious room was about half the size of a basketball court, with cables strewn all over and some scattered sheet music. A microphone stand was in the center, and the music stand was piled with scores.

"The high stool is over there. You can move it over." Herbert's voice came through the speaker. "Those scores are David's. Just toss them aside. They remember their own new songs."

Renly glanced at the scores, then raised his voice to ask, "Is this for the Foo Fighter's new album?" That explained why David and the others were here earlier.

But Herbert didn't respond. He pointed to his ear, then to the microphone next to the music stand. Renly realized he needed to repeat his question into the mic. Herbert then heard him, "Yes, they've been recording for over a month and have only completed three tracks. Slow progress." He added with a touch of sarcasm, "Are you ready to start?"

Renly moved the chair to the microphone, adjusted the height, and sat down to tune the guitar. Soon he was ready. He looked around and saw an earpiece hanging on the music stand. He pointed to it and asked Herbert if he needed to wear it. Herbert shook his head, making Renly feel relieved—he always thought from movies that wearing earpieces was mandatory.

He adjusted his posture and began plucking the guitar strings, starting with "Cleopatra." The lively melody sounded somewhat thin without any accompaniment, but the beautiful tune filled the recording room, every note feeling alive and present.

After finishing one song, Renly didn't pause and moved on to play "Ophelia." Compared to the keyboard version, the guitar version was too bright, missing the melancholy and coolness hidden in the keyboard sound. Without the drum beats, the melody also seemed a bit monotonous and lacked richness.

Despite this, Renly enjoyed it, recalling the pure joy and simple emotion of performing on the street last night. It was a fresh discovery; he had never performed on the street before and found the experience purely enjoyable.

After playing both songs, Herbert didn't speak immediately. He thought seriously, "The first song... would it sound better with an electric guitar? The tone lacks brightness but is richer, and adding some drum beats would make the emotional layers more complex."

"I considered that. For the chorus, can we switch to an electronic keyboard, slow down the rhythm, and replace the guitar's monotony with the keyboard's richness? Also, if the guitar could be supplemented with a bit of bass to control the rhythm, it would sound great. Or do you think a bass guitar would suffice?"

Both songs were originally composed without any arrangement, but Renly had thought about the arrangement. Now that he was in the studio, it was time to implement his ideas.