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RECORDING
Analog recording tries to survive a digital world
By Bob Gendron
Special to the Tribune
Published January 16, 2005
Respected for his fervent independence and knack for capturing raw sounds, Steve Albini has made albums for hundreds of cutting-edge rock artists, including Nirvana and The Pixies. But the Chicago recording engineer and Electrical Audio studio owner has never used digital technology to do the job. Although modern digital-based methods are cheaper, faster and more convenient, traditionalists such as Albini swear their allegiance to analog tape, prized for its warm, natural presence and archival superiority.
Last Monday, purist producers, engineers and artists were dealt a blow when Quantegy Inc., the last remaining manufacturer in the U.S. of 2-inch professional analog recording tape, filed for bankruptcy protection. Reactions to the Alabama-based company's shutdown varied from dismay to cautious optimism, though few seem surprised.
"We all knew it was coming, but the story is still dramatic," says live recording engineer and Metro Mobile Recording owner Timothy Powell. "On a certain level, it signals the end of analog recording."
Powell says he hasn't used analog machines to record anything in years, yet he remains a fan of the sound.
`Something magical'
"With the advent of digital, analog as the industry standard became somewhat obsolete from a usage but not a sonic standpoint," he says. "Even though it's not an accurate medium, there's something magical about it. Imagine digital representing a news photographer taking a picture of someone's face, warts and all. In comparison, analog is akin to a colorized fashion picture -- it has a certain sheen, a smoothness."
You don't need to be an audiophile to identify with Powell's account. Listen to any music recorded between the late '40s and mid-'80s, and it was likely made on analog tape. When the music industry ballooned in the '60s and '70s, manufacturers such as Quantegy expanded capacity. Labels afforded artists giant budgets that allowed groups to guiltlessly chew through hundreds of reels of tape while making an album. (Today, records made with tape typically consume five to six reels.)
But just as digital files such as MP3 permanently changed how music is packaged, bought and sold, digital altered the recording-industry landscape. By the mid-'90s, it was the norm. As engineers and studios opted for digital, demand for analog tape plummeted until Quantegy was the last manufacturer, making products in a facility that became cost-inefficient.
Powell, who also runs an analog-tape restoration business, is cognizant of digital's advantages. A reel-to-reel that holds 16 minutes of recording typically costs around $150. For nearly the same price, anybody can buy a computer hard-drive that stores 30 hours of music. Powell notes most contemporary artists -- even local bar bands -- want at least 30 separate audio channels on which they can record instruments, vocals and effects. Two-inch analog tape offers up to 24 tracks. To obtain the often-desired 48, two machines need to be synchronized, an expensive endeavor.
In the digital recording domain, limitations are determined only by gigabyte sizes. Artists and hobbyists alike can record on a hard drive, edit on a computer and store material on optical discs. Conversely, analog methods call for tape at every turn, from original recordings to backup copies going on reel-to-reels. Digital also makes retrieval a cinch by permitting users access to a given song in seconds; analog requires the fast forwarding or reversing of a tape. And while performing editing tasks on digital recordings boils down to a few mouse clicks and keyboard strokes, analog can involve complicated splicing techniques.
As someone more interested in creating the desired sound than worrying about what medium the music is stored on, Powell thinks digital works fine. He maintains that the crucial decisions reside in the kind of microphones, pre-amps and equalizers employed in the process. "The days of gorgeous studios outfitted with analog machines are fading. Engineers are becoming guys with Pro Tools that look at computers all day."
Question of time
But not everyone agrees with Powell. Albini would rather perish than utilize Pro Tools, a popular software program that allows users to record, edit and mix music. He has staked his livelihood on such principles, employing six people at a busy studio that constantly requires analog goods. But like Powell, Albini knew that Quantegy's fall wasn't a question of if, but when.
"We've been expecting the news for about a year," Albini says. "The problem with Quantegy is that the plant is grossly oversized for what's now a boutique market. I can't imagine something on that scale ever being profitable again."
While Albini has never supported compact discs -- he famously railed against the format when albums by his first band, Big Black, were released on CD -- his primary argument for sticking to analog isn't sound quality, but consistency and stability.
"Analog was how I learned, and I have found no reason to change. I have deep-seated reservations about digital methods. So many appear and disappear over time. Analog has remained unchanged since the '30s. No analog recording ever made is unplayable today -- and sometimes they can be played back with greater fidelity than when they were originally made.
"Digital doesn't allow for a permanent master. The storage media changes and becomes inevitably obsolescent, frozen in time with that day's technology. As someone who's paid to make recordings, I'd be irresponsible to make something that wasn't permanent and playable in the future."
In anticipation of what's already become a scarcity, Albini has been stockpiling analog supplies for some time. He claims he possesses enough tape to last a year. If at that point manufacturing hasn't resumed, he'll begin looking to import from Asia, although no one knows for certain if the country's products are suitable for studio recording or of acceptable quality. But Albini isn't worried that he'll have to resort to those lengths. He's convinced that another source -- whether it's a rejuvenated Quantegy or another firm -- will surface by the end of 2005.
"People like me are not about to change."
Future demand?
Whether Quantegy can proportionally realign itself to meet today's decreased consumer needs remains debatable. But the corporation, spun off by Ampex in 1995, has several pluses on its side. Not only does the demand for its product exist, but supporters and possible investors from all over the globe have been telephoning company president and chief executive officer Richard Lindenmuth, who claims that an infusion of $10 million is required to restore operations. Quantegy's tape formulations have existed since the mid-'40s. Lindenmuth thinks that anyone who tries to replicate them would be forced to spend millions to get it right.
"I believe we can come back up in a much smaller way and be successful," he says. "There are enough people who love analog that will support it and ensure that it stays alive forever."
A restructured Quantegy would employ far fewer than the 200 workers it had before it shut its doors. Meanwhile, Lindenmuth has been inundated by requests from individuals who have never previously purchased tape and who suddenly want all he has to offer. He says many are trying to scalp reels for up to $500 on the Web.
Brian Deck isn't buying. The Engine Music Studios recording engineer/producer and co-owner opines that the crisis is overblown, and says those lamenting the death of high fidelity are overreacting. To him, what's shocking is that Quantegy mismanaged a monopoly and failed to downsize years ago.
Like Albini, Deck is confident that tapes will be made again. He has already read about an existing media company purportedly purchasing old tapemaking equipment. Yet as someone who has watched digital evolve to the point that he considers it better than analog when used correctly, Deck is conscious of sentimental trappings.
"What people find charming and believe to be the best aspect of analog is simply an artifact of the medium," Deck says. "Analog isn't linear; it has distortion and compression built into it. Our love of it is a matter of our conditioning and perspective, which leads us to believe analog is better than digital. So what's good is more a matter of what we think we like."
Besides, to Deck, music is what truly matters, and no medium can write a song.
"The controversy and hoopla are misplaced," he says. "There are much bigger problems going on in the music industry. People should just focus on making good recordings."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RECORDING
Analog recording tries to survive a digital world
By Bob Gendron
Special to the Tribune
Published January 16, 2005
Respected for his fervent independence and knack for capturing raw sounds, Steve Albini has made albums for hundreds of cutting-edge rock artists, including Nirvana and The Pixies. But the Chicago recording engineer and Electrical Audio studio owner has never used digital technology to do the job. Although modern digital-based methods are cheaper, faster and more convenient, traditionalists such as Albini swear their allegiance to analog tape, prized for its warm, natural presence and archival superiority.
Last Monday, purist producers, engineers and artists were dealt a blow when Quantegy Inc., the last remaining manufacturer in the U.S. of 2-inch professional analog recording tape, filed for bankruptcy protection. Reactions to the Alabama-based company's shutdown varied from dismay to cautious optimism, though few seem surprised.
"We all knew it was coming, but the story is still dramatic," says live recording engineer and Metro Mobile Recording owner Timothy Powell. "On a certain level, it signals the end of analog recording."
Powell says he hasn't used analog machines to record anything in years, yet he remains a fan of the sound.
`Something magical'
"With the advent of digital, analog as the industry standard became somewhat obsolete from a usage but not a sonic standpoint," he says. "Even though it's not an accurate medium, there's something magical about it. Imagine digital representing a news photographer taking a picture of someone's face, warts and all. In comparison, analog is akin to a colorized fashion picture -- it has a certain sheen, a smoothness."
You don't need to be an audiophile to identify with Powell's account. Listen to any music recorded between the late '40s and mid-'80s, and it was likely made on analog tape. When the music industry ballooned in the '60s and '70s, manufacturers such as Quantegy expanded capacity. Labels afforded artists giant budgets that allowed groups to guiltlessly chew through hundreds of reels of tape while making an album. (Today, records made with tape typically consume five to six reels.)
But just as digital files such as MP3 permanently changed how music is packaged, bought and sold, digital altered the recording-industry landscape. By the mid-'90s, it was the norm. As engineers and studios opted for digital, demand for analog tape plummeted until Quantegy was the last manufacturer, making products in a facility that became cost-inefficient.
Powell, who also runs an analog-tape restoration business, is cognizant of digital's advantages. A reel-to-reel that holds 16 minutes of recording typically costs around $150. For nearly the same price, anybody can buy a computer hard-drive that stores 30 hours of music. Powell notes most contemporary artists -- even local bar bands -- want at least 30 separate audio channels on which they can record instruments, vocals and effects. Two-inch analog tape offers up to 24 tracks. To obtain the often-desired 48, two machines need to be synchronized, an expensive endeavor.
In the digital recording domain, limitations are determined only by gigabyte sizes. Artists and hobbyists alike can record on a hard drive, edit on a computer and store material on optical discs. Conversely, analog methods call for tape at every turn, from original recordings to backup copies going on reel-to-reels. Digital also makes retrieval a cinch by permitting users access to a given song in seconds; analog requires the fast forwarding or reversing of a tape. And while performing editing tasks on digital recordings boils down to a few mouse clicks and keyboard strokes, analog can involve complicated splicing techniques.
As someone more interested in creating the desired sound than worrying about what medium the music is stored on, Powell thinks digital works fine. He maintains that the crucial decisions reside in the kind of microphones, pre-amps and equalizers employed in the process. "The days of gorgeous studios outfitted with analog machines are fading. Engineers are becoming guys with Pro Tools that look at computers all day."
Question of time
But not everyone agrees with Powell. Albini would rather perish than utilize Pro Tools, a popular software program that allows users to record, edit and mix music. He has staked his livelihood on such principles, employing six people at a busy studio that constantly requires analog goods. But like Powell, Albini knew that Quantegy's fall wasn't a question of if, but when.
"We've been expecting the news for about a year," Albini says. "The problem with Quantegy is that the plant is grossly oversized for what's now a boutique market. I can't imagine something on that scale ever being profitable again."
While Albini has never supported compact discs -- he famously railed against the format when albums by his first band, Big Black, were released on CD -- his primary argument for sticking to analog isn't sound quality, but consistency and stability.
"Analog was how I learned, and I have found no reason to change. I have deep-seated reservations about digital methods. So many appear and disappear over time. Analog has remained unchanged since the '30s. No analog recording ever made is unplayable today -- and sometimes they can be played back with greater fidelity than when they were originally made.
"Digital doesn't allow for a permanent master. The storage media changes and becomes inevitably obsolescent, frozen in time with that day's technology. As someone who's paid to make recordings, I'd be irresponsible to make something that wasn't permanent and playable in the future."
In anticipation of what's already become a scarcity, Albini has been stockpiling analog supplies for some time. He claims he possesses enough tape to last a year. If at that point manufacturing hasn't resumed, he'll begin looking to import from Asia, although no one knows for certain if the country's products are suitable for studio recording or of acceptable quality. But Albini isn't worried that he'll have to resort to those lengths. He's convinced that another source -- whether it's a rejuvenated Quantegy or another firm -- will surface by the end of 2005.
"People like me are not about to change."
Future demand?
Whether Quantegy can proportionally realign itself to meet today's decreased consumer needs remains debatable. But the corporation, spun off by Ampex in 1995, has several pluses on its side. Not only does the demand for its product exist, but supporters and possible investors from all over the globe have been telephoning company president and chief executive officer Richard Lindenmuth, who claims that an infusion of $10 million is required to restore operations. Quantegy's tape formulations have existed since the mid-'40s. Lindenmuth thinks that anyone who tries to replicate them would be forced to spend millions to get it right.
"I believe we can come back up in a much smaller way and be successful," he says. "There are enough people who love analog that will support it and ensure that it stays alive forever."
A restructured Quantegy would employ far fewer than the 200 workers it had before it shut its doors. Meanwhile, Lindenmuth has been inundated by requests from individuals who have never previously purchased tape and who suddenly want all he has to offer. He says many are trying to scalp reels for up to $500 on the Web.
Brian Deck isn't buying. The Engine Music Studios recording engineer/producer and co-owner opines that the crisis is overblown, and says those lamenting the death of high fidelity are overreacting. To him, what's shocking is that Quantegy mismanaged a monopoly and failed to downsize years ago.
Like Albini, Deck is confident that tapes will be made again. He has already read about an existing media company purportedly purchasing old tapemaking equipment. Yet as someone who has watched digital evolve to the point that he considers it better than analog when used correctly, Deck is conscious of sentimental trappings.
"What people find charming and believe to be the best aspect of analog is simply an artifact of the medium," Deck says. "Analog isn't linear; it has distortion and compression built into it. Our love of it is a matter of our conditioning and perspective, which leads us to believe analog is better than digital. So what's good is more a matter of what we think we like."
Besides, to Deck, music is what truly matters, and no medium can write a song.
"The controversy and hoopla are misplaced," he says. "There are much bigger problems going on in the music industry. People should just focus on making good recordings."
