Just over Chelsea way in Manhattan, is a man who takes mixing very, very seriously.
The discography of Chuck Zwicky is deep and diverse, stacked with hitmakers that include The Rembrandts, Reggie Watts, Soul Asylum, Prince and Information Society, along with plenty of new blood. Visit his sun-soaked mixing HQ, and you’ll see he takes his own unique approach to mixing, evident from the gear he selects and the plugins he personally designs.
The results he achieves speak for themselves (and you’ll find plenty of examples below), but its the way this mixmaster goes about his craft that increases the inspiration. Equal parts audio artist and scientist, Zwicky is more than happy to tune you into his techniques.
Mixer Name: Chuck Zwicky
Location Chelsea, located on a small island off the coast of the United States called Manhattan, New York, NY, USA, Earth.
Mix Philosophy: My approach to mixing is that I try to bring out what the song is thinking, if you will, to find the essence of what it is, and what it’s trying to communicate.
The first time I push up the faders I imagine what this song is going to feel like once it’s mixed. My job as a mixer is to translate that feeling into workable sounds and define the relationships between those sounds – creating the context in which each element has a purpose – and to use these individual elements to create a living, breathing entity and introduce it to the listener.
I’ve learned some valuable lessons about mixing in my career, two of which can be summed up as: “Apathy is Contagious” and “The Buck Stops Here”.
Here’s how I got there: Years ago I had stopped by a producer’s studio as he was cutting a record with a “big name” engineer, but they happened to be out to lunch. The assistant was there and I asked him how the engineer liked the room. He told me: “The first thing he said when he walked in was – ‘you can’t cut drums in here.’”
We were both a bit mystified as we particularly liked that room for drums..! Several months later I was hired to mix that record, and had long since forgotten about that conversation. I pushed up the faders and my first thought was, “I can’t mix this, these drum sounds are terrible”. Suddenly I remembered what the “big name” engineer had said… and that’s the moment I realized that apathy is contagious, and that the buck stops here.
Sometimes even today I’ll get a song to mix and think “Wow those sounds are terrible”, or “those performances are really lacking”. Who knows why, maybe there were unseen obstacles, maybe someone just didn’t care anymore. If I sense that this is affecting my attitude, I immediately remember that “apathy is contagious”, and “the buck stops here”.
In other words, no matter what I’ve been handed, if I don’t make this song the most fun/compelling/lovable/kick-ass/cool thing, the end listener certainly won’t. This realization then brings me full circle to the process I mentioned earlier about finding the intent of the song and the performances and providing them the context in which they all shine.
Clients/Credits: Prince, Soul Asylum, Reggie Watts, Information Society, Delirious?, Julianne Moore/The Kills, The Jonas Brothers, Rick Moranis, The Drowning Pool, Boots Riley.
One of the more unusual projects I am currently mixing is a set of long form pieces by Jon Gibson, who is a founding member of the Philip Glass Ensemble, and has performed in: the premier of “In C” by Terry Riley; “Drumming” by Steve Reich; as well as Reich’s 1967 composition “Reed Phase”, written especially for him.
He uncovered some multitracks of four pieces he recorded in 1980 and 1981 and I am honored to be mixing them now. These tapes are like a time-capsule of the late 1970s New York Minimalist movement: Dense, claustrophobic, and yet so open. Sculptural in composition and texture, they reveal an entirely different way of seeing music, and are possibly more effective today in their stark contrast than they would have been had they been released 34 years ago.
Key Personnel : Kate-O the studio cat, who often assists in gear mods…
Mix Room Hunters: When I came to New York in 2001 the music business was really changing. Labels were extending their payment schedules, some as long as 180 days, and budgets were shrinking. I knew that if I was going to survive these changes I was going to need to have a setup of my own. I lucked into a beautiful room, prewar with 18” thick plaster and lath walls, an incredibly symmetrical layout and nearly acoustically perfect dimensions. I had already amassed a very large collection of outboard gear, more than a lot of studios where I’d mixed. It was time to set up and get to work.
Sound/Design: The most important piece of gear in a mix room is the room itself. My design goal is to make the room as neutral as possible acoustically, as flexible as possible in terms of gear, and maintain a comfortable, inviting and interesting vibe. This is a place where I curate an artist’s dreams.
My setup is a hybrid incorporating lots of analog gear as channel and bus inserts in the DAW. The converters I use do not impart a sound of their own, so the sonic signature of each piece of outboard gear is perfectly preserved. I’ve run several experiments on my system to test the signal degradation after 60 generations round trip through my converters and it’s quite impressive how good it still sounds after all those conversions. These results are available on my website.
Choice Pieces: It’s hard to single anything out, they’re all pieces of a very beautiful puzzle, from my 1967 Blue Stripe (Universal Audio’s first solid state compressor) to my many custom pieces, everything contributes to the end result.
I went to school for electrical engineering so most of the gear in my racks has been either designed or at least modified by me, born out of some necessity. A good example is my stereo bus. I spent the first half of my career mixing on SSL and to a lesser extent Neve, consoles. I loved the flexibility and the sound I could get from them, and one of the issues I noticed early on with mixing in digital environment is that there is no “ceiling”, especially in a floating-point DAW like Logic, where you have over 1500dB of dynamic range, so I built a “stereo bus” around a pair of Class-A Neve Line amps based on the BA-283 circuit but with UTC and Sowter transformers and calibrated them so that they will actually clip about 0.3dB below the level at which my converters will clip. As a result, the stereo bus responds like a console, you can hear it when you start to push it a bit, but the converters themselves will never clip.
Of special note, I suppose, are my reverbs. There are three that I tend to use most of all, and they’re all from the same era: A 1978 Lexicon 224, a 1979 Ursa Major Space Station, and a 1981 Sony DRE2000. At that time the people who worked on these were inventing the form, experimenting in a new frontier of sound. Each of these pieces are so different from the others. I call them “The Wild, The Beautiful, and “The Damned.”