My First Recording Studio
They’d either got really good at making earplugs or were secretly planning my demise.
I set up my first commercial studio when I had just turned 20, in two rooms upstairs in an end-of-terrace house, my parents to be exact. Much to their, and my two siblings’, delight.
As if they hadn’t had enough of my sh*te drumming to the same rock band every f**king evening after school. They now had to listen to other, equally as inept musicians try to bash through Smells Like Teen Spirit (it did) on equipment that literally fell off the back of a lorry, at least one could assume it had, from the frankly shambolic state of disrepair it was in.
As if random musicians coming and going all hours of the day and night weren’t enough. Imagine having a hard week at work and being woken up at 10 am on a Sunday morning, in your own f**kin’ house, by local metallers Ruin literally screaming “F**k Da Trend” over a rapid 16th note double kick pattern thundering through the house, that even the floating floor couldn’t contain!
And yet, no one complained … not to me, anyway. They’d either got really good at making earplugs or, more likely, they were secretly planning my demise. Actually, now I think about it, they were all extremely helpful when I was house hunting.