The daunting task of mixing raw files into balanced audio presentations has begun, and I could not be more lost. Not only is every track of mine clunky and unpolished, but the peaks all redline and the softs are downright flimsy.
There is way too much to learn in these brief months. Curses.
I much prefer to accomplish on my own strength, and it takes me a while to humble myself and ask for assistance. When I finally reach out to a fellow human being for help, I am often stunned by the kindness that is extended.
An example: Jan Fischer, a faithful reader of this blog and a stellar musician, offered to take a look at a track, make some fixes, and describe what he did to achieve a good mix. When I expressed gratitude for his willingness to devote time and talent to the project, he responded, "That's what friends are for."
Another example: I called Nick Akin today, a budding southern gospel musician and recordist for whom I have completed some graphic design projects, to inquire if he offers mixing lessons. Though he does not teach for hire, he invited me to his studio so I can watch and learn as his band hones their latest songs. He spent a half hour on the phone imparting tips and tricks for massaging a recording to aural harmony, all while spouting encouragements like, "Just keep at it, I know your stuff is going to sound awesome." He's never heard me play a note, but I somehow still felt fuzzy and warm.
I am struck today by the generosity of these friends, by the many who dedicate time to reading my daily ramblings, and to the countless who have taken a moment to drop an encouraging line. You are all a marvelous inspiration to a guy who can be stingy with and self-consumed during all available free time. Thank you for reminding me the importance and beauty of generosity.
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