WHAT REALLY GOES ON in the recording studio? Is it all just pushing buttons? Do producers get to meet supermodels? Do they get to push their buttons? Oh, we digress. But, yeah, just how much do sex and drink and drugs go hand in hand with rock ’n’ roll? We asked Sean Slade, one of the founders of the legendary Fort Apache Studio in Cambridge, where, with partner Paul Kolderie, he produced such hits as Radiohead’s debut album Pablo Honey, Hole’s Live Through This, and the Mighty Mighty Bosstones’ Let’s Face It. Nowadays, he can be found more often at Q Division working with S.T.U.N., an LA band making its debut recording for Warner Bros. Here, Slade reminisces about the business and answers some pressing questions from his long-time pal, Kathy Rabin, a S@n contributor who would chuck her Harvard law degree in a New York minute to sing back-up for a living.

What does a record producer actually do? Well, if he’s any good at it, not much.

What do you mean? I think it works best when the record producer understands how to get a song on tape and then steps out of the way. You want to let the band and musicians show up on tape the way they are — as opposed to some kind of " auteur, " Phil Spector thing where you shape the sound yourself. One of my favorite quotes is from Jerry Wexler, a great producer, who said, " Sometimes the guy who goes out and gets the coffee is the producer of the record. "

Okay, what does that mean? Sometimes the musicians are sitting around feeling enervated and not that into it, and they send a guy out for coffee, and he brings the coffee back, and they drink the coffee, and then they play a great take. So the coffee guy " produced " that sound.

That’s pretty funny, but tell us what you really do. Ideally, the record producer is responsible for getting the music on tape, on time, on budget, and on drugs.

I like that. Is that your quote or someone else’s? I stole it. But seriously, you are being paid to make sure that the product gets finished within its allotted time, which, believe me, is sometimes a Herculean struggle.

You have to really like the music and want to get it out there to people. It’s as though you’re the " translator " standing there between the musicians who play and the CD that people ultimately hear, and it’s your job to capture and communicate the excitement and emotions of the songs.

Have you ever had to work with temperamental artists? Yes.

Can you name names? No.

Okay, without naming names, what sort of things have you had to deal with? Musicians coming into the control room, sitting down on the couch, and then breaking down into uncontrollable weeping.

How do you deal with a situation like that? Be sympathetic and realize that they are having a natural human reaction. No matter whether they are multi-platinum or just local guys starting out, the recording studio is a place of great stress. You’re paying hundreds of dollars an hour, and the clock is ticking away. Making a record is not natural, it’s very contrived, but you’re trying your best to pretend that that’s not the case. And so by hook or by crook, you try to create an atmosphere where you’re like kids in a sandbox or the garage, and you’re just doing it for the sheer fun of it. Because if you do play for the sheer fun of it and enjoy it, and you get that on tape, then that’s what you are shooting for. In a sense, you are trying to create the illusion of leisure.

And do drugs and alcohol play a role in that? Sometimes yes and sometimes no. You have to walk a fine line. During one of the very first sessions I did at Fort Apache Studios in Cambridge, I stopped recording because the band was just too drunk to play. I mean, they were so drunk, they were falling down. So I walked out into the room and I said, " Guys, you’re too drunk to play, " and they said, " Yeah. " So we packed up and went home.

On the other hand, when I worked with a band from San Francisco, we set up and they were playing and we just couldn’t get a decent take, and this went on for maybe two days, and we just weren’t getting anything. I finally said, " Guys, what’s happening here? When you get together to rehearse or play, what do you do? " And they said, " Well, we drink Jägermeister. " And I said, " Okay, somebody go get some Jägermeister. " So they got a bottle of Jägermeister, and they sat there and each of them did a couple of shots of Jägermeister, and we went back in the studio and we cut five basic tracks in an hour.

I remember that you were the first person I knew who was into punk rock. Tell me what was great about punk and new wave? When I was a kid in high school, I really loved rock music, but I never thought I could be a musician because I thought you had to have a certain amount of technique. But then the Dictators and then the Ramones came along, and all they basically did was play barre chords and plug into a really loud amplifier. I mean, they had no technique at all — and that was terrific. It really rocked. It lowered the threshold technique-wise, but in a really positive way. You didn’t have to be a virtuoso. In fact, who the fuck wants a virtuoso in rock and roll? Look at what Elvis and Chuck Berry were doing. They weren’t virtuosos.

I know that initially you were a performer. After college you had a series of bands, one of which was the Sex Execs. As you may recall, I sang back-up vocals on the Sex Execs’ album. I think I just sang the words " sex train " over and over for the record named, appropriately enough, " Sex Train. " When are you going to hire me to sing back-up on another record . . .? Oh, I’m sorry. This interview is supposed to be about you. How did you make the leap from performing to producing? During the Sex Execs era, we had a four-track, and we spent a lot of time recording. And as much as I enjoyed playing rock and roll, the studio was just much more fun. We started off recording a lot of local bands, and things just took off from there.

What was your first hit record? " Creep " by Radiohead.

How did you get involved with that project? Paul and I had recently recorded a band called Clockhammer, and we did the whole thing in just 10 days, and it came out great. Our manager was friends with this guy at EMI and gave him that record. So when we went over to England in 1992 to meet people, we popped into this guy’s office, and he had listened to the Clockhammer record and liked the big rock sound of it. He told us about a big guitar band and said they were having trouble getting their sound on tape. So we listened to a couple of songs and said they were great, and the rest is history.

And " Creep " was a big hit? It was a worldwide hit single in ’93. It actually broke out in Israel and also became a hit in the Philippines. It was amazing.

So punk rock sort of went away at the beginning of the ’80s and came back in the form of grunge? Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. Sonic Youth has a video of their tour with Nirvana in Europe called 1991: The Year Punk Broke. And I thought, that’s exactly right. It took 15 years for punk to finally become mainstream.

So how did having a hit record affect you? Well, it made us officially " hot. " I remember going to LA with Paul when it was getting played like every 10 minutes on the LA rock station. We went to a meeting at Epic records in their big industrial corporate complex. We were just sitting on the couch, and everyone was staring at us like, " You had a hit. How did you do it? " One part of me thought, " This is really cool, " and the other part of me thought, " This is bizarre. "

Did you feel like a fraud? No, not at all — it was an interesting glimpse into corporate culture. I mean, you work at a record company and you want hits, but you don’t necessarily know how to go about that, and neither does a record producer. All you can do is do music that you care about, and then if you’re lucky and you get a hit, then everyone thinks you’re Orson Welles, like you have some kind of magic wand or something

What followed " Creep " ? Courtney.

Speaking of Courtney, how did you live through Live Through This? Actually, it was a lot of fun, although it was kind of like a combat experience.

In what way? Well, like when you’re sharing a foxhole with somebody, you really get to know that person in a unique way.

Can you elaborate on that? No.

Hole’s record was a huge hit, wasn’t it? Yeah. I never really thought that that record would do well because of Kurt’s suicide, but somehow the music got through. And it was benefited by the fact that grunge was the MTV currency of the time. Strangely enough, it was identical to the music that we were doing in the ’80s, but somehow it caught on.

Who else did you record? Oh, numerous bands. We did Tracy Bonham. We mixed Radiohead’s second album, which got us a lot of mix work. And we recorded the Bosstones, which was great.

Are you still " hot " ? Not really. It was depressing and disappointing to me, but when I started getting issues of Entertainment Weekly and Rolling Stone saying [that] " electronica and samples and loops are the new rock, " I thought, hey, it was great while it lasted.

So after you become " not hot " — what do you do? Well, you just go back to making records that you want to make — which is fine.

What do you have to say to all the musicians out there playing, trying to get heard, trying to get a record contract? Do you have any advice? Don’t worry about the record contract. Just go out and play gigs. Get people to like you. This whole idea of getting your big break and getting discovered, it’s a load of shit. If you really care about writing songs and playing in front of people, then your big break will come, but in a way that you never expected. But if you think you’re going to sit in your bedroom and record your songs and have some producer say you’re a genius and then spend money to promote you, it just doesn’t happen that way. Just play music for the sheer joy of it, and success will either follow or not. But if you’re playing music to have a career and make a lot of money, I suggest you do something else.

As a record producer, do you get to hang out with supermodels? I got to hang out with Kate Moss because Paul and I made a record with Spacehog, and I must say, she’s a delightful person and a lot of fun to be with.

Is there anything else that I haven’t asked you about that you want to say? No.

I have one final question. Do you regret ditching me for that bimbo-slut Aileen when we were in college? Yeah. Give it a rest already.

PHOTO BY GEOFFREY KULA

Issue Date: May 21-June 4, 2002