“‘El Camino’, written by Amos Lee, is one of those songs that sits quietly in the back of my mind, resurfacing during moments of change or uncertainty. When I decided to cover it, I wasn’t interested in recreating the original — I wanted to expand on the emotional terrain that speaks to me. This new cover leans into atmosphere: wide-open pads, subtle rhythmic movement and cacophony. I wanted it to feel like a short drive through a complex landscape — reflective, and a little

Quadrasonic Studios, NYC — 1980 I was 21, a recent economics graduate who had spent more time in rehearsal rooms than in lectures. On weekends, I came to New York to play music with my late friend Keith McKay. One day, I saw an ad for a weekend course in audio engineering, offered by the Guitar Study Center. Why not? I signed up. The class was held at Quadrasonic Studios, just north of Times Square. I walked into the control room that first night, a little anxious but excited

Philadelphia & New York City — Late 1979 My first job out of college didn’t last long—something about “budget cuts” and “restructuring"? What it really meant was that I suddenly had an open calendar, just as summer was hitting its stride. So, I did what any newly unemployed 20-something with a golf-obsessed father would do: I spent my days on manicured fairways. My father had introduced me to golf while I was in diapers, so by this point, I was decent enough to join an end-o

Right Track Recording, NYC — Early 1980s We’d just finished mixing Chuck Mangione’s new album, and the master tape was ready to be...

*Given the recent passing of Chuck, this and this following story are being posted out of chronological order Early 1980's, Right Track Recording, NYC It’s around 2am, and we’ve been working on the same track for hours. The session is dragging—slow, dreamy, hypnotic—and everyone’s running on fumes. Chuck Mangione is in the Studio, silent but alert. We all know the track isn’t right. The groove's not landing. Suddenly, Chuck stops the session. The studio falls completely silen

Philadelphia, Summer 1974 I was 16—long-haired, suburban, and obsessed with two things: sports and music. One summer afternoon, my older...

Welcome to the golden hours of studio life in the 1980s—told from behind the console with artists big and small, speakers blaring, rooms...