FOH at Large

It’s been said that an audio technician’s job is long hours of boredom and mundane work followed by short periods of frantic maneuvering. It’s also been said that “sh*t happens,” and when that does occur, we have those small bursts of frenetic behavior as we try to stave off a descent into chaos and disorder. We stand as guardians at the gates of hell as we do our best not to allow the doors to swing open and release the multitudes of demons and devilish imps that lay waiting on the other side. We are vigilant on our watch, being aware that even the smallest opening is enough space to allow the devil to escape and unleash a reign of terror down upon our show.

I received an email from a reader asking me to write an article about giving a bid for festivals and club gigs. Other than the few glowing comments he used to flatter me into doing this piece, his letter included other points such as: “How much detail is required on the gear we’re supplying? Sometimes it feels like I’m giving too much information, and in other cases, too little. What format should the quote be in? What should my profit margin be? How should I account for and cost-in the ‘suck fee’ — contingencies for covering things that inevitably change after arriving at the venue, like having the generator moved at the last moment and needing to pull 300 feet of 4/0 feeder cable!”

Back in the early 1980s, I was attempting to make a living in Manhattan playing guitar and I got hooked up with an R&B band by the name of Henderson and Whitfield. Their producer, Jack Levi, thought the group needed to add a “rock” flavor to their dance beats, and that’s how I ended up as the only white Jewish guy in the band. There was never an awkward moment, and as long as I was able to hang with the music and the musicians, then religion and color had no play in the situation. Also, my theological affiliation is more cultural than it is religious and, back in the day, I was young, ambitious and just thrilled to be playing with any good act with a record deal.

There are very few days that we work less than a ten-hour day, and that’s on a good day. From load-in to load-out, we’re lucky if the clock stops ticking at the ten-hour mark, and even if it does, we still have to take into account all the time spent just traveling from one place to the other. Time is money and as I see it, we manage to spend more time than the money we make. I’m not complaining. I’m just stating a fact, because by the time this piece is published, we may all be lying at the bottom of the fiscal cliff clutching our empty wallets due to expired tax cuts.

In regard to audio, it’s great to be on a concert tour as a band’s engineer, where the gig is all about the music. Monitors or front of house, small or large venues, opening band or headliner — it is still about the music. In venues catering to a musical performance and a music-loving clientele, these rooms and halls are specifically set up to provide for the best possible audio system. Granted, there are those times when the town crier is standing behind the front of house console with the police chief and an SPL meter telling you that the audio is restricted to be no more than 90 dB at the FOH mix position, and you humbly nod your head in agreement while, at the same time, realize that the SPL coming off the stage is 110 dB before the mains are even turned on. Or a specific piece of gear that is crucial to the show is unavailable in a town so remote that you cannot even imagine that anyone in the vicinity has even heard of the band. I am well aware that even in the best of situations, there are technical problems and audio heartaches, but at least it’s still rock ‘n’ roll — or something like it.

Note: Baker Lee was among those East Coasters plunged into darkness via a massive power failure resulting from hurricane Sandy, so his column this month combines some new material and with a bit of a classic “FOH at Large” from 2010. We hope you enjoy this blast from the past. —ed.

Just recently, I had a conversation with a former FRONT of HOUSE editor. We were discussing the particular qualities of the different IEMs on the market and, during the conversation, he mentioned that he was getting a new set of Ultimate Ear monitors that very day. I reminded him that, a few years back, I had received a set of UE earsets and that I was going to write about them in this column.

Not so many years ago, before the digital revolution, there was a clearer distinction of defined boundaries in regard to places, things and ideas. Telephones were connected to a wall or a desk, and if one wanted to receive or make calls from a certain location in their home or office, they’d need to have an extension of their phone line installed in the desired area. If anyone was away from their home or office when the phone would ring, then the incoming phone call would most likely be missed, thereby leaving the caller and the recipient unconnected.

I just finished reading the book, Here, There and Everywhere, by famed Beatles recording engineer Geoff Emerick. Not only is this a great book for Beatles fans, but it also provides recording and live engineers a glimpse into the beginning of modern recording and production techniques. Emerick documents his career from his 1962 internship with the iconic EMI’s Abby Road Studios all the way through to the completion of the band’s 1969 Abby Road album and onward into his professional association and work with Paul McCartney, as well as a plethora of other well-known acts.

Call me archaic, but I actually find the English language to be a great way to express one’s thoughts — regardless of intent or purpose. From relaying simple instructions in concise terms to loquaciously waxing poetic, English — when used properly — is capable of conveying thoughts and feelings with nuance and elegance. This does not mean that we need to roll our “R’s” nor speak in Shakespearean English, but as intelligent people, we must find a middle ground between “Wherefore art thou?” and “Where you at?”

Anyone who has seen Walt Disney’s 1937 animated movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, should remember this classic tune by Frank Churchill and Larry Morey: Just whistle while you work…Put on that grin and start right in To whistle loud and long; Just hum a merry tune, Just do your best and take a rest, And sing yourself a song . When there’s too much to do, Don’t let it bother you, forget your troubles, Try to be just like a cheerful chick-a-dee, And whistle while you work. Come on get smart, tune up and start To whistle while you work…

Audio, music, baseball and girls are pretty much all I think about — and not necessarily in that order. Well, not really girls (since I’m married), but something just like it. Believe me, I’m not trying to imply that I’m shallow but… Okay, I’m a superficial scum, so sue me, but they do all go together, although maybe not in this article. So just for expediency, if I forget about the girls, it leaves audio, music and baseball.

An engineer friend of mine (now retired from the business) started his audio career in the early 1970s and spent the most part of the ensuing 30 years traveling throughout the world, mixing front of house and monitors. As well as being an excellent engineer, he is endowed with a charismatic charm, wit and a talent for networking. He was in with the Rock ‘n’ Roll elite and always had work with top-name acts in the business. In the latter part of the last century, he navigated a glamorous course that took him on an odyssey via the world of towering platform boots, big hair and colossal snare drum sounds to the north country of plaid shirts and ripped jeans. After a final bit of touring — which took him across an ocean of lip-synching divas to the lucrative strip-mined fields of boy-bands — he finally hung up his shoes and decided to settle down.