New studios facilitate recording

A couple of weeks ago I entered a recording studio.

I haven't been in one of those facilities since 1985. It was both nostalgic and new at the same time.

The last time I was in a studio there was no such thing as the digital recording program Pro Tools, which is used in all types of professional-recording sessions.

The program provides CD-quality multi-track editing on a personal computer. Musicians, both of the talented and non-talented species, can make themselves sound better by manipulating the sound. It also makes it easier to cut and splice the recordings.

Back in 1985, it was still the literal cut-and-paste style of editing. We'd record a bunch of takes of a song and find the best parts, bring out the razors or the scissors, cut the pieces out and tape them together.

With Pro Tools, you do that all on a computer, like piecing together an e-mail.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, my wife and I attended a recording session of my friend Chance Thomas. He's an award-winning composer who has done soundtracks for video games and short films. His works include the Academy Award-winning score for "The Chubb

Chubbs;" the Emmy Award-winning score for the public-service announcement "Rise Above the Blues;" and a slew of video games including "Peter Jackson's 'King Kong,' " "X-Men: the Official Game," "Quest for Glory V" and "Lord of the Rings," just to name a few.

Thomas, a Brigham Young University graduate who resides in Northern California, was holding sessions at Soularium Studios in Alpine.

He was laying down the basic tracks for a new video game based on the "Left Behind" Christian-book series, which will be released later this year. We were able to catch Enoch Train guitarist Rich Dixon putting his talent to work.

All at once I was transported back to my last visit to a studio in '85.

I had just finished a farewell gig with my band in Wichita, Kan. I was quitting the band to embark on an LDS mission. We played a basement party for a few of our close and not-so-close friends. After the show, I went over to my friend's studio to take in a session, while the band began to count the cash in the donation plate.

At about 2:30 a.m., the studio phone rang. Apparently someone swiped the cash — about $400. The band gave chase and caught up with the thief in a strip-mall parking lot. And the guy pulled a gun and popped off a couple of rounds.

Thankfully no one was hurt. We just lost the money. (Apparently the guy skipped town later that morning.)

After I hung up the phone, I took a couple of deep breaths and thought to myself, "Boy I'm glad I'm going on a mission."

All of that rushed through my head as I watched Thomas following his score and giving notes to the fiery-fingered Dixon and the intensely quiet and technically efficient engineer, Dan Carlisle.

But most of all, I was glad I didn't get any phone calls that night. Even my cell phone, which was set to vibrate, didn't go off. So I was able to take in nearly two hours of the blissful creative process.

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E-mail: scott@desnews.com