Creating an environment where artists can flourish means building trust, understanding people and valuing everyone’s input.
When I first started working in studios, I found it incredibly intimidating. More often than not I was surrounded by men who were confident and sure of their ideas, at a time when I was unsure of my own voice as a producer. I soon learned that the loudest person in the room often got their point across the quickest and I remember thinking: Where do I fit in here? Where does the shy or quiet artist fit in here? I didn’t want to become a bully just to make myself heard, I wanted to be the facilitator for artists whose voices had been overlooked. When I started producing with empathy, it all changed.
A lot of the artists I work with tend to be women and non‑binary people who have had negative studio experiences with (predominantly male) producers in the past. I once worked with a musician who had had such a bad time with her last producer that she quit music for five years. At first she struggled to even look at me. I knew I had to take my time and allow her the space to find her conviction in the studio again. At that time I felt that this was more important than how the recordings would turn out. But, with our creative trust building she became more confident and, as a result, more able to express her vulnerability. Within a few days she was thriving. It’s easy to get bogged down in recording efficiently and keep one eye on the clock, especially with time and budget constraints, but I truly believe that we wouldn’t have made the amazing record we made without spending the time to build our personal relationship first.
I truly believe that we wouldn’t have made the amazing record we made without spending the time to build our personal relationship first.
So here are my tips to producing with empathy.
Be In The Artist’s World
I believe that most great songs come from a place of vulnerability, whether you’re working with a brand‑new artist or a veteran songwriter. Therefore, every interaction you have with an artist about their song matters. By actively listening and engaging with them you, as the producer, can create an environment where they feel both supported and encouraged. This empathetic approach helps establish trust and fosters a collaborative atmosphere that allows everyone’s creativity to flourish. So, before setting up any microphones or opening up Pro Tools, it is vital to understand the headspace that created the song. This is the main reason why pre‑production is so important.
It’s crucial to me to begin each production in a social setting, so that I can get to know the artist and find out what makes them tick. I tend to meet them for a coffee so we can have a deep dive into their emotional state, what’s happening in their lives and their motivation behind writing. After initial meetings I then like to make a shared reference playlist and constantly discuss the artist’s song choices. It keeps the creative ideas flowing before you even hit the studio, and helps you to get to know their musical world. By the time we’re close to recording, the relationship is already formed and the trust is there.
This is my way of creating a common understanding that serves as a platform for discussions about structural changes and the sonic palette of the production. When I’m making these suggestions, I try to phrase them as questions and never as a “you should/shouldn’t” statement. I can be confident in my ideas while making space for the songwriter to feel valued and understood. The key thing to remember is how personal this song is to the musician. If the story element of the song is the most important, how can I facilitate and enhance that? After all, it’s our job as record producers to understand both the artist and their audience.
No Hierarchy
My most important way of gaining trust in creative spaces is by having a ‘no hierarchy’ rule. No matter who is in the producer’s chair, we’re all in this together.
I used this approach recently when I produced a new band called Picture Parlour. They ooze ’70s appeal, with lead singer Katherine delivering wonderful crooning vocals. When we recorded the bass, myself and my engineer Isabel Gracefield put blindfolds on while bassist Sian tried all the different bass guitar options. Sian played a chorus with each bass as Isabel and I sat there and listened. Then the band, engineers and I voted on the best tone. As a group, we debated and guessed which one was which.
We could have easily chosen the bass sound quickly without any of this, and it definitely would have saved time, but the group camaraderie it gave was immeasurable. The band were buzzing about the experience and Sian’s next bass takes were near‑perfect. After that, every time we tried a new sound I could see every person in the studio feeling hyped to be there, because they knew that they all had a voice in the room.
As every reader knows, working with a band is very different from working with a solo artist. It involves constantly juggling different personalities and perspectives. Working with a band is all about observing the dynamics. Because of this, I find it incredibly important to learn how the band members communicate and work together before I start to chime in. Compared with a solo artist, I try to spend even more time with a band before hitting pre‑production, in order to understand the relationships within the band. Even though the songs might be written by only one or two people, the other members might have great arrangement ideas, and those could be missed if the producer doesn’t make space for them. It’s easy to just look to the songwriters when making decisions, but involving the whole team ensures everyone has a stake in the recording process and makes everyone’s performances improve. I think of us as one big extended family, with my role being the ‘fun aunt’ letting people try whatever they like.
For example, I may have hired a vintage Ludwig Black Beauty or 400 snare drum, but the drummer might want to try their own. It’s easy to dismiss their snare if it’s not the sound I originally imagined for the record, but it only takes three minutes to try a pass with it. We’ll probably collectively make the decision to use the Black Beauty, but we might use theirs for another song, or as a sample to be put over the top. It doesn’t take much time or commitment, but it instantly involves the drummer in a creative decision rather than dismissing them outright. Small things like this across a whole recording session add up and definitely make a difference.
Engineer and mixer Isabel Gracefield puts it perfectly when she says: “When everyone feels heard, that’s when the sonics can be pushed. If I’m feeling valued as an engineer, I’m going to do my most creative work, and that passes along to the musicians, engineers, assistants, and so on. We’re all in it together.”
Can’t We Have Fun?
There’s a reason we call it “playing music”. We’re supposed to have fun! Isn’t that why we got into music in the first place? If we wanted to be serious, we’d all do different jobs! When you allow the musicians’ thoughts to be heard without fear of judgement, you’re letting them come out of their shell. Wacky ideas lead to confident playing.
When the artist and band are having fun, their energy and enthusiasm is palpable and their performances have a sense of liveliness and authenticity. It fosters a relaxed atmosphere that encourages experimentation, improvisation and risk‑taking, leading to captivating musical moments. Ultimately, the joy experienced during the recording process is carried through into the final track, as listeners can sense the passion and pleasure that went into its creation.
Sometimes it can take three ‘wrong’ ideas before you get to the great idea in the studio. Other times, an idea that you initially think won’t work can end up being the thing that glues the whole song together.
Sometimes it can take three ‘wrong’ ideas before you get to the great idea in the studio. Other times, an idea that you initially think won’t work can end up being the thing that glues the whole song together. A wacky snare sound can inspire another band member to think of a new percussion part, or to have the middle eight of the song sound like it’s in another room. If we don’t let musicians try these things out we could be missing out on endless opportunities, so it’s important to allow space for these moments. Inclusion fosters a sense of ownership and investment in the song or album, leading to stronger performances and a deeper sense of cohesion. By acknowledging and embracing the diverse perspectives within the band line‑up, we as producers can cultivate an open space where everyone feels respected and valued.
When I was a studio assistant I was always fascinated by how producers would record vocals with their artists. Everyone did it a different way! One of my favourite producers would kick everyone out of the studio besides the vocalist and himself. The intimacy of the takes it gave was incredible — so I tried the same thing with Katharine from Picture Parlour. The lyrics were personal, and I assumed it would be intimidating to sing in front of an audience. After six full takes, the vulnerability of the verses was perfect. Katharine had felt every single emotion while singing. Her lyric “I’m not sure I know my body yet” was cutting and impactful. But something in the final chorus was lacking. I had forgotten how much of a frontperson Katherine is.
We got the whole band and friends in the live room and Katharine gave a full performance in front of us all. I handed her my sunglasses, as in the scene from Adam Sandler’s Big Daddy, and the vocal take was spectacular. I’ve never seen someone develop such an aura in the studio so quickly. Every artist and musician is different, and I truly believe the most important part of the job of producer is to understand how they work in order to enhance and facilitate their individual qualities in the way that makes the most impact on the audience.
Recently when recording extra backing vocals, I’ve got into the habit of putting a waterproof microphone in a metal cup of water and having the artist sing into it. I put a lot of effects on it and let the singer do whatever they want. We call it the “fun take”. Amazing ad libs come out of it, but most of all, the singer comes back into the control room feeling incredible. By understanding what the song means to the artist, we can cultivate an environment that allows them to feel every emotion surrounding it — and that includes joy as well as the darker or more intense emotions.
Managing Time & Budget
Prioritising empathy in the studio environment creates an ideal atmosphere for fostering artistry. However, it is crucial to acknowledge the limitations of low budgets and time constraints. It is totally possible to balance empathy and efficiency in the studio, but the key lies in meticulous organisation and scheduling. By allocating ample time for pre‑production, we ensure that we have the necessary resources and flexibility to explore creative possibilities during recording sessions. Guide tracks can be prepared in advance, or recorded at home (as the ‘demo’), allowing us to optimise our time for more experimental endeavours. When I’m using bigger studios, I tend to use that time to let the artist let loose on the ideas that we can only really try in those spaces, even if it might mean that we end up using my smaller studio to track vocals or to edit. I also save time with my theory that the better the artist feels, the better their performance. We therefore don’t need to record a million takes of each part.
My biggest advice for producing with empathy is to develop these time‑management skills so that when the creative juices are flowing, you’ve already put the work in, and know that you have the time to explore and have fun. By developing a solid musical and emotional relationship with the artist before setting foot in the studio you’ve established the space where creativity can flourish.
I used to think I wasn’t strong enough for this job. Internalised misogyny taught me that I didn’t have a place making big bombastic records. If only I had known that quiet confidence and care was what a lot of artists need. After years of producing, maybe now I am one of the noisier ones in the room. But if I’m loud, it’s with encouragement. And an extra pair of sunglasses.