The Jester (during)

The process is not a typical one, but it works.

The crippling restrictions of three rolls of half-inch analogue on seven channels to record ensembles of up to ten or more musicians could only be seen by one so perverse as I as an advantage.

I won’t disappear up any technical jargon just now, but the point is, the way we have the equipment set up, and the way these musicians are arranged, means that every aspect of the recording has an element of chance, and that the process of creating is dependent upon a willingness to relinquish, and destroy, and move on.

The options that are not available to us force us to work in a way that is creative, expressive, and as far from the dreaded dry studio fatigue as Washington is from Tehran.

I have said before that recording overdubs is like making love wearing marigolds. That’s nonsense of of course. It’s a histrionical exaggeration of a cheap gag. And I enjoy saying it very much.

But every possible tool and technique must be considered, and chosen for a specific purpose, depending on what you want to create.

Those chosen for The Jester have suited the capturing of personal and sincere expressions, genuine characters, natural and unprepared unity, and surprise moments of wonder.