Flying the Coop

For almost two decades now, I’ve been making music – writing, practicing, recording – in workspaces outside of my home. For several years before that, I had always figured out ways to construct music spaces in various apartments. It’s no small thing to find environments that are friendly to sound – rooms that support and enhance musical tones, walls and floors that isolate sonic activity from neighbors’ sleeping areas, etc. Working outside the home has provided solutions, or at least reducing some of the dilemmas outlined above.

The first workspace coincided with the decision to form Birdsong At Morning as a going musical concern. Keeping with the bird theme, I decided to call it The Aviary in the credits of the first Birdsong ep, Bound, The Aviary (mach 1) was a large unheated space in an old mill building in Clinton, Massachusetts. Not ideal for sound (or comfort during New England winters), it did allow for room for a full band to rehearse, the ability to leave a PA system set up for rehearsals, and a separate area for a recording/mixing “studio.” We decorated as best we could and created an environment that encouraged our nascent musical reawakening (aided by a less-than-up-to-code propane flame thrower that was too loud to operate while making sound, but which could be fired up between takes). Some of the photos included in the subsequent Annals of My Glass House box set show the interior of this space, as well as shots of Darleen Wilson and Greg Porter and myself recording in the recently unearthed video for “Prodigal Soul.”

The Aviary established a hybrid studio approach that I have utilized to this day. Record a basic scratch guitar and vocal performance, then go to a proper studio to record drums or orchestral strings, then back to the Aviary for overdubs and mixing. On a side note, I often recorded other musicians in their homes using a portable interface, a couple of microphones, and a laptop –dubbed “the Backpack Mobile.”

Midway through the Annals of My Glass House project, we were forced to leave the first Aviary location when the building was put under new management. Fortunately, I found a new space in yet another old mill building located in Hudson, MA. This time, the room was heated, though with rotting windows and missing bricks, “heated” was a relative term. The Aviary (mach 2) had a great feel, with lots of trees visible through the large (drafty) windows, and a sense of remote isolation that made the still very self-conscious performer feel just an iota less self-conscious. The last two installments of Annals as well as our first full-length album, A Slight Departure were completed here. 

The Aviary (mach 2) in Hudson, MA

We loved it here. Until we were forced to move when the building took on new management…

Coinciding with a move to downtown Lowell, MA, The Aviary (mach 3) was awkwardly housed in a set of office spaces in a run-down office complex just blocks from our new condo. Surrounded by shelves of inventory and guitars in cases, I undertook my first immersive audio mixes, creating 5.1 versions of A Slight Departure. Any serious audio professional would refuse to set foot in such a haphazard “facility,” but fortunately, I was not a serious audio professional. I also found the claustrophobic space very conducive for writing, despite (because of?) the hip-hop radio station across the hall and the constant sirens and street noise emanating from below my one little window. But after someone kicked a neighbor’s admittedly flimsy door down, I decided it might be wise to relocate yet again. 

This move happened to coincide with my appointment as Chair of the music department at UMass Lowell. One of the perks of this job was a new office space. Whereas most academics have walls of bookshelves, my office also included walls of CDs and vinyl records. Oh yes, and now a “control room” set-up behind my desk. When students came in to complain about faculty, came in to complain about… everything, they sat across from my desk staring at a mix controller, display screen, and 5 Genelec loudspeakers. Once the day’s set of complaint appointments was over, I spun my chair around and became a semi-professional musician and record producer – very convenient, a commute measured in milliseconds. And so, Signs and Wonders was recorded and mixed in The Aviary (mach 4) a/k/a Alan’s office.

And when my three-year appointment as Chair was at an end, so was the Aviary (mach 4). For reasons not entirely clear, I decided to rent a room in a private home in Carlisle, MA. The owner and his other tenants were away during the day, so sound as not a problem. Oh yeah, and there was a private swimming pool in the backyard. And an amazing ice cream dairy next door. The Aviary (mach 5) served as the setting for the re-working of what eventually came out as Evidence Unearthed. I fondly recall recording the main guitar part to “Anniston” by cranking up an amp I found in the basement, the fragrance of frying ions filling the air, and recording both the amp and the resulting sound in the kitchen at the other end of the house – no need for fancy reverb emulation plug-ins. God knows what the cows next door thought was happening.

And then, the pandemic. In lockdown conditions, it was impossible for me to intrude upon other folks’ living situation. And so, The Aviary (mach 5) fell silent for several months, completely inaccessible. Sitting at home with lots of time on my hands, I began to contemplate a possible future where musical performance might be permanently restricted to the ethosphere. I determined that I should put together a new Aviary where musicians could gather, their performances captured not only by microphones but by cameras as well. Such an enterprise would require large space with high ceilings for lights, etc. And so, carefully donning a mask, I began the search for the perfect a/v studio on a microbudget. Lo and behold, I found one in an old mill building (detecting a theme here?) in North Chelmsford, MA.

Moving into The Aviary (mach 6)

And thus, The Aviary (mach 6) was born. Recently out-of-work live production friends helped me to set up the studio with cheap gear they needed to offload while waiting for the concert industry to revive. Seeking to promote the release of Evidence Unearthed in a pandemic (I do have a knack for “timing”), I attempted a few live-streaming performances using semi-pro technology with musicians separated by tall dividers constructed of cheap pine and plastic sheeting. While it was an exuberant experience getting to finally make some noise with other people in the same room, the results that came down the phone lines were less than top quality. After a period of experimentation, I realized that streaming in real-time was beyond my grasp. But, capturing in real-time, then mixing and editing camera angles in post-production retained the “liveness” while getting something closer to the ideal viewing/listening experience.

The turning point came with an opportunity to be part of a Jeff Buckley festival. Previous versions of the festival had been staged in Brooklyn, but in the pandemic, it was determined that contributions would be filmed and then sent into the home office for assembly, and broadcast at a later date. This allowed me to test the live/post approach with a version of “Grace,” featuring my vocal and guitar along with mandolin, bass, two percussionists, and a string quartet all playing together in one room. Felt great, sounded good, looked ok. But as proof of concept, a solid win.

Next up was a school project designed to engender musical performance in quasi real time by students who were not allowed to gather on campus. All semester, the members of the newly formed Pink Floyd ensemble had laboriously worked out their parts for a planned recorded performance of Dark Side of the Moon. Then, over a weekend, the ensemble came into The Aviary (mach 6) in groups of 5-6 to track their performances live on camera. In fact, the initial instrumental basics were begun the night of the Jeff Buckley Festival transmission. I have the surreal memory of being on a Zoom call with many of the musicians taking part in the festival along with Jeff’s mother lending her support to the endeavor. At one point while I opened my mic to say a few words, the sound of my students running through “Us and Them” in the next room overwhelmed the audio. “What’s that?,” said Jeff’s mom. “Oh, that’s my student Pink Floyd ensemble getting ready to record,” says me. “I love Pink Floyd,” says Jeff’s mom. “I love Jeff Buckley,” says me. 

Pink Floyd Ensemble - Dark Side Of The Moon

Pink Floyd Ensemble - Wish You Were Here

King Crimson Ensemble - Red

At any rate, we recorded the album in stages with one exception. Pushing the acceptable number of people sharing physical space (all testing for COVID daily), a stunning performance of “The Great Gig in the Sky” was tracked completely live in one continuous take. Not heard in the sound of the final cut was me dropping to my knees at the conclusion crying out, “OH MY GOD!”  A highlight of my career as a teacher, of my life as a musician, and of my new hobby as a semi-professional camera operator. Over 100k YouTube viewers agree.

The success of that project led to a follow up performance of Wish You Were Here, as well as my previous King Crimson ensemble lured into The Aviary (mach 6) to record their performance of Red, several months after our campus had been shut down the week before the planned concert. Oh, and I tracked and mixed much of my most recent solo project Currents during this time. In fact, the last foray into ensemble video performance was last fall’s Currencies performance, tracked using my now well-honed technique. The room has seen a lot of musical joy.

Alan Williams - Currencies

Alas, the building was recently sold to new management (are we detecting another theme here?) and I am now forced to vacate this magical space. I stand at the cusp of a new era - The Aviary (mach 7) is taking shape in a small office space a few blocks from my condo. I’m letting go of video now that we can all gather together in person but holding on to musical creation and audio recording. There’s a little area for inventory (you can help reduce the number of discs on the moving truck by making a purchase at Blue Gentian Records, an area overlooking a quintessentially sketchy alleyway, perfect for musical inspiration, AND an intimate mixing room where I am putting together a space to work in Dolby Atmos. Hopefully, those speakers suspended from the ceiling will stay suspended on the ceiling…

The Aviary is dead; long live The Aviary!