MITCH DALTON

The studio guitarist’s guide to happiness and personal fulfilment, as related by our resident session ace. This month: Heavy Fretting.

As my son Josh would say “Don’t get me wrong”, but experience is a priceless commodity that embodies one significant drawback. And that, dear reader, is the learning that there's an infinite number of ways to screw up a recording session. Maybe more.

Much of the anxiety resides in the fear of the unknown and occurs inconveniently in the days before one plants a plectrum on one’s Peerless* at the studio. (*Other guitars are available, but not with optional alliteration.) I was given a salutary reminder of the symptoms of Premusical Syndrome only recently when booked to play with a well-known symphony orchestra based in London. For reasons of confidentiality I cannot divulge the name of the band but I can tell you that their initials are LSO. My mission, which I chose to accept, was to participate in the last movement of a piano concerto to be recorded at Abbey Road Studio 1. I was sent a YouTube video of the guitar sound that the composer wished me to replicate. It was on a track by a 90s Icelandic band and was an atmospheric, sustained effect replete with random overtones. I was also sent a MIDI file of the demo of the concerto. My first concern was that the two seemed to be quite different in terms of tempo and overall feel, the latter being considerably faster. Hmm. I persevered. After giving the track a severe listening to, I concluded that the original sound seemed to embody a bowed effect which I guessed might be produced by an EBow. For the uninebriated, this is a hand-held device that produces infinite sustain when set at the correct height above the string of choice. Personally, I’ve found this gizmo to be cumbersome to operate successfully, thus producing erratic results. In my less-thancompetent hand it either fails to trigger at all or bursts into life like a battery-operated bucking bronco with unpredictable, unfortunate and unusable results. In all fairness, it’s probably necessary to spend time with the thing but nevertheless, the prospect of utilising this malevolent mechanism on a live session merely added to my overall anxiety levels. Upon further internet investigation, I discovered that the consensus was that an ackchool cello bow had been employed to create the sound, in the rich tradition of both L. Zeppelin and S.Tap, if you will. Let’s be blunt. That wasn’t gonna happen. Nevertheless, I had a go at making a fist of the required task in the discomfort of my home studio. Finally, not really having a clue as to whether or not my efforts would prove acceptable on the day, I decided to throw the classic-rock kitchen sink at the problem. I set up my pedal board with a small amount of compression (Boss), mild overdrive (Zen Drive), digital reverb with lots of spin using the feedback control, a digital delay with a long interval and a volume pedal to feed in the sound with no attack at the front end. I then packed a bag with as many alternatives as I could muster EBow, Mesa Boogie V-Twin, two fancy Strymon pedals, OCD distortion pedal, flanger, two chorus pedals, a bottleneck and the usual cables and tuners. I then selected a PRS Custom guitar and backed it up with my Collings I-35 and Parker Fly. Finally, I loaded both a Fender Super Champ and a Fender Princeton Reverb Reissue and set off for the iconic parking crisis that is EMI in Abbey Road, NW8.

I arrived for the 6pm session at 4pm, quite deliberately, and sought out the composer. A charming man, made even more attractive to me by listening to the first sound I’d set up and commenting - “That’s great”. The guitar part appeared. It consisted mainly of two notes - a minim and a semibreve, repeated about eight times. At the appointed hour the 130-odd musicians of the orchestra assembled in the main studio area while I remained isolated in a booth with only two video screens for company.

We recorded one take. At 6.10pm we performed take two. At 6.20pm we patched two small sections. At 6.30pm we were all thanked profusely and, in time-honoured tradition, asked to leave as quickly as possible. In short, four days of anxiety followed by 30 minutes of recording. As my eldest son Jamie was wont to say at the age of four, “It’s a funny old world, Dad.” Nuff said.

For more on Mitch and his musical exploits with the Studio Kings, go to: www.mitchdalton.co.uk

Hold the Ebow directly over the string you want to add sustain to

Four days of worry about an impending session were allayed in 30 mins, tells Mitch