Peter Gabriel’s Rural, Revolutionary Retreat
AS A FREELANCE ENGINEER in the 1990s, Tim Oliver mostly lived between London and Manchester, England, where he played in bands and recorded acts like The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays. But about 15 years ago, he decided to try working farther afield: He rented a room from Peter Gabriel at the iconoclastic artist’s Real World Studios, in the village of Box near the historic city of Bath. Oliver was familiar with the studio’s legend: New Order was among its first clients, and he still kicks himself for missing a party there that “went down in history” during the “heady rave days.” Once he started working at the space, the self-professed “country boy” realized he preferred its vibe, which is now much more peaceful. After its studio manager retired, Oliver became senior consulting engineer, part of a team of three overseeing Real World’s operations. He spoke about the special place that’s just an hour from Heathrow but, as he puts it with a laugh, “far enough from London to keep the horrible people out.”
I just love the environment, and now there’s no way I can leave except in a box! (Laughs.) It’s a magical part of the world. All the green, the running water, it’s all part of Peter’s belief that you need that for refreshment and creative ideas. But also the studio design and layout was his vision — and completely opposite of conventional studio design at the time. He hated having the control room separated from the studio by glass; there would be this latent or slightly under-the-radar paranoia from musicians. He wanted to bring everyone together. So he thought of the big room, this vast, cathedral-like space where everyone — the musician, the producer, the engineer — are all in the same room, which makes communication so much easier. When he built it, I believe it was slightly laughed at, but I found it really exciting, and I always wanted to work here because of that. And now it’s kind of the norm; if you find a new studio, they’ll have a very big control room that can house most of the musicians. It’s much more relaxed; there’s no red-light fever.
We can put up about eight to 10 people in the house, and there’s a separate, self-contained producer cottage with a bit more privacy. We have a chef who cooks for everybody, a big dining room, a lovely housekeeper who’s a kind of West Country woman, very down to earth, who just looks after everyone’s needs. It feels like home immediately. There’s no “Oh, shit. I didn’t feed the cat.” You don’t have to look at the news or read about the queen dying — you can find out two weeks later. And when Peter comes in, he’ll pick up on little things that make all the difference. He’s very astute. God is in the details.
Harry Styles was here just recently to do his last record. You can hear [the studio’s influence] in how laid-back that record is. He’d go out running in the morning, around the fields — freedom he probably doesn’t get so much elsewhere. He’s very funny, a lovely bloke. He’d go off to the local pub, book a table for Sunday lunch — and within a few days, we had 50 young girls at the gate. But he manages it so well. He doesn’t get carried away by it at all. He’s just a smiley boy.
We’ve had Foals, The 1975, Tom Jones. I do a lot of work here for Robert Plant. Most of the vocals for the last record he did with Alison Krauss, he stood right here singing with me. It’s a huge range of artists, and they all enjoy the environment and the vibe and find the creative kick. That’s why we survive, I think. And that’s all down to Peter and his ethos. It’s all about fostering the creativity of the musician and the performance — nothing else matters. That’s his ethos entirely.