Ed Cash
"Have you ever heard Ed Cash?" Ben Lewis asked.
"No," I answered, as he threw an old tape into the dashboard of my station wagon.
"What does this song need?"
I hear a catchy, driving tune, sung by a man with a vocal range through the ceiling. But I have no idea. Several seconds later the choir kicked in, and suddenly I was listening to the first truly gospel tune of my young life. He had produced the album himself, cramming the choir of a local church into his living room. I wore the old tape out, wondering why my little guitar wouldn't sound like his, and willing my voice to climb that high (still two octaves too low).
Ed Cash still has some discs available online, and I've seen him perform incredible shows, but he has also done what many of the most talented musicians in the world do these days - produce music. Nearly ten years later, I ordered a Christmas present, Arriving by Chris Tomlin.
Bam, there it was. Ed Cash's signature written all over it. The strange organs he put on Bebo Norman's old CD's. The breathtaking fingerpicked guitar (Ed helped out on a song or two). Even the gospel vocals on several tracks. Obviously Ed has come a long way from self-producing Stability to creating a Dove-award winning record (that landed himself as producer of the year for 2005.) But the sound is eerily reminiscent of the early days.
Typically we hear a band or singer that we like, and stick with them. But we wonder what happens on a second or third CD - why isn't that as good as the first? What went wrong? Maybe the band or the songwriting, but also in all likelihood, the producer had a big part to do with it (either the wrong one or sticking with the right one too long, etc.).
Matching the right band with the right producer is arranging a short-term marriage. The band/singer is going to walk into the studio and say, I want a record that sounds like this (insert abstract description here). The producer takes the "man's" two word grunt, goes into the kitchen, and prepares a fabulous 12 to 14 course feast based on his expressed desire "want eat meat."
Not all musicans are like this - a talented one will seek out a producer who has created sounds he likes in the past and may be able to bring something new to the table. But by virtue of hiring the producer, a musician is saying, "I have limited talent. I am shortsighted in my musical vision. Tell me what to play and I'll play it. Tell me what to sing and I'll sing it."
So the musican gets a great disc and all the credit. An honest one like Chris Tomlin will pass the praise back to the "genius" producer, where it is largely due. And we will pop the perfect CD into the dashboard, tap our feet, sing at the top of our lungs, and all the world is right.
"No," I answered, as he threw an old tape into the dashboard of my station wagon.
"What does this song need?"
I hear a catchy, driving tune, sung by a man with a vocal range through the ceiling. But I have no idea. Several seconds later the choir kicked in, and suddenly I was listening to the first truly gospel tune of my young life. He had produced the album himself, cramming the choir of a local church into his living room. I wore the old tape out, wondering why my little guitar wouldn't sound like his, and willing my voice to climb that high (still two octaves too low).
Ed Cash still has some discs available online, and I've seen him perform incredible shows, but he has also done what many of the most talented musicians in the world do these days - produce music. Nearly ten years later, I ordered a Christmas present, Arriving by Chris Tomlin.
Bam, there it was. Ed Cash's signature written all over it. The strange organs he put on Bebo Norman's old CD's. The breathtaking fingerpicked guitar (Ed helped out on a song or two). Even the gospel vocals on several tracks. Obviously Ed has come a long way from self-producing Stability to creating a Dove-award winning record (that landed himself as producer of the year for 2005.) But the sound is eerily reminiscent of the early days.
Typically we hear a band or singer that we like, and stick with them. But we wonder what happens on a second or third CD - why isn't that as good as the first? What went wrong? Maybe the band or the songwriting, but also in all likelihood, the producer had a big part to do with it (either the wrong one or sticking with the right one too long, etc.).
Matching the right band with the right producer is arranging a short-term marriage. The band/singer is going to walk into the studio and say, I want a record that sounds like this (insert abstract description here). The producer takes the "man's" two word grunt, goes into the kitchen, and prepares a fabulous 12 to 14 course feast based on his expressed desire "want eat meat."
Not all musicans are like this - a talented one will seek out a producer who has created sounds he likes in the past and may be able to bring something new to the table. But by virtue of hiring the producer, a musician is saying, "I have limited talent. I am shortsighted in my musical vision. Tell me what to play and I'll play it. Tell me what to sing and I'll sing it."
So the musican gets a great disc and all the credit. An honest one like Chris Tomlin will pass the praise back to the "genius" producer, where it is largely due. And we will pop the perfect CD into the dashboard, tap our feet, sing at the top of our lungs, and all the world is right.
posted by David and Ari at 4:23 AM
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