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14 September 2005

Review of “Senses” by Michael Herzfeld

Review of “Senses” by Michael Herzfeld
Robin Daniel Z. Rivera
Anthropology 292
14 September 2005
Dr. Michael Tan

The “Othering” of Senses
A couple of years ago, I reported on visual research in a Sociology methods class. In that report, my references pointed to a tyranny of text over images in the realm of social and cultural research. This was because of a perception that, in the natural and social sciences, most observation is conducted using the sense of sight.  The report coincided with my own frustrations about the growing, but still limited repertoire of acoustic methods in social science. Today’s review focuses on an even deeper problem, the embryonic stage of anthropological theory and methods regarding the “other” senses, namely smell, touch, and taste.  This is based on an article by Michael Herzfeld (2001) on the Anthropology of the Senses. 

“Anthropology, like all academic disciplines, is primarily a verbal activity. Even the study of visual media must always be expressed in words. ... We have already seen that the modern representational practices are heavily dependent on visual formats, but even this restriction seems to appear most commonly as an extension of verbal texts.” (Herzfeld, p. 240)

Since the latter half of the 20th century, a number of writers have pointed out an apparent hierarchy of senses in the social sciences. Herzfeld cites Marshall McLuhan (popularly known in mass communication circles for his tag line “the medium is the message”) and his student Walter Ong as having laid the foundation for what would be known as the Anthropology of the Senses. In his book  Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word, Ong traces the contrast between two types of knowledge in the west. They posit that in ancient Greek civilization, knowledge was articulated in sound via speech in spite of the fact that most physical observation was conducted visually. But this relationship was profoundly changed with the arrival of written text. By the time of the invention of the printing press, knowledge had become not only gathered, but articulated and disseminated via text. This set the stage for the devaluation of sound, and the primacy of textual literacy. In my experience, it is therefore no mystery that up to this day, textual literacy is highly prized in our western-oriented educational system whether in the natural and social sciences, or in the humanities. The situation has gotten to the point that in some instances, “seeing” is not necessarily the basis of “believing”, but “reading” is. In addition, textual knowledge fits nicely into the modernist paradigm. Because of its ability to isolate, and subdivide knowledge into neatly analyzed “objects”, text is the ideal companion of reason and rationality. Despite Ong’s disclaimer that neither orality nor literacy is superior, Herzfeld is just one in hinting that among scholars, textual literacy is considered higher up the evolutionary ladder than orality. 

“Such biases reflect the extraordinary persistence of evolutionism in both popular and scholarly thinking in the West. The reluctance of present-day anthropologists to examine or recognize the cultural importance of smell, taste and touch is due not only to the relative marginalization of these senses in the modern West, but also to the racist tendencies of an earlier anthropology to associate “lower” senses with “lower races. As sight, and to a lesser extent, hearing, were deemed the predominant senses of a “civilized” westerners, smell, taste, and touch were assumed to predominate among a more “primitive” non-westerners.” (Herzfeld, p.246)

Herzfeld goes on to cite a growing number of social scientists that have “bravely” taken on  what was to become the “Anthropology of the Senses”. Herzfeld appends his earlier mention of McLuhan and Ong, with the works of such scholars as C. Nadia Seremetakis, Paul Stoller, Constance Classen, and Roy Porter, who is acknowledged as actually having coined the phrase “the cultural anthropology of the senses” in the preface to his book The Foul and the Fragrant: Odor and the French Social Imagnation (1986).

In the introduction her book  “The Color of Angels: Cosmology, Gender and the Aesthetic Imagination “ (1998), Classens begins with a tirade against Western visual culture:

“Modern Western culture is a culture of the eye.We are constantly bombarded, seduced, and shaped by visual models and representations, from maps and graphs to pictures and texts.  This rule of sight carries with it a powerful aura of rationality and objectivity, even though many of its contemporary manifestations, such as advertising images, seem designed to manipulate the emotions more than to exercise the reason. The photographic nature of much of twentieth-century representation helps maintain this aura of objectivity by appearing to provide the viewer with direct access to reality, rather than only mediating reality.
The visualist regime of modernity, in fact, prides itself on its transparency: everything can be seen, everything can be known, nothing is withheld from our inquisitive and acquisitive eyes.  The microscopic view and the panoramic view intersect to display our world to us inside and out.  However, the very visualism of modernity has, so to speak, thrown a cloak of invisibility over the sensory imagery of previous eras.  So thick is this cloak that one can scarcely see through it, or even recognize that there might be some thing worth exploring underneath.  When this cloak is lifted, however, the cosmos suddenly blazes forth in multisensory splendour: the heavens ring out with music, the planets radiate scents and savours, the earth springs to life in colours, temperatures, and sounds.”

The Problems of the Senses
Herzfeld’s article goes on to point out a major problem, that smell and taste are difficult to record, thus making them fleeting and subjective. In the 20th century, sound has managed to partially overcome this problem with advances in audio recording. This gave rise to what can be referred to as “secondary orality” But in his review of Ong’s book, Art Bingham (2005) points out that this idea of secondary orality remains undeveloped, and did not anticipate the rise of such technologies as audiobooks, voicemail, and very recently podcasts. Unfortunately, the other senses have not been so lucky. Some efforts to include othered senses in media have been few and far between. The film industry, for example, has tried such gimmicks as “Smell-o-rama” in the 1960's, and “Sensurround” in the 1970's film “Earthquake”. These innovations unfortunately never achieved widespread practice. While these examples are far from academic in nature, it shows how undervalued these senses are in contemporary media, and among the critical mass.

Despite its role in the human experience of the lifeworld, sensory perception is ordinarily accepted not only as a physical and psychological act, but a cultural one as well. Herzfeld recognizes that smell carries considerable weight in the transmission of cultural values. His example uses the radical difference in the reaction of a South East Asian and a European to a Durian fruit. But Herzfeld cautions that the senses are also an arena of agency. This means that even within a culture, there may be a wide range in ways by which individuals may perceive a particular phenomenon with their senses. This, plus the technological difficulties encountered in recording and measuring smell, taste and texture, marginalize them not only against vision, but sound as well. He tentatively suggests that the study of the senses should accompany the study of aesthetics (a later chapter in his book), with aesthetics being defined as a “subjective perception of feeling” in Greek civilization. This does not however completely bridge what I consider a gap between artistic aesthetics, and scientific studies on such things as olfactory preferences between cultures, age groups, genders, etc. 

Another problem, experienced mostly and/or cited by Western scholars is that recent Western culture have lost its sensitivity for sensory information. 

“To put this another way, the Suya think in smell, whereas we only react to smells, because our culture does not provide us with a framework in terms of which to think of odors as symbolic vehicles. Colors can symbolize concepts for us, as in the case of the traffic light system, where red means "stop," green means "go," and so on. Sounds also have meaning for us, for example, the soundtrack of a movie tells us what emotions we should be feeling as the action unfolds. But odors are not coded by our culture (or more likely, the code has been forgotten), which deprives us of any model in terms of which to organize our olfactory experience. Hence, our response to smells can only be measured in terms of relative pleasure. Of course there is nothing stopping our society from re-developing an olfactory code, but this would require a more integrated and totalizing production and marketing strategy on the part of the fragrance industry than exists at present. (Herzfeld, p.249)” 

It is not surprising therefore that Western scholars, who author much of the research on the anthropology of the senses, feel an urgency to find the fuel to reconstitute a sensory framework for their own culture. This is why most “enthosensory” research often leads them outside the West. 

To recap, Western social science (including Anthropology) is alleged to have constructed a hierarchy of senses depending on both ontological and epistomological value. 
1. Sight - Vision is often cited as the favored sensory facility of modernism. Text is the most utilized form of articulating and transmitting knowledge. Images are a secondary source, but in most cases must be accompanied by explanatory text. 
2. Sound - While sound was prized by classic Greek civilization in the form of oral discourse, it was overtaken with the emergence of text-based Western literate cultures. Even music which is primarily an aural medium, has undergone profound changes since the development of notation, and later electro-mechanical recording technologies. Environmental soundscapes have recently emerged as a serious subject of research, but still remain a relatively small area of study.
3. Others - Smell, taste and touch have been marginalized due to their subjective nature, and difficulties in recording and measurement. Only in the late 20th century have Western scholars seemed to have developed an organized interest in this field.

The Anthropolgical Response
Fortunately for us, the Anthropology of the Senses has benefitted not only from recent efforts to develop techniques in recording and measurement, but from late 20th century paradigms and theories. Various post-positivist paradigms have provided fresh artillery for anthropologists to deal with the subjective nature of the “other” senses. In one example given by Herzfeld, Seremetakis is said to have employed “multisensory imaging” in the study of her childhood memories in Greece. In my opinion, this seems every bit like a thick description from the reflexive and/or postmodern school. 

“The grandma sits on a wooden stool...... her face dark, her hair tied in a bun, her hands frekled and rough. The child slips into her lap. It is time for fairy tales. Slipping into her lap is slipping into a surround of different smells and textures, sediments of her work in the field, the kitchen, with the animals.” (Seremetakis 1994: 30, in Herzfeld, p. 250)

Another example of recent work in this field comes from the CONSERT group (once again lead by Classens). Their website contains a selection of studies, among which is a meta-study entitled The Anthropology of Odor (1990-1994). The study begins by stating that Americans are culturally underdeveloped in respect to their olfactory apparatus. It then goes on to survey cultures in may be considered “olfactorily richer”. One of many “lists” in their study is the “six most basic uses of odor for classificatory purposes”. 
1) Classifying people, animals and plants by their natural odor.
2) Classifying people, animals and plants by the symbolic odors attributed to them. For example, it is commonly supposed that different races each have a different smell, and even that "the `other' race stinks" - but there is no empirical evidence to support this belief.
3) Classifying groups within a society; for example, men and women, children and adults, by natural and symbolic odors.
4) Classifying space by reference to the environmental odor of different territories.
5) Classifying the cosmos through odor. For example, assigning contrasting symbolic odors to sun and moon (as among the Batek Negrito of Malaysia), or odorizing fundamental cosmic and social principles such as "structure" and "change" (as among the Bororo of Brazil).
6) Establishing a value system based on olfactory symbolism. For example, characterizing certain odors as good or bad and assigning them to different beings or states in order to signify the latter's moral goodness or badness.

The study acknowledges that the results can benefit such areas as the fragrance industry and alternative medicine (i.e. aromatherapy). While this study seems to want to emerge from the realm of symbolic, and/or interpretative anthropology, the acknowledged value to commercial ventures may have just as much to do with Marxist theories of political economies. 

Minor and Major Quibbles
One small but contentious statement caught my attention in the article. This is as Herzfeld’s suggests that this chapter be read in association with a proceeding one on aesthetics.

"The addition of smell and taste is rare, half humorous (calling a chef as “artist” has all the metaphorical ring of artifice), and confined to relatively few domains." (Herzfeld, p.241)

This statement could be read in two ways.  He could be referring to the recurring theme on the marginalization of smell and taste in the social sciences. But on the other hand, it is difficult to imagine why Herzfeld, after trying to prop up the importance of subjectivity and art in the evolution of the Anthropology of the Senses, would discriminate against the elite practitioners of Western culinary arts. This possibly reveals an obsolete perception of the state of art studies. This momentary lapse of judgement is bound to raise not just a few hackles from those in the arts, as well as the Anthropology of Food (yes, there is such a field!). 

Aside from this minor quibble, there is  problematic pattern that presents itself in Herzfeld’s, as well as a number of related articles I read in the course of preparing for this review.  The amount of academic energy spent complaining about the “othering” of the Anthropology of the Senses can get irritating at a certain point. Some of the articles I read in preparation for this report usually devote at least one section to problematizing the lack of research in this area due to the hegemony of text and visual thinking. This may be partly traced to the fact that the anthropology of the senses is a relatively new field. It may be said to have surfaced during the cusp between modernism and post-modernism. It is no surprise therefore to note its disdain towards various versions of evolutionism, similar to that taken by with several late 20th century theoretical positions. But Herzfeld states that the Anthropology of the Senses has hope in this century because:

“.... all the more so as it increasingly intersects with medical anthropology no longer tied to cartesian models of causation, but sensitive to the needs of an anthropology that is attuned at once ..... to both empirical and phenomenological concerns. The older mode of sense-less description indeed now begins to smell rather fishy. (Herzfeld, p. 253). 

I understand the nature of these complaints, given my own problems of often  having to repeatedly explain and rationalize my work in the area of sound studies. But I feel there will have to come a point wherein these complaints will have to end because it wastes precious energy. This can only happen if Anthropology (and social science in general for that matter) can augment orality and literacy with a new state of sensorial awareness and articulation, be it on an ontological, epistomological, or methodological level. Maybe then the proponents of the Anthropology of the Senses can get on with the work at hand, and stop having to offer extended prefaces to their work.

Despite the recency of Herzfeld’s essay, he stops short of projecting on what form of articulations the Anthropology of the Senses may take in the future. This is similar to Ong’s failure to fully develop the concept of secondary orality. Thankfully, modernity and post-modernity may have already begun to provide some methodological solutions to this problem. For example, science has, as far as I have heard, been working on new ways of accurately measuring othered sensory information. I recently witnessed a report on CNN of a psychological experiment that tried to measure gender preferences for specific smells. One the other hand, and as mentioned earlier, the rise of subjectivity has enabled new forms of writing and production that facilitate multi-sensory presentations. My own bold forecast coincides with a number of efforts to rework the concept of a “document”. One such effort found traction the 1980's with the development of “hypermedia”. In this case, documents have been reconceptualized into both non-linear and multi-linear streams of information that contain text, images and sounds. This can be augmented with Baudrillard’s move towards the study of  “simulations” in which the othered senses are not just appended as “special effects”, but integral to the production and experience of an event. If “Star Trek: The New Generation” is to be believed, not only our vacations, but academic documents will become sensorial simulations that blur the lines between physical and virtual reality. These, and a number of other disparate, but significant developments from a variety of disciplines may pave the way for a more vigorous Anthrpology of the Senses in the near future.


Cited Works

Art Bingham. “Review of Walter J. Ong's  Orality and Literacy”. 7 July 2005.  http://www.engl.niu.edu/wac/ong_rvw.html .(15 September 2005).

Constance Classens. “Introduction to The Color of Angels: Cosmology, Gender and the Aesthetic Imagination”. (London and New York: Routledge, 1998).  http://alcor.concordia.ca/~senses/Classen.htm .(15 September 2005).

Michael Herzfeld. “Senses” in Theoretical Practise in Culture and Society. (Unesco, Blackwell Publishers: USA, 2001). 

David Howes, Anthony Synnott and Constance Classens. “Anthropology of Odor (1990-1994)”. http://alcor.concordia.ca/~senses/Consert-Odor.htm.(15 September 2005).

Walter J. Ong. Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word. New Accents. Ed. Terence Hawkes. (New York: Methuen, 1988).

15 March 2005

The Rise of the Home Recording Studio in Metro Manila

The Rise of the Home Recording Studio in Metro Manila
Robin Daniel Z. Rivera
15 March 2005
Philippine Studies 229
Dr. Seraphin Talisayon

INTRODUCTION
In the early 1970's the disparity between professional and consumer level audio recording technology was at an all-time high. First, the cost of  professional recording equipment was out of reach by most lay people. At that time, a professional 8-track multi-track recorder, just one of the necessary components of a state of the art studio, cost about US$ 10,000.00. This hefty price tag bought you superior operating specifications, and bullet-proof reliability. While most consumer-level electronics were expected to render only a few hours of entertainment a day, professional equipment could be run practically 24/7 with minimal downtime within a specified length of time, usually in the tens of thousands of hours. The stratospheric price could be traced to the use of the military-grade materials, and the highest manufacturing tolerances. 

Second, professional equipment differed from their consumer counterparts not only in durability, but in capabilities as well. One example of a function not available to consumers was “Simul-Sync” or “Multi-Track Recording”. In this system, an ensemble performance was not done with all instruments playing at once. Each instrument/voice could be recorded in complete isolation, on a separate “track” on the tape recorder. Subsequent instruments/voices could be added at another time, while listening to what had been recorded earlier to guarantee synchronization among the instruments/voices. One 2-inch wide tape could contain as many as twenty-four tracks (in some cases even thirty-two). In some extreme cases, two or more machines could be electronically synchronized to multiply the number of tracks. After all instruments/ voices were recorded, they were then combined, or “mixed” into the final form, in either mono (one channel), or stereo (two channels) for release on vinyl discs or tape. Recorders of this sort were not only prohibitively expensive, but large as well. 

Third, since most instruments were acoustic in nature, a studio required an acoustically sealed room to record in. Each sound, and or performance had to be recorded in isolation so that extraneous sounds could be minimized or eliminated. Recording studios also required a large amount of space. Equipment was not only heavy but large as well. Control rooms needed to accommodate several large pieces of equipment. Mixing consoles alone, for example, could weigh hundreds of pounds, and measure up to eight meters wide. Large recording rooms were also desired  to house several musicians at once.  Just one room of this type of structure could cost more than an entire residential house because of the space requirements, massive structural reinforcement and air-conditioning needed. 

Fourth, the equipment and structure required a high level of maintenance. Many major parts for the equipment and the structure were proprietary, and had to be ordered directly from the factory. This made maintenance a costly and time-consuming effort.  

Fifth, it required specialized expertise in both operation and maintenance. Few, if any, schools in the Philippines offered specific training in audio engineering, a field that required a combination of electronics, acoustics, architecture, and music. 

But there are other, non-instrumental reasons for the lack of home recording activities and facilities in the early 20th century. Formal musical ensemble performances needed large spaces such as town plazas, cathedrals, and concert halls. Even the so-called “chamber” or “ salon” music of the 18th and 19th century Europe was practiced in large mansions and castles belonging to the political and economic elite. In the Philippines, “tertullias” were common only among the landed gentry with large “bahay-na-bato” that could fit not only the musicians and instruments, but the party-going audience as well. The most that most working musicians could do at home was practice, and even this was often times problematic because the sound produced by the repetitive practice and drills with musical instruments could be construed by neighbors as meaningless noise. Since musical recording was considered a type of formal music performance, it was not conceivable to conduct in the home of a typical working musician. 

But by the 1970's, the landscape began to change. A number of technological innovations would drastically bring the prohibitive cost of setting up a studio down to “affordable” levels. Recording equipment became cheaper, smaller, and easier to maintain. And the growing popularity of electric and electronic musical instruments minimized the need for large recording rooms.  Then there was a blurring of the lines between the workplace and the home. Small-scale home-based “cottage industries” entered the realm of formal business paradigms, specially in developing nations like the Philippines.  These changes resulted in the emergence of the “home studio”. 

This paper will examine one example in the development of the home studio in the Philippines, and how it changed the landscape of the recording industry. 

KEY TECHNOLOGICAL TOOLS AND PROCESSES  
In 1979, the TEAC Corporation introduced the TASCAM 144 PORTASTUDIO. While the technical operating specifications were modest,  This groundbreaking device contained a four-track simul-sync recorder and mixer, and used inexpensive cassette tapes, at a suggested retail price of US$ 1,100.00. And except for major parts like the tape heads, many of the spare parts could be bought in local electronic supply stores. This became the core device for what was to be affectionately dubbed as the “home studio” (and in some cases the “bedroom studio”). This directly benefitted at least two types of production workers. First to take advantage of these were working musicians. These musicians could now produce study tapes and “demo” recordings, as well as low cost commercial jingles (since radio jingles did not always need the high technical standards demanded by commercial records) by themselves, without having to rent time in state-of-the-art studios. And since by then many popular musical instruments were electric or electronic (electric guitars, electronic keyboards, drum machines, etc.), they could feed the output of the instrument directly to the input of the Portastudio, thus minimizing the need for a dedicated recording room. They were also relatively easy to operate. Much of the basic controls resembled consumer tape machines. More advanced features were simplified versions of professional tape recorders. Since many of the musicians who bought Portastudios had experience in recording studios and had seen professional equipment in action, the learning curve was not too steep. This was also a boon for those making Audio-Visual Presentations (AVPs) whose needs were not as elaborate as musicians, but needed the flexibility of simul-sync in order to control the balance of narration, music, and sound effects in a presentation. It is claimed that over one million TASCAM Portastudios (of various incarnations) have been sold since 1979. Several other companies released their own versions of the Portastudio, such as Fostex, Audio-Technica, Sansui, and Kenwood. The competition between these companies resulted in even cheaper and smaller units. 

The second major innovation was MIDI. In 1983, a consortium of electronic musical instrument companies published a standard for data transmission that would allow automated control, performance, and storage between digital music instruments and computers. This enabled musicians to compose, orchestrate and edit their work on a computer-based device known as a sequencer, and then perform the work by having the sequencer activate the corresponding digital instrument(s). The most popular digital instruments of the day, synthesizers and samplers,  had the capabilities of mimicking acoustic instruments. In many cases, this bypassed having to record many acoustic instruments via microphones, and in so doing, minimized the need to construct expensive acoustically controlled studios. This also minimized the need to hire large ensembles of players, as only one musician was needed to input the data of a work. The home studio had become the norm, and at one point threatened the existence of established recording studios. The only change was that some musician/producers moved out of their bedrooms, and into the living room or a vacant guest room to house the growing number of devices. 

The latest technological development is computer-based non-linear recording systems. Traditional tape-based analog recording may have allowed a musician/producer to add as many parts or tracks as could be accommodated in a multi-track tape. But once a performance was recorded on that tape, it took a complex procedure of technological gymnastics to shift the position and timing of one or more tracks in time. The personal computer changed all of that. By the 1990's, even modest personal computers could now record acoustic sounds using a microphone, and store it as digital data. So not only can a personal computer store and manipulate MIDI data, it can now do the same for digitally recorded sound. Software applications that could exploit this capability also appeared at a price that many musician/producers could afford. Today’s personal computers even have integrated music intruments such as synthesizers. So the computer-based home studio is now also called the “virtual” studio because music can be created without any sound from the “physical” world. 

Many current popular recordings are now a result of  hybrid production methods. Basic and/or virtual tracks can be created in artists’ home studios. This allows the artist to do work in comfortable surroundings, and with minimal time pressure. These basic tracks are then “laid-back” or transferred to professional studios for acoustic recording, refinement and post-production. This ensures the high technical quality demanded by commercial recording. 

THE EVOLUTION OF THE HOME STUDIO
As the cost of audio recording equipment went down in the 1980's, more and more musicians entered into the home studio fray. The period immediately following the EDSA uprising in 1986 saw a wealth of opportunities and spending in the entertainment and advertising industries, and Philippine musicians not about to let this opportunity slip by. Eager to get a piece of growing advertising and promotional budgets, some enterprising musicians put up low-cost home studios so they could lower their productions costs by not having to rent expensive professional studio time. As profits accumulated , “gear lust” (the desire to acquire an inordinate amount equipment beyond those  necessarily needed for basic tasks) resulted in a situation wherein the capabilities of home studios outgrew the personal needs of these musicians. The next evolutionary step was that many home studio owners began to offer their facilities to others for a fee. This added another source of income for the owner, on top of his/her own personal recording projects. While some moved out of their homes into existing commercial spaces such as warehouses and office condominiums, others did not move the studio outside of their homes, retaining the warmth and charm of a home environment. It was not uncommon for owners’ family members to develop close relationships with clients.

But for every home studio that successfully morphs into a commercial studio, a new home studio is born. A second wave of musicians’ home studios was about to provide solutions for a new set of music industry challenges. The Asian financial crisis of the late 1990's, coupled with the menace of media piracy, dealt the Philippine recording industry a serious blow. Rock and pop bands were the hardest hit by these reductions. After their heyday in the 1990's, their popularity had begun to wane by the year 2000. Because of this, production budgets for local band recordings shrank dramatically. The response of this still relatively young generation of musicians was to set up home studios so that they could record music without record company support, and market their recordings independently. Their home studios were made out from a wealth of equipment that band musicians had acquired in the course of their short but still hyperactive-active careers. The relatively high quality of these recordings were a testament to the availability, and affordability of computer music systems. These “indy” recordings provided some kind of relief for record companies because, for the time being, they no longer had to fund the recording of new artists. By the time record companies started signing up new artists, these existing “indy” recordings had already given the artists a small but loyal following. Building on these foundations, record companies ended up either just buying the rights to these home made recordings outright, or entering into distribution agreements. It is not an exaggeration to say that without home studios, the band scene in the Philippines might not have thrived as it continues to do today.

Modern popular music recordings demand not only an ever-increasing level of technical standards, but greater complexity in production strategies as well. In spite of the fact that the music industry is a multi-billion dollar industry worldwide, it depends as much on marginal, “alternative” artists as it does on big-name marque stars to cater to its diverse market. In the same way, the synergy between the professional studio and the home studio must exist to maintain cost-effectiveness and efficiency.

CASE STUDY: EJL RECORDING
One example of a home studio is EJL Recording Inc. In 1985, Eric Lava was living in a one-bedroom flat in his family compound at 6 Manigo St. In U.P. Village. Some musician friends, such as Juan Miguel Salvador of the then popular Rage band,  asked if they could use his living room to work on recording  demo and study tapes, because they had no private space in their own homes. In addition to the space, Eric also made available his keyboard synthesizer, a power amplifier and speakers. His friends brought in a small portable 4-track recorder and other equipment. Lava said he stayed up many nights watching and learning from them how recordings were done. Shortly after, he bought the 4-track recorder from Salvador, and started renting out the equipment and space. 

Later in 1985, I was approached by Eric Lava to help put together a recording system to be used in a low-budget recording project for Greg Caro and the U.P. Samaskom. I also had small home studios of my own, which satisfied my personal needs. But this particular project needed a system that neither of us could supply by ourselves, hence a combination of our resources became the viable option. So we fused our equipment, and shared operating chores for the duration of the project. My equipment included a 6-channel mixer, a power amplifier, a keyboard synthesizer, and a pair of dynamic microphones. Lava’s contribution was another keyboard synthesizer, guitars, and monitor speakers. We also borrowed a drum machine from Salvador, and another keyboard synthesizer from a friend of the client, Greg Caro.

While the project was exciting, it was not without a host of problems inherent with recording in a home.  One of the main problems was the lack of acoustic isolation. Much of the work was done outside of office hours, often into the late evening and early morning. The sound of the system could be heard not only outside the flat, but in the main house of the compound. Other family members in the main house complained about the sound in the late hours, and at one point threatened to shut down our operations. On the other hand, turning down the loudness made monitoring difficult because we could not accurately hear soft musical passages. Conversely, outside noises such as rain , car horns, doorbells and barking dogs would interrupt vocal recordings. Another problem was the lack of air-conditioning. Both we and the client would get uncomfortable during the mid-day heat. Still another problem was electrically induced. The lack of power line conditioning and proper grounding made the electrical current unstable. Florescent light fixtures and refrigerators easily introduced unpredictable hum and spikes into the recording equipment. These factors necessitated a myriad of compromises and remedies. In spite of these problems, we managed to complete the project in about a week, and the payment was divided between the two of us. 

Upon the completion of the project, Lava asked me if I wanted to continue renting out our fused system and services commercially. He had apparently been dared by one client to turn the otherwise informal activity in to his primary business. I declined because I  had already committed to a full-time career in teaching. But Lava became more and more enamored with the idea of putting up a full-blown studio. Several projects followed, still mostly demos and low budget recordings. There was a healthy market for a small, home based studio with low hourly rates and an informal ambience. Although the studio was not registered with the SEC, he opened a bank account under the name “Offline Audio”, which still exists today. In 1987, Lava took out a small loan from his father to purchase some needed equipment. He single-handedly handled the marketing, business, and technical operations of the studio. In the start, most of his clients were friends and acquaintances within a small circle of musician-friends. He also began taking on clients from the fields of advertising. 

In 1987, Eric and a couple of college friends in the media industry “gatecrashed” the Advertising Congress in Baguio City. While the main objective was to make search for new clients,  he met an old acquaintance, Anabel Marasigan, who was then the Advertising Director of Trebel Corporation. Back in Manila, Anabel asked Eric to participate in a large project to develop “minus-one” tapes for Trebel. Apparently, the Trebel president had set up a studio in his house to make the recordings, but noone in the company could run it. Also, the project entailed so much work, that Trebel needed to subcontract half of the work. So Eric simultaneously served as the technical consultant for the project, and a subcontractor using his own studio.

During this flurry of work and studio development, Eric married Anabel Marasigan on 28 May 1988. She resigned from Trebel, and was promptly appointed as the business and marketing manager of the Eric’s fledgling studio. She brought her own personal and professional network of clients and subcontractors, as her managerial experience to the mix. Eric got a another loan from his father (about PhP 50,000.00) so that he could buy equipment similar to that which Trebel had. The couple traveled to Hong Kong several times that year to purchase the equipment. 

By the end of the year, the studio had expanded their clients to include several local advertising agencies. Eric relates how advertising had become the boom industry of the time. The established Makati-based studios were so inundated with clients that work was literally “spilling out” to smaller studios like his in Quezon City. At this point, the couple undertook yet another expansion by the constructing an acoustically controlled studio adjacent to the flat, and converting the living room into an office/reception area. This was because the projects they were working on demanded a higher level of acoustic isolation, and the couple wanted to add more privacy to their living environment. They also took in additional staff because of the increased workload. 

But Eric sensed that the boom would not last forever. He decided to expand his services from merely equipment based, to include creative work. This was so that the money that would usually be spent on hiring a composer/arranger for a production could now go to him, and the company. Although he was a performing musician, he lacked experience in these areas. So he embarked on a process of self-study in musical theory. He was able to convince Anabel to give him compositional and arranging work within company produced projects. This eventually paid off when advertising budgets started contracting, and projects became less frequent. As time went by, more and more components of projects could be done in-house.

The next expansion in 1994 converted the couple’s bedroom into a vocal and post-production studio. This saw the addition of a pre-fabricated vocal booth, and their first computer, an Apple PowerMacintosh running Logic Audio software. The couple moved out of the flat, but into the main house of the complex. Thus the family’s presence in the studio was retained.

In 1998, the company negotiated to record the musical soundtrack for what was to be the movie “Rizal” produced by GMA Films. In preparation for this, EJL purchased more equipment, focused around another Apple PowerMacintosh running a Pro-Tools recording system.  The decision to go for a computer based system over an upgrade of their analog tape-based system had to do with maintenance. For example, analog tape machine heads deteriorate every time tape passes over them, much like sandpaper on a metal surface. This is not too much of an issue with consumer tape machines that are only used sporadically. But in a professional recording studio, which pulls thousands of feet of tape for 20 hours a day, the deterioration can be rather fast. Add to this the fact that replacement heads are available only from the manufacturer, either in Japan or the U.S.A. This makes analog tape maintenance an expensive proposition. On the other hand, the main component that wears out in a personal computer is the hard disk. Hard disks can easily be bought in most local computer shops, and at a cost much lower than a proprietary analog tape head. So in the long-term, a computer is cheaper to operate than an analog tape machine. There are a host of other advantages for digital systems, such as lower noise levels, non-linear editing, and non-destructive recording among others. This is not to say that analog tape systems don’t have their own share of strengths. But these apply to more esoteric recording situations than in mainstream commercial projects. This move paid off, not just because the success of the movie.  A growing number of clients had begun to experience the flexibility of digital systems, and were starting to prefer it for their projects. The shift to digital was timely because only a few other studios had switched yet. 

Given the computer-based technologies of EJL, IT technologies opened new opportunities for the company. EJL’s Quezon City location may be geographically close to most of the major advertising agencies in Makati and San Juan, but inconveniently remote due to traffic. So in cases where time is of the essence, EJL often sends audio files back and forth to clients via e-mail. The same is also true for clients coming from other regions in the Philippines. EJL can do location recording in the clients’ hometown, return to Quezon City for post-production, then e-mail the final recordings back to the client. 

While most of EJL’s clients have been locals, a few have come from other countries. Since the 1990's, many have been visiting foreigners who needed a studio for the duration of their stay. Their projects included recording indigenous Philippine musicians and performances, audio foreign-language tapes, and demos for songs destined for the international market. Lava is still surprised by the fact that the main reason they found EJL was simply due to his placement in the PLDT Yellow Pages. But some recent projects were landed from EJL’s presence on the internet. Lava is an active member of KATHA (Katipunan ng mga May-Akdang Taal na Himig at Awit), and is subscribed to the organization’s e-group. The most recent project which resulted from this association with KATHA involved production music for a corporate presentation of the CITICORP Asia regional headquarters in Singapore. The entire project was run electronically via the internet. First, negotiations were made via e-mail. Demos, as well as the final version of the music were sent via the internet on MP3 format. The payment was made via an electronic bank-to-bank transaction. 

In 2002, EJL began construction of a new home/studio complex in Teachers Village, Quezon City. Construction was completed in early-2003, and operations began shortly after. The compound had two main structures. The front structure contained the studio complex, with two audio control rooms, one large studio floor, a vocal booth, two post production rooms, a reception area, and offices. The rear structure contained a four-bedroom home. A major upheaval occurred with Anabel Lava’s sudden untimely death in December 2003. A reorganization followed, with Eric Lava once more having to run the company single-handedly. 

SUMMARY AND ANALYSIS
Home studios are usually established for three major reasons, all of which contrast with the dedicated commercial studio. First it provides a cost-effective facility where musicians can create preparatory/experimental/demo recordings. Second, it is a low-cost alternative when the technical requirements are not too demanding or critical. Lastly, the home environment lends a cozy atmosphere for the owner/musician. But as the home studio expands, it has to approached as a business because of the escalating costs of maintenance and the need for equipment acquisitions. At this point, the owner is confronted by a crossroad. Continued expansion often leads to relocation outside of the home environment due to the need for separating the privacy of domestic life, and public nature of business activities. The facility therefore ceases to be a home studio in the strictest sense, and loses at least one of its main appealing characteristics. On the other hand, a precious few home studios  manage a delicate balancing act. They must somehow retain the casual and comfortable nature of the home, but impose the formality and discipline needed by business transactions. 

EJL has managed to achieve the latter successfully. It has taken full advantage of the tools and processes that has been made available in this interesting age of low to medium priced recording equipment. It first utilized semi-professional equipment, then MIDI, then Computer-based audio and information systems, at the right moment when the costs benefitted not only the company, but the clients as well. It also projected the company as a home-based organization by not only maintaining the studio and home in the same complex, but by involving members of the nuclear and extended Lava family in capitalization and operations. In short, it has blended the exploitation of tools and processes, the conventional discipline of business, and the organizational comfort of the home. 


SOURCES:

______. “Tascam Company History”. (12 March 2005).

Jones, Roger Bishop . “MIDI History”. (12 March 2005).

Eric Lava, Interview by Robin Daniel Z. Rivera. 29 December 2004.