lo-fi
There's something special about recording at home. At home you get accidents. I feel like observers miss the point when they peg lo-fi artists as lackadaisical and apathetic; what people don't get is that the lo-fi recording choice is a conscious reaction to the unwritten rules of the music biz. Why is it that musicians are the only artists who have to travel to a fortress of machines to do their work?
I wouldn't like everything to have poor production, but there are very few studio albums that can capture loneliness. There're exceptions, like Big Star's 3rd, but it's rare, because when everything's in a studio, you know that it's bankrolled by someone with business interests. When it's music by someone at home, it's an artifact from someone who, lacking money or connections or whatever, has no other outlet. However, there's a romance of distance inherent in the pleasure of lo-fi recordings.
I don't want to call it laziness, but -- and this might be a rationalization -- I can think of so many different songs where I would listen for the mistake. Whether it's on "The Girl from the North Country," on Nashville Skyline [by Bob Dylan]. Or there's a Replacements song on Pleased to Meet Me where Paul Westerberg screams, "What are you gonna do with your life?" and Tommy [Stinson, bassist] says, "Absolutely nothing!" And you can hear Paul Westerberg laugh, and he drops his tambourine. There's lots of little mistakes like that, which I like. That's charisma, that's personality. It's not scripted. There's enough music that's choreographed.
I wouldn't like everything to have poor production, but there are very few studio albums that can capture loneliness. There're exceptions, like Big Star's 3rd, but it's rare, because when everything's in a studio, you know that it's bankrolled by someone with business interests. When it's music by someone at home, it's an artifact from someone who, lacking money or connections or whatever, has no other outlet. However, there's a romance of distance inherent in the pleasure of lo-fi recordings.
I don't want to call it laziness, but -- and this might be a rationalization -- I can think of so many different songs where I would listen for the mistake. Whether it's on "The Girl from the North Country," on Nashville Skyline [by Bob Dylan]. Or there's a Replacements song on Pleased to Meet Me where Paul Westerberg screams, "What are you gonna do with your life?" and Tommy [Stinson, bassist] says, "Absolutely nothing!" And you can hear Paul Westerberg laugh, and he drops his tambourine. There's lots of little mistakes like that, which I like. That's charisma, that's personality. It's not scripted. There's enough music that's choreographed.