11 minute read
Muscian to Musician
BY COLIN MCGUIRE
Special to The News-Post
He owns one of the most popular recording studios in the area, Mystery Ton Studios in Monrovia, and he also plays guitar in one of Frederick’s (kind of) prog, (kind of) rock outfits, Time Columns. He also collaborated with me on Frederick One Take, an FNP-backed web series that featured local artists performing and being interviewed on a monthly basis (find those episodes on YouTube!). As I sat down with Kenny Eaton for our chat, a lot was on my mind, including the current status of Time Columns, how his studio fared during the COVID-19 pandemic, what inspires him to keep playing music and, of course, if he intends to run Mystery Ton forever. The answers, as you’ll find, are as follows.
First, I don’t want to bury the lede. I was talking to Jordan [Miller] about two months ago and he told me you guys are a two-piece again?
That’s right.
So, you can confirm?
Allegedly, yeah.
So, what happened?
A lot of sex, tons of drugs, extremely violent. Some international trafficking laws [laughs]. No, you grow in different directions and motivations change and Stefan [Sandman] is killing it in Half Heard Voices. I’m personally really good friends with him. We’re all really good friends, still. It’s just that sort of thing.
How much does that change the band? I ask because when I played with Joe [Jalette, in DoubleMotorcycle], there was a big difference between when it was just the two of us and when we invited other people in. Have just you and Jordan had a chance to play with just you and Jordan?
Not a ton. The workflow is kind of changing. The thing with Jordan and I is that we’re both similar in that we’re maniacs about other things. I think both of us were maniacs about the band for a while, at the same time, and now, he’s really into film and I’m really into running a studio. So, we’re both kind of doing our own things while the band is its own thing right now. We have a record we’ve been working on that’s pretty much done, but that will come out when it’s ready.
Yeah, it’s been five, six years!
[Laughs]. The record’s basically done. I’m sick of talking about it.
I’m not even going to ask you about it. I’ve asked you about it too much through the years.
Good.
Stefan’s on the record?
Yeah, and he killed it, too. Honestly, without getting too much into it, music should be something you have fun doing, and it shouldn’t be this thing where you have all these expectations, like, “Bro, when’s your record going to come out?” I play music because it’s fun and it makes me feel good, period. So, when it comes out, it’ll come out. ... Well, it’s fun with a giant asterisk next to it. Like, some people chill and watch a movie, and to me, it’s a different kind of fun. It’s not easy pleasure. It’s overcoming a challenge, and doing something difficult is fun sometimes.
Right. We got to a place where we kind of said, “If we ever end up writing music again, that’s just because we want to. There’s no need to go play out and do all of the things that go along with it.” It kind of sounds like that’s where you are with it, like you don’t even care if Time Columns ever plays out again.
Oh, no, I do! I love that. I think it’s awesome and fun and I’d really like to do that. I think it’s OK to make music whatever you want it to be within healthy parameters. Music is my career, but that’s from running a recording studio. Whereas, if you want to make your career being in a band, working your butt off, playing shows and pushing it and doing an album a year and practicing all the time ... I did that for a while and it was awesome and it was fun, but it’s not the only way it has to be done. You can have your own relationship with music, and being in a band and it can be whatever you want Kenny Eaton adjusts cables in his recording studio, Mystery Ton Studios, in Monrovia on July 25.
it to be. So, that relationship for me right now is changing, and it’s hitting a new stride. I’m reconnecting with it in a different way. I don’t have to go out and play shows all the time or have a release plan for this record. Also, there’s a very healthy dose of, “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
When we talked before, you said you were going to shop the record. Are you still going to do that?
Yes.
So, you do take it seriously!
Of course! Yeah. That’s part of the fun.
Do you have a writing process with Jordan?
It’s very strange right now because we wrote three bangers — three brand new songs that are some of my favorite material we’ve done. It’s just really fast and simple, and I really like the style of it. It’s minimal in terms of how the guitars are layered, but the way the minimal layers are interacting are pretty complicated, so I like the idea of small amounts of pieces making something that’s larger than the sum of its parts. I feel that in the past, I’ve been guilty of writing via quantity. I’d be like, “Here’s the part,” and then put eight guitar parts on top of it, and now
Staff photos by Katina Zentz
it’s cool because it’s just kind of it. It’s a severe way of looking at it, but if you can write a part that’s two guitar tracks in Pro Tools and it works for you, that’s cool. That’s the way it feels for me.
How often do you talk to Jordan?
Not a ton. We’re going to see Rage Against The Machine in a week or two. We’re excited for that.
How did everything go for you during COVID? Did you get a lot of clients?
I shut the business down for a while because early on, we didn’t really know a lot about it. There was some stuff where it was like, “Singing is one of the most dangerous activities,” so it just wasn’t going to happen.
How did you survive that?
Unemployment. I did occasional mixing here and there, too. It also gave me time to figure out how to run a studio. Actually, what I do now is I have the studio set up with social distancing in mind. The live room has its own Pro Tools feed and set of monitors, so you can crank up the monitors or literally just follow along. Now that COVID is more under control, it’s actually a better workflow because you get to spread out and you don’t have to look over my shoulder all day. You get your own space. You could lay down on the couch and turn the lights off. It’s an awesome place to work. I love it. At first, it was like, “Holy s—, what am I going to do?” But it turned into something so much better than what it was. I’m now actually building a mixing/ mastering suite at home, so I can work on just mixing and mastering at home and then rent the studio out to other engineers. Because when I’m mixing a record, there’s a quarter-million-dollars of mics not being used, and that’s kind of dumb. So, it’s nice to open up those resources to other people.
Did the COVID thing ultimately allow you to say, “I want to perfect something I was already good at”? Did it give you the time and space to, say, tinker with different mics?
Kind of. I remember I was very lucky in that I had a few huge mixing projects I had to do right when COVID hit. But then I remember whenever I listen back to those three records, I would come in and be like, “OK, the world’s falling apart; let’s go mix these drums! That snare’s too dark; I wonder if it should be brighter!” And meanwhile, the news was like, “New cases! People are dying!” So, it made me wonder, “Is this [what] I should be doing right now? Like, what am I doing?” The world was falling apart, and I was like, this is so surreal. It’s funny because I think I can hear it in those mixes. I was taking all my anxiety and pouring it into these mixes. It was tech-y and metal, like Between The Buried And Me kind of stuff. It was a lot of detailed work, and I poured myself into it. It turned out really great, but not a pleasant time.
Music is something that can get you through a lot, whether engineering or playing it or whatever. Did you end up connecting with any records throughout the pandemic that helped you?
Oh, that’s a good question. I got into distance running. In silence.
Really? I can’t run unless I’m listening to something.
Oh, I have to have silence. Then, when I lift, it’s all podcasts.
You don’t even like music anymore, do you?
[Laughs] I love music. Music is like a practice to me. I could talk about that all day, but nobody would probably give a s—. Kenny Eaton working on a mix in his studio.
Is it something where you want to just constantly get better at it and try to master it?
Kind of, yeah. But there’s a calmness I get from improving at all of it. It’s not necessarily something where I’m like, “Let’s relax and listen to music.” But also, if I go a certain time not working or listening to music, I start freaking out. It’s like an input in my circuit, and if there’s not a certain amount, everything starts freaking out.
You know, I found this out about myself. I feel like the best version of myself is when I fall back in love with music.
That’s a great quote. That’s a really great quote.
I go months without listening to music. It’s all podcasts. But then maybe I’ll find a record once every few months and I’m like, “Yeah!” I feel good about life and everything, really. Are you that way, too?
Yeah, I think I get really obsessive with the bands who make you want to go play.
Yeah, I’m like that with drummers. If I hear a good drummer, I’m like, “Ohhh, now I have to go play. I haven’t played drums in eight months, but I need to get out there now.”
Sure, yeah. I think there’s this really unhealthy thing, too, that I’m trying to work on. Do you ever listen to bands, and you’re like, “I’ll never be as good as that?”
Yes, all the time.
I hate that! That sucks! I hate thinking like that. I hate seeing people thinking like that.
I love that feeling, personally, when I see a band live and I’m like, “Holy f—.”
No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying when you see a band and they make you feel bad.
I’m not saying feeling bad bad. I’m just saying it’s exciting to see someone and say, “I’ll never be that good.”
Oh, I love seeing a band and getting stoked on it. I think there are different kinds. When I see Animals as Leaders, I’m like, “No way I’m ever going to play guitar like that, but I want to go play guitar right now.”
Exactly. I think that’s what we’re both trying to say.
There are some levels of genius, where you know it’s so clever and it’s not just like they went and practiced their instruments their entire lives, but also, like, their particular level of cleverness is just genius. It’s not just raw shredding.
Then there are things that only you can pick up on personally. It’s like only someone who has the same ear or tastes or feelings about music as you do can hear it in that way. It feels so singular and so connecting.
Sure. I think that part’s healthy. I think it’s also because of what I do for a living. I see really exposed musicians in the studio just grinding, trying to get a sound, and I say, “Man, that was a great take,” and they’re like, “Nah, that’s not what we want.” Sometimes, there’s this imposter syndrome where people want things to sound like other records. When someone asks, “Hey, can you make it sound like this,” or when someone comes in and asks if they can sound like old Nirvana, you have to tell them they have to play live, and then there’s (See EATON 23)
