Book Review: Mixerman
Over the past several months I’ve been thinking about the lawyer’s role in service – client service, societal service, service to the law—and have picked up a number of memoir-type books, including one called Zen and the Art of Mixing by a music engineer who goes by Mixerman. I don’t have any specific knowledge or comprehension of the mixer’s job, and I didn’t even really read the more technical sections of this book, but the way Mixerman writes about his job brought up issues relevant to my job as a lawyer building a relationship-based service practice.
In music production, the “mixer” is the person who takes all the recorded parts and compiles them into a “mix” that presents the music to us listeners. For instance, a song may have a lead singer and three backup singers, each recording a part through a microphone; the mixer is the person who will adjust character of each part, along with all the other instruments, so that the backup singers blend together and the lead singer stands out. If you get, say, dozens of parts recorded over a period of time and in different places, it becomes clear how involved the mixer’s role can be. The mixer, as Mixerman says, has a tangible role in the way a song affects people.
Writing as a service professional, Mixerman does a great job describing the dialectic at the heart of his work, which happens between the details and standards of his trade and the professional obligation to serve his clients; the tension inherent in trying to make the best mix possible on projects for complicated clients who have their own spectrum of interests and priorities.
It’s not too much of a stretch to see great tips for lawyers who face the same tension between trying to produce great work product while serving a set of client goals.
Regarding work product, Mixerman counsels the mixer to “be aggressive,” that is, to really own your mixes. He does a nice job of describing the plurality of external interests in his work. The guitar player wants to be louder than the singer; the producer has other concerns; the label has other concerns; the singer’s girlfriend has something to say … so it’s important for the mixer to have a strong understanding of the parts and a sense of what the song needs to sound like. All the same, he points out that the mixer is not there to vote or take sides, but to put together a killer mix.
Mixerman dissuades mixers from trying to placate everyone involved by accommodating every part: “Putting everything proportional in a mix is going to make for a shitty mix”; “If a mix does not somehow annoy someone in the room, the mix likely isn’t done.” He also advises mixers to establish your professional space firmly, and to claim your authority over the control room.
He has an intuitive test for good work product – when a mixer’s work is good, you can’t help but sing the song. The mixer’s first duty is to bring out the best in the song, and he tries to shape it so listeners respond to it physically. That is, the mixer shapes the way the song functions. Maybe a lawyer does something similar by negotiating and drafting a document in a way that clarifies and facilitates a complex business relationship.
Mixerman has especially fine insights into working with clients. Overall he has a compassionate view of the artist’s attachment to the production – the mixer is part of the team that serves the song, and the song is somebody else’s “creative child.” A sense of priority or nurturing the client is easy to lose when you have a good deal of professional authority, but Mixerman, a musician himself, keeps perspective. He understands his role as a service provider: “the most effective way to help someone feel like they’re important is to actually treat them that way.”
Mixers listen to their clients and translate intuitive descriptions and suggestions about the music into technical work product.
Mixers shouldn’t take on work that they don’t understand or vibe with on a musical level, or that’s just bad. “If a song sucks, the mix is irrelevant.” That is, your good work is wasted on a bad project.
Mixers shouldn’t take on work for problem clients. “It’s not who you know in this business – it’s who you avoid.”
Mixerman advises mixers to bill for their skill, not for their time.
He also has a great tip for dealing with a band. He pays attention to the car the band takes to the studio. If it’s the guitar player’s car, and the drummer sits on the passenger side, he’ll mix the guitar on the left and the drums on the right, so on the car ride back they will each think they’re featured in the mix.
As an artist who moved into a legal career, I’d say this book is instructive for people who have moved into the legal service profession from technical or intellectual endeavors that aren’t necessarily client-facing.
In the vein of books about work and service, let me close by noting the following recent books:
Danica Roem, Burn the Page. A joyous, horns-throwing memoir by your favorite metal AF journalist trans Congresswoman stepmom.
Derek DelGaudio, Amoralman. A deliberately ambivalent book about an aimless talent finding an uncomfortable spot with a shady hustle.
This Woman’s Work: Essays on Music. A collection of essays that end up centering on a kind of soul and honor among a great community of perpetual underdogs, women in music.
John Urschel, Mind and Matter. A memoir by an intense, nerdy guy who became an MIT mathematician by way of playing offensive lineman for the Baltimore Ravens. A great read written with his wife, Louisa Thomas, who’s a staff writer at the New Yorker.