Be Right Here is the Atlanta rock outfit’s eighth record. 23 years into their career, they’re as sure as ever that this music matters.
To some, Americana is a fashion or aesthetic. To others, it’s a music genre. Many also relate it to film. The thing that ties them all together is an emphasis on authenticity and heritage. Americana, in any form, takes the country’s roots and brings them to the people in an honest, reverent way. In that sense, Blackberry Smoke’s latest vintage-gear-fueled release, Be Right Here, is Americana at its finest.
Like the band, the album is a mix of just about every uniquely American musical genre wrapped into one. From the mountain-country calm of “Azalea” to “Watchu Know Good”’s smokey barroom groove, Blackberry Smoke is what happens when real musicians tell authentic stories through great songs.
Listening to lead vocalist/guitarist Charlie Starr and guitarist Paul Jackson name-check their influences, it’s apparent where they got their versatile yet classic sound. For Jackson, it was simple.
“My dad asked me, ‘Do you want to hear something really cool?’” he remembers. “He put on Chuck Berry, and that was that for me. I got turned on.”
“I grew up playing bluegrass and gospel and traditional country music with my dad,” Starr adds. “But my mom liked the Stones, the Beatles, and Bob Dylan. He says these influences and Jackson’s high-pitched vocal ability brought the two together over two decades ago.
“I remember hearing [Ratt’s] Out of the Cellar for the first time, which is something that me and Paul really bond on, and we were playing the same honky-tonks and little bars around West Georgia and East Alabama,” Starr continues. When he moved to Atlanta, he met brothers Brit and Richard Turner, who would become Blackberry Smoke’s drummer and bassist.“I had started writing some songs coming from bluegrass and southern rock music and was like, ‘Well, we need another guitar player, and we need somebody who can sing high.’ Harmony is very important, but the only bands that could sing around there were my band and Paul’s bands,” Starr chuckles. “I called Paul and was like, ‘I don’t know what you’re doing, but we’re putting this band together. Would you like to be in it?’”
“That was that, and here we are,” Jackson laughs, “23 years later.”
Since then, Blackberry Smoke—which also includes Brandon Still (keyboards), Preston Holcomb (percussion), and Benji Shanks (guitar)—has taken their music around the world, garnering fans and critical acclaim. Starr’s bluegrass-meets-southern rock sound has also grown to embrace the best elements of blues, country, soul, jazz, and R&B. These genres share a traditional heritage, one that comes from the Southern states Blackberry Smoke calls home.
“My dad asked me, ‘Do you want to hear something really cool?’ He put on Chuck Berry, and that was that for me.” —Paul Jackson
Blackberry Smoke’s music is definitely a kind of stylistic and cultural gumbo. But, according to Starr and Jackson, the recipe only comes together because of the players that make up the band. “It’s the way that people play their instruments and the way that they express themselves, all seven of us,” says Starr. “You get the way that the instruments are being played and then the way that it’s all glued together. That’s where two decades of playing together comes into it. It’s like a football team where everybody’s moving and working toward the same goal.”
Be Right Here, Blackberry Smoke’s eighth album, was recorded live off the floor by Dave Cobb, who wanted to capture the band as they learned the songs.
Be Right Here embodies that human element better than, perhaps, any of the band’s previous work. Together with producer Dave Cobb, they took their already honest approach to writing and recording and stripped it back even further, tracking right off the live room floor. While there may have been some initial hesitations, Starr said the process soon proved its value.
“I had my doubts at first, but he had already done it. I think just previously, he had made Slash and Myles Kennedy’s newest record that way. He just said, ‘I want everything in the room and everybody in the room.’ There’s some bleed, but it was really about the feel, and he was right.”
“That’s where two decades of playing together comes into it. It’s like a football team where everybody’s moving and working toward the same goal.” —Charlie Starr
That “feel” dominates the record. From the greasy riffs of lead track “Dig a Hole,” the guitars are loose, raw, and packed with attitude, just like the classic records of rock’s heyday. That’s no accident.
“Dave’s coming from that ’60s recording mentality,” explained Starr. “He doesn’t allow a click or auto-tune. It’s all analog. That’s his MO. And if you think about it, we all spend every waking hour in the studio chasing records that were made in the ’60s and ’70s, because it sounds so good. Especially as guitar players and instrumentalists, it’s like, man, that’s the pure drop right there! It’s the way that Neve consoles and Neumann microphones make music sound.”
Charlie Starr's Gear
Starr and Jackson usually drop off a truckload of high-wattage amps at the studio when they record, but Cobb encouraged them to keep things small and simple.
Photo by Steve Kalinsky
Guitars
- 1964 Gibson ES-335
- 1957 Gibson Les Paul Junior
- 1963 Fender Esquire
- 1958 Fender Telecaster
- 1965 Gibson ES-330
Shared Acoustics:
- 1950 Martin D-28
- 1953 Martin D-18
- 1946 Martin 000-18
- 1955 Gibson J-45
Amps
- 1964 Fender Champ
- 1950s–’60s Supro Super
- 1950s Fender Custom Champ (modified to Dumble spec)
Effects
- 1990s Menatone Red Snapper
- Vintage MXR Phase 45
- Vintage Maestro EP-3 Echoplex
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario (.010–.046)
- Blue Chip picks (acoustic)
- InTune picks (electric)
Tracking live through classic studio gear wasn’t the only way Cobb and the band changed things for the new record. Much to Starr’s surprise, Cobb also wanted the band to come in fresh—as in, not-having-heard-the-songs-before fresh. Starr remembered Cobb saying, “Hey, man, don’t send demos of the songs to the guys this time. Don’t even play the songs yet. I want you to sit in the studio, get the guitar, and say, ‘The song goes like this.’ I want to capture the first thing that people play when we start to roll tape. That’s usually the best.
”As a result, often what you hear on Be Right Here is the sound of seven talented musicians playing off each other and reacting to the music in real-time like only a band of musical brothers can. Not even the band’s gear escaped Cobb’s less-is-more approach. Jackson and Starr, both diehard vintage-gear collectors, are well known for using Marshall and Marshall-style heads and cabinets. But Starr said the amps hardly got any use in the studio.
“If you think about it, we all spend every waking hour in the studio chasing records that were made in the ’60s and ’70s, because it sounds so good.” —Charlie Starr
“Over the last 20 years, you know, we’ll go to make a record, and then it’s like, ‘Oh, I can’t wait to take this Plexi to the studio,’ or, ‘I got this new Bandmaster I can’t wait to take in,’” he explains. “We’ll literally bring a truck full of shit. And Dave’s got a whole studio full of shit. But Dave called and said, ‘Hey, call Benji and Paul and tell them not to bring any amp bigger than a 10" speaker. Let’s make a funky little amp record.’”
“And, believe it or not, I used just two amps on this record,” adds Jackson. “They just sounded great. I was on the verge of just using one, my Gibson Lancer. It’s a ’59. I used it for most of the record. Then, I think, on the last two songs, it took a dump on me, and I used Dave’s ’58 or ’59 Rickenbacker amp for the last songs.”
Starr kept his recording rig just as streamlined. On almost every song, you can hear him play through a 1964 black-panel Fender Champ, with a few cameos from a Supro Super. But the holy grail turned out to be a 1950s Fender Custom Champ, which had some particularly special magic.
Paul Jackson's Gear
Guitarist Paul Jackson says the best solos ought to sound like you’re singing.
Photo by Jordi Vidal
Guitars
- 1960 Gibson ES-335 (owned by Dave Cobb)
- Gibson 40th Anniversary Les Paul
- 1979 Gibson Les Paul Standard
Amps
- 1958–’59 Rickenbacker combo
- 1959 Gibson GA-6 Lancer
Effects
- Neo Instruments Ventilator
Strings & Picks
- D’Addario (.010–.046)
- InTune picks
“Dave actually had an email from Dumble that he showed me. He’s like, ‘This is the advice that I got from Dumble on what to do with your Champs and Princetons.’ I can’t tell anyone what it said. It’s a Dave Cobb, Howard Dumble secret. But it was a speaker trick. Our tech was out there with his soldering iron, like a crazy professor, modding these vintage amps on the live room floor.” The unmistakable tweed grit on “Don’t Mind If I Do” is just one of the stellar guitar tones that drive Be Right Here.
Both Jackson and Starr managed to work a few of their favorite pedals into the sessions as well. “I actually fell in love with this pedal that Dave had called a Red Snapper by Menatone,” Starr says. “It was a mid-’90s pedal. I was like, ‘Dude, that is great! I got to have one of those.’ It’s Klon-ish but a little brighter, actually. And you were using a [Neo Instruments] Ventilator for the solo for ‘A Little Bit Crazy.’ Isn’t that what it is?” Jackson confirms. “The chase never ends, does it?” Starr continues. “You can’t help it.”
“The way I look at it is, we’re singers anyway. When we play guitar, the vocal comes through the guitar.” —Paul Jackson
There are delicious tones to be found on every song, and getting those tones was a journey in itself. Because of their tracking process, each sound had to fit the whole and perfectly translate the songs’ meanings. Cobb and the band understood this, and as Starr explains, they took their time dialing things in one chord stab at a time. “For each song, [Dave would] plug in a little amp, and you’d hit a G chord. He’s like, ‘No.’ Then it’s like, ‘Okay, how about this little Super amp?’ He’d be like, ‘No.’ Then you land on the one, and he goes, ‘That’s it!’ He would do that with every person in the band.”
“That chase is the fun part to me,” adds Jackson. “When you’re in a room with a bunch of guys and trying to find that sound, it’s exciting. I could sit there all day and just listen and watch.”
Photo by Andy Sapp
Southern rock revivalists Blackberry Smoke have been going strong for 23 years, and guitarists Charlie Starr and Paul Jackson say they have no intentions of slowing down.
While both Starr and Jackson put many of their vintage instruments to work during those sessions, Jackson spent a lot of time working one of Cobb’s prized 6-strings. “I mainly used Dave’s blonde ES-335,” he says. “He said it was a late ’50s or early ’60s. I fell in love with that. I used it for most of the tracking.” Jackson also turned to his black 40th Anniversary Les Paul and a ’79 Standard Les Paul, but the 335 won the day.
Starr relied on his personal arsenal of old-school Gibsons and Fenders, including a 1964 ES-335, a ’65 ES-330, a ’57 Les Paul Junior, a ’63 Esquire, and a ’58 Telecaster. Of course, great songwriters are never far from their favorite acoustic guitars, and Blackberry Smoke gets the most out of a prized collection that includes a 1950 Martin D-28, a ’53 D-18, a ’46 000-18, and a 1955 Gibson J-45.
“I called Paul and was like, ‘I don’t know what you’re doing, but we’re putting this band together. Would you like to be in it?’” —Charlie Starr
The band’s gear and tones are likely enough to make most Premier Guitar readers misty-eyed. To Starr and Jackson, though, they are a means to an end. To them, it’s still all about the songs and the emotions. This goes double for their approach to solos, of which there are plenty on the new LP.
“When I’m putting together a solo for a song, the best place to start is the melody of the vocal,” explains Starr. “Then just expand on that. I mean, when you’ve played with traditional bluegrass guys, if you came in there playing a solo on ‘Faded Love,’ and you aren’t playing the melody, they’d be like, ‘What the hell are you playing? You’re not playing the song!’”
“The way I look at it,” Jackson adds, “is we’re singers anyway. When we play guitar, the vocal comes through the guitar. That’s what gets me on solos. I could rip at home and do that by myself. I’m not worried about that. It’s about the songwriting, and when I hear Charlie throw something out there, it just works.”
The duo agrees that rhythm is 90 percent of a guitarist’s gig, which is why they complement each other’s rhythm styles perfectly. Even on straight-up rockers like “Hammer and the Nail,” the two fill the space with a combination of powerful chords, punctuating slide flourishes, and Stones-like juxtaposition. Starr admits that it’s something they’ve worked on since day one.
“Paul and I, in the early days of the band, had talked about not doing the same exact thing and how it’s so interesting for a two-guitar band. Think about it: When we were young, and we listened to Highway to Hell, you would turn the balance left and right [on the stereo] and get Malcolm on the left and Angus on the right. It was always a little different. Even Appetite for Destruction. That’s an even better example of how Izzy and Slash played totally different parts. That’s what Keith Richards and Ron Wood talk about, taking these different parts and making something greater.”
Blackberry Smoke’s 23-year career shows how far you can go with a handful of chords and the honest truth. Through rock’s attitude, blues’ swagger, bluegrass’ melodicism, and soul’s sensuality, they keep creating records that resonate with fans worldwide.
Yet in the modern music age of algorithms and AI, you have to ask: What keeps them going? Why crank old guitars into tube amps after all these years? The romantic answer is, “the song.” The more practical answer—and every bit as true—is that they simply have to.
“It’s an addiction,” says Starr. “Look at the Stones. They’re 80. They can’t stop.”
“Exactly,” agrees Jackson. “It’s still exciting.”
YouTube It
Blackberry Smoke takes a soulful ramble through their hit, “One Horse Town,” live in Atlanta back in 2019.
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With a few clicks on Reverb, a reptile-inspired shred machine was born.
With this guitar, I wanted to create a shadowbox-type vibe by adding something you could see inside. I have always loved the Yamaha Pacifica guitars because of the open pickup cavity and the light weight, so I purchased this body off Reverb (I think I am addicted to that website). I also wanted a color that was vivid and bold. The seller had already painted it neon yellow, so when I read in the description, “You can see this body from space,” I immediately clicked the Buy It Now button. I also purchased the neck and pickups off of Reverb.
I have always loved the reverse headstock, simply because nothing says 1987 (the best year in the history of the world) like a reverse headstock. The pickups are both Seymour Duncan—an SH-1N in the neck position and TB-4 in the bridge, both in a very cool lime green color. Right when these pickups got listed, the Buy It Now button once again lit up like the Fourth of July. I am a loyal disciple of Sperzel locking tuners and think Bob Sperzel was a pure genius, so I knew those were going on this project even before I started on it. I also knew that I wanted a Vega-Trem; those units are absolutely amazing.
When the body arrived, I thought it would be cool to do some kind of burst around the yellow so I went with a neon green. It turned out better than I imagined. Next up was the shaping and cutting of the pickguard. I had this crocodile-type, faux-leather material that I glued on the pickguard and then shaped to my liking. I wanted just a single volume control and no tone knob, because, like King Edward (Van Halen) once said, “Your volume is your tone.”
T. Moody
I then shaped and glued the faux-leather material in the cavity. The tuning knobs, volume knob, pickguard, screws, and selector switch were also painted in the lemon-lime paint scheme. I put everything together, installed the pickups, strung it up, set it up, plugged it in, and I was blown away. I think this is the best-playing and -sounding guitar I have ever tried.
The only thing missing was the center piece and strap. The latter was easy because DiMarzio makes their ClipLock in neon green. The center piece was more difficult because originally, I was thinking that some kind of gator-style decoration would be cool. In the end, I went with a green snake, because crocodiles ain’t too flexible—and they’re way too big to fit in a pickup cavity!
The Green Snake’s back is just as striking as the front.
A flea-market find gave our Wizard of Odd years of squealing, garage-rock bliss in his university days.
Recently, I was touring college campuses with my daughter because she’s about to take the next step in her journey. Looking back, I’ve been writing this column for close to 10 years! When I started, my kids were both small, and now they’re all in high school, with my oldest about to move out. I’m pretty sure she’s going to choose the same university that I attended, which is really funny because she’s so much like me that the decision would be totally on point.
The campus looks way nicer than it did back in the ’90s, but there are similarities, like bars, shops, and record stores. Man, our visit took me back to when I was there, which was the last time I was active in bands. Many crash-and-burn groups came and went, and it was then that I started to collect cheap guitars, mainly because it was all I could afford at the time, and there were a lot of guitars to find.
In that era, I was using an old Harmony H420 amp (made by Valco), a Univox Super Fuzz, and whatever guitar I was digging at the time. I was so proud to pull out oddball guitars during shows and just have this totally trashy sound. Squealing and squeaking and noisy as heck, my style was reminiscent of Davie Allan, Ron Asheton, and Chuck Berry. Of course, I was way worse than all of them, but I did have a frenetic energy and I covered up my lack of skill with feedback. During the ’90s, there was a great punk revival, and I loved bands like the Mummies, Teengenerate, the Makers, the New Bomb Turks, and a bunch of others. Bands were embracing lo-fi, and I was planted firmly in that vein. Plus, the guitars I liked to use already sounded lo-fi.
“This was about the trashiest-sounding guitar, but in a good way!”
For a short spell I was using this Greco guitar and, man, this was about the trashiest-sounding guitar, but in a good way! See, Fujigen pickups (like the ones here) have this echoey voice that I describe as an “empty beer can” sound. My Super Fuzz would just destroy these pickups, and I wish I had some recordings from that era, because it was a real scene! I believe this Greco was a flea-market find but it was much later that I found out it was called a Greco Model 912. This was actually a copy of a German-made Framus guitar, but with a lot more glitz and a crazier headstock. Four pickup selector switches, volume/tone knobs, and a rhythm/lead switch rounded out the electronics. Again, these pickups are instant spaghetti-Western movie tone. Airy and bright, the bridge area is like instant, gnarly surf music. Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine has a similar guitar and John Barrett of Bass Drum of Death was also fond of these pickups. Interestingly enough, these particular Grecos were made in small numbers, ranging between 500 to 600 in total (including all pickup combinations).
The Greco brand was initially owned by the U.S.-based Goya Corporation, but in the late 1960s, Fujigen bought the brand name (for $1,000) and produced a few truly gonzo guitars, including this Model 912. Originally called the GE-4, the four-pickup version sold for $99.50 in 1967. My particular 912 was sold at Sid Kleiner Guitar Studios in Califon, New Jersey (which I learned thanks to the attached store sticker on the headstock).
Aside from the chrome coolness and the four pickups, this model featured a cute little flip-up bridge mute that was all the rage at the time. The body also had some tasteful German carvings around the edges, and as I write this, I am missing this guitar tremendously! But not even close to the way I’m going to miss my girl in a few months. At least I know that she can shop at the same record stores!
Looking for new fuel for your sound and songs? Nashville’s Kevin Gordon found both in exploring traditional blues tunings and their variations.
I first heard open guitar tunings while in college, from older players who’d become friends or mentors, and from various artists playing at the Delta Blues Festival in the early mid-’80s, which was held in a fallow field in Freedom Village, Mississippi—whose topographical limits likely did not extend beyond said field.
I remember Jessie Mae Hemphill wearing a full-length leopard-print coat and black cowboy hat in the September heat, walking through the crowd selling 45s, and James “Son” Thomas singing his bawdy version of “Catfish Blues.” Also, an assembly of older gentlemen passing a pint bottle, all wearing vests with the name of their fraternal society sewn on the back: Dead Peckers Club.
I played in master minimalist Bo Ramsey’s band from 1988 to ’90. Living in Iowa City, attending grad school for poetry, weekend gigs with Bo were another equally important kind of education. He was the first guy I played in a band with who used open tunings. Nothing exotic: open G or open E, early Muddy Waters and Elmore James. Music I had loved since growing up in Louisiana. This was our bond, the music we both considered bedrock. Some of my first songs, written for that band, featured Bo on slide guitar.
I moved to Nashville in 1992, a city already populated with a few friends—some from Iowa, some from Louisiana. Buddy Flett was from Shreveport; I’d loved his playing since seeing him in the band A-Train in the early ’80s. We’d go eat catfish at Wendell Smith’s, and inevitably talk about songs. He’d achieved some success as a writer, working with fellow north Louisianan David Egan, employing his own kind of sleight-of-hand mystery in both G and D tunings.
In 1993, I found a guitar that would change my life and my songwriting: a scrappy Gibson ES-125 from 1956, standing in a corner of a friend’s apartment in Nashville, covered in dust. I asked if I could borrow it, for no particular reason other than to get it out of there so that it would be played. I wrote a song on it, in double drop-D tuning [D–A–D–G–B–D]. Not a great song, but it got me thinking about open strings and tunings again. I was looking for a way to play solo shows that reflected where I came from, and where the songs came from that I was writing.“The droning aspect of open tunings always appealed to me, and in the context of solo gigs, the big sound of octaves ringing out helped this insecure guitar player sound a little taller, wider . . . something.”
So, I put the guitar in open D [D–A–D–F#–A–D], put flatwounds on it, and started figuring out chord shapes (other than barring flat across) that I could use to play my songs, all of which at that point had been written and performed in standard tuning. I’d bought a ’64 Fender Princeton amp years before, when I was 19, but had never found a use for it until now: The 125 through the Princeton on about four was the sound. The droning aspect of open tunings always appealed to me, and in the context of solo gigs, the big sound of octaves ringing out helped this insecure guitar player sound a little taller, wider . . . something. The fingerings I came up with all seemed to mask the third of the scale—so you’d have a big sound which was neither major nor minor. And for my songs, it just felt right. By the time I recorded my second album for Shanachie, Down to the Well, in 1999, I was writing songs in open D (“Pueblo Dog”). For the next two albums, released in 2005 and 2012, the majority of the songs were written and performed live in open D, employing a capo when necessary.
As usual, the methods and habits developed while touring fed back into the writing and recording processes. For my latest release, The In Between, though, most of the songs were written and recorded in standard—“Simple Things,” “Tammy Cecile,” “Coming Up”—with some exceptions, including “Keeping My Brother Down,” “You Can’t Hurt Me No More,” and the title track, on which I play a ’50s Gibson electric tenor archtop in a peculiar tuning: C–G–C–G. Though I can’t say that open tunings make for better songs, they do help me hear chords differently, at times suggesting progressions that I wouldn’t normally think of. One song currently in-progress has these verse changes: VIm / I / VIm / I / VIm / I / II / II. In standard tuning, that VI would sound (to my ear) too bright. But because I’m writing it in open D, how I fret the VI sounds low and dark, appropriate for the lyric and melody, creating the right setting for the lines and story to unfold.
Once used as a way to preserve American indigenous culture, field recording isn’t just for seasoned pros. Here, our columnist breaks down a few methods for you to try it yourself.
The picture associated with this month’s Dojo is one of my all-time favorites. Taken in 1916, it marks the collision of two diverging cultural epochs. Mountain Chief, the head of the Piegan Blackfeet Tribe, sings into a phonograph powered solely by spring-loaded tension outside the Smithsonian. Across from him sits whom I consider the patron saint of American ethnomusicologists—the great Frances Densmore.
You can feel the scope and weight of theancient culture of the indigenous American West, and the presence of the then-ongoing women’s suffrage movement, which was three years from succeeding at getting the 19th Amendment passed by Congress. That would later happen on June 4, 1919—the initiative towards granting all women of this country the right to vote. (All American citizens, including Black women, were not granted suffrage until 1965.)
Densmore traversed the entire breadth of the country, hauling her gramophone wax cylinder recorders into remote tribal lands, capturing songs by the Seminole in southern Florida, the Yuma in California, the Chippewa in Wisconsin, Quinailet songs in Northern Washington, and, of course, Mountain Chief outside the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. Author of more than 20 books and 200 articles, she carefully preserved the rich cultural diversity of Native Americans with over 2,500 field recordings.
Why am I writing about this? Firstly, to pay homage! Secondly, because it serves as a great reminder to seek and cultivate sound outside the studio as well. We live in a time of great technological power and convenience. Every week a new sample pack, plugin, pedal, or software instrument hits the market. For all the joy that these offerings bring, they deprive us of the joy of creating our own instruments from scratch.
This month, I’m advocating for you to make some field recordings of your own—nature, urban, indoor, outdoor, specific locations, animals, or anything that piques your interest! Bring the material back to the studio and make music with it! I’ll show you how to make your own sample libraries to use in your music. Tighten up your belts, a multipart Dojo is now open.
What do you need to get started? Quite simply, you just need any device that is capable of recording. This can range from your cell phone to a dedicated field recorder. The real question is: Do you want to use mics housed in handheld units or have more robust mic pres with the ability to power larger live/studio microphones using XLR connectors found with the larger units? Let’s look at three scenarios.
The Cellular Approach
The absolute easiest way to get started is with your cell phone. Take advantage of a voice-memo recording app, or use an app that records multitrack audio like GarageBand on iOS. Phone recordings tend to sound very compressed and slightly lo-fi—which might be exactly what you want. However, the method can also introduce unwanted noise artifacts like low-end rumble (from handling the phone) and phasing (moving the mic while recording). I recommend using a tripod to hold your phone still while recording. You might also want to consider using an external mic and some software to edit your sample recordings on the phone. I like using a Koala Sampler ($4.99) on iOS devices.
Upgrade Me
The next step up is to use a portable recorder. These have much better mic pres, and offer true stereo recording with pivoting mic heads. This can give you the added benefit of controlling the width of your stereo image when recording or helping isolate two sound sources that are apart from each other. You sacrifice the ability to easily edit your recordings. You simply import them into your computer and edit the recording(s) from there.
Pro-Level Quality
I would recommend this scenario if you want to record multiple sources at once. These devices also have SMPTE time code, 60+ dB of gain, phantom power (+48 volts), advanced routing, and a 32-bit/192 kHz sampling rate, so you’ll never have a distorted recording even when the meter gets unexpectedly pegged into the red from a loud sound source. I recommend the Zoom F8n Pro ($1099). Now you can use your microphones!
Best Practices
Try to safely record as close to the sound source as you can to minimize ambient noise and really scrub through your recordings to find little snippets and sound “nuggets” that can make great material for creating your own instrument and sample library—which we’ll explore next month! Namaste.