The Foo Fighters’ frontman once took my Les Paul at a Halloween gig and played it onstage, with glee, for 90 minutes. But his new autobiography is full of better stories and plenty of wisdom.
“Life is just too damn short to let someone else’s opinion steer the wheel.”
—Dave Grohl, The Storyteller
In 2013, I was playing a Halloween party at Paul Allen’s Beverly Hills home/studio. It was a surreal gig, playing “Season of the Witch” with Donovan while supermodels, musicians, titans of industry, and celebrities like Sacha Baron Cohen, Dan Aykroyd, and Gina Gershon weaved around the packed yet spacious and spooky dance floor. Right in front of me, dressed like an Amish farmer, was Dave Grohl bobbing his head to the music. I held out my guitar to him and shouted, “DO YOU WANT TO PLAY?” He shrugged his shoulders like, “why not,” jumped onstage, took my Les Paul, and proceeded to play for 90 minutes, pretty much nailing every cover song requested by the crowd.
It was an impromptu jam at a party, but Grohl turned it into an epic performance, putting everything into every song, hitting the high notes by screaming like his life depended on it while beating my guitar like it owed him money. I remember thinking, “Man, no wonder this guy is a two-time Rock and Roll Hall of Famer. He gets it.”
I hadn’t thought about that for years until last week, when Dave Grohl told me his life story over the course of 10.5 hours as he read the audio version of his autobiography, The Storyteller.
Right in front of me, dressed like an Amish farmer, was Dave Grohl bobbing his head to the music. I held out my guitar to him and shouted, “DO YOU WANT TO PLAY?”
If you’re a musician, you know people like the young, pre-Nirvana Grohl: the seemingly misguided who dropped out of high school to tour with a bunch of grown men in a dodgy van, sleep in abandoned squats, and survive on a diet of gas station corn dogs, generic cigarettes, and whatever else a $7 per diem can get you. Most professional musicians go through a similar rite of passage when they first forsake all common sense, security, and comfort to play music full time. Check back with those friends 10 to 30 years later and you’ll hear a lot of stories—some sad, some triumphant, but few more inspiring than Grohl’s. Consider these differences between Grohl’s experience and other sadder versions of parallel musicians’ lives.
Grohl put in the work.
Before he had drums, Grohl learned to play by hitting pillows in his small childhood home and making drumbeats with his mouth when no kit or pillows were available. He played and listened all the time, learning every song by his favorite bands. So, when Scream auditioned drummers, he already knew the entire catalog, proving that success is when preparedness and opportunity intersect.
Grohl had the humility to listen and learn along the way.
Like many young drummers, Grohl was shoehorning fills into every space, thinking he was killing it. One day, Scream bassist Skeeter Thompson forced Grohl to get very high and play one simple groove without any fills for 30 minutes. Grohl described it as “breaking a wild pony.” I know a lot of young drummers who could not or would not do this. Consequently, they never get to the next level.
Grohl puts everything into every performance.
When Nirvana saw this skinny kid playing the shit out of his drums for the tiny crowd at a Scream show, they knew he was the guy. I see guys onstage checking their texts between songs or looking bored. If you’re going to play, be in it. Every gig is not just a performance. It’s an audition for the next gig.
Grohl said, “It’s hard to put into words the belief I have in music. To me, it is God. A divine mystery in whose power I will forever hold an unconditional trust.” We’ve all met wild-eyed Law of Attraction zealots who look at the universe as a divine vending machine, where you say the magic words, believe with all your might, and then get the shining prize you crave. It’s not about the prize; it’s about the journey: the rejection, embarrassment, discomfort, and lessons you learn along the way. The reward is that you become the person you’re supposed to be. I suspect the trick to manifesting your destiny is to move forward trusting that what’s happening to you is happening for you. Big dreams remain an empty distraction from real life unless you put in the work, sacrifice, and hustle to make it happen.
Honestly, if, like Grohl, you steadfastly work, keep your mind/soul open, say yes, be grateful, and put your whole heart into it, eventually, amazing things will happen to you. It will be a wild ride full of soul-crushing and soul-expanding experiences that will lead you where you’re supposed to be. That may be rich and famous or poor and anonymous, but if you can find happiness in one, you will have it in the other as well.
How to use an indispensable DAW tool to focus tracks, find space in a mix, create vintage-style sounds, and more.
Hello everyone, and welcome to another Recording Dojo installment. You may recall that back in November 2020 I introduced you to the mighty HPF (high-pass filter) and how to employ its power. This time, I'm going to focus on the other side of the spectrum: the LPF (low-pass filter). A DAW's LPF does exactly what its name implies: It allows low-frequency information to pass and attenuates the high frequencies. Strategic use of an LPF can really help clean up your recordings and mixes by allowing you to control where and how much high-frequency information you want—especially on groups of tracks where there might be a lot of high-frequency overlap.
Like its cousin the HPF, the LPF also has many of the same parameters and controls—most importantly, the slope of the filter. The slope of the filter is represented by dBs per octave, and the higher the value, the steeper the slope. Typically ranges include -12 dB to -48 dB per octave, but sometimes higher values can be really effective, as we will see.
Here are three scenarios to try that will help you learn how to use a LPF in your mixes.
Scenario 1: acoustic guitar and vocal (or second guitar).
In this situation, you should record your acoustic guitar and your vocal separately, on two different tracks, and not at the same time. If you don't sing, then just play a solo to go along with your acoustic guitar track. First, in your DAW, instantiate and EQ on your acoustic guitar track with an LPF and set it for a -24dB/octave with a center frequency somewhere around 2800 kHz (Fig.1). Next, sweep the frequency to the left and the right and notice how the guitar track will lose its top end (“air") and begin to sound warm. It should immediately start sounding a bit more lo-fi, or like an old recording from last century. Find a frequency range that sounds good to you but is still cutting out a significant amount of the high frequencies and transients of the acoustic guitar. For the vocal track (or your solo track), don't use any EQ at all. Just let it be au naturel. Now listen to both tracks at the same time while toggling the acoustic track's LPF on and off. What you should immediately notice is the vocal track (solo track) will be much more in focus and really have some distance and dimension from the acoustic track when the LPF is active. Season to taste.
Fig. 2
Scenario 2: finding more “space" between the drums and the lead guitar tracks.
Especially in rock music, a significant amount of the drums' energy can come from those cymbals that the drummer is bashing on relentlessly. Cymbals can kill a mix faster than Kryptonite, and they can obscure the subtle pick attacks of lead guitar parts and solos. In this situation, try putting an LPF on the drum overhead tracks, or the main drum track if you are playing with loops, or software instruments, etc. Start around 6,500 kHz (Fig. 2) with -48 dB/octave and sweep around until the drums start to sound warm and the cymbals aren't stepping all over the guitar parts. There are many complex ways to achieve this result, but we have to start somewhere and we want to keep it as simple as possible while putting you in the right territory. For a good reference, listen to U2's “Beautiful Day," and notice how the cymbals don't fatigue your ears or take over the mix.
Scenario 3: using an LPF to make room for a vocal in a mix.
Have a look at Fig. 3 and pay attention to the far right side of the audio spectrum. Notice how the aggressive LPF is literally cutting off high frequency information above 20 kHz. This brick wall (greater than -96 dB/octave) setting can be used to your advantage—especially if your voice (or your singer) has a lot of breathiness and air, but it's getting lost in the mix within the rest of the band. Or perhaps you want to make the mix sound more vintage.
Fig. 3
What we want to do here is sum all of the band tracks except the vocal to a new bus (or track), and then put an LPF on the newly summed track. Here is where you'll want to play around and move quickly to see if you can find that sweet spot between having the band track sounding too dull and giving the vocals the right amount of air or breathiness. Once you dial it in, you can toggle the LPF on and off to hear how the vocals can come in and out of focus.
Don't get frustrated when trying these techniques. It might take some time to really start hearing the differences, and to find ways to use LPFs to your advantage.
Until next time.