Last month, I was the technical director for a conference at Stanford University but I struggle to write about it, to find the precise tone. Frankly it's all coming across flat and uninspired.  While one story sits mute, another drums vibrantly.  I'm compelled to look back to what it was that led me down the technical path, what was the catalyst, the thrust… I remember it was a little electronic gizmo that repeated everything it heard.

I was five years old when I got my first tape recorder.  It was a Mayfair cassette tape recorder – Mayfair was a drugstore in the Fresno area and this unit came complete with fancy Mayfair cassettes. Yippee.  That's probably what I said – I hadn't gotten the batteries into the device yet to record my reaction, let alone learn how to use the thing. There was a separate microphone that came with the recorder, which not only recorded sound but also had an on/off switch to start and stop the recording – pretty high tech. The shimmering metal top of the microphone was flat with miniature mesh-like holes that always felt cool to the touch. The first tape or two that I ever had either got lost or broken, I don't have them any more but there are a few survivors that hold a documented fragment, a jump back into the time tunnel where sounds linger, imagination fills in the gaps, no visuals needed.  

One of the first things I ever recorded was my brother, sister and I playing cards - poker to be exact.  I'd place the microphone in the center of the table and you could hear the crackles and thumps, as I would put it in place. We would forget about it sometimes…the tape spinning, capturing our rousing games and antics. Sometimes my brother or sister would grab the mic and speak loudly into it, my brother acting like Howard Cossell announcing the big Muhammad Ali fight, my sister singing some Barbara Streisand song. I would interview my brother in my best radio announcer voice, trying not to crack up… this is serious, you know. Little voices: thin and unedited, laughing, crying, shouting, sighing, all with bright exuberance. 

In my fascination with sound I moved on to better cassette recorders. I found reel-to-reel tape recorders that allowed me to actually get to the tape – touch it and cut it – old school editing. I bought a whole pack of razor blades; they were everywhere, waiting to slice through the polyester tape. I bought a small portable reel-to-reel recorder from the salvation army and made a miniature shotgun microphone from parts I bought from radio shack (one of my favorite stores at the time) and recorded everything: my dad's car, my brother diving into a pool, footsteps, campfires, trees swaying, rain falling and birds singing.  I would incorporate all of these sounds into my own little radio shows or skits. One unusual recording I made was of M-80 firecrackers exploding. I was in a hurry and didn't want to find a long microphone cable. There was an outside speaker, I patched it into the microphone input of the recorder inside the house and just let the tape run. It wasn't the cleanest recording, using a speaker as a microphone. I had to contend with a low rumble hum from an unshielded speaker cable and noise from a high input recording level.  But it works in a pinch if you happen to be blowing something up.

 I moved on to a hi-fi VCR that had adjustable microphone inputs and a fidelity that was much higher than a cassette or my reel-to-reels. Videotapes were cheap – 6 hours of great audio for 2 bucks, a significant boon for a struggling sound jockey. Hi-fi VCR's and 4-track cassette machines recorded music from my bands and solo projects. My introduction to layering sounds: guitars, synthesizers, drum machines and vocals, was an aphrodisiac leading to hours of pleasure and headache, creating the perfect blend.

School expanded my knowledge of the audio world: better microphones, recording techniques, electronics and music. I recorded music, dialog, sound effects on larger multi-track reel-to-reels, listening for hours to the same four-minute song, relentless, tweaking the low, mid and high frequencies and everything in between.  I'd add reverb, compression or other sound processing - bounce tracks (combining two or more tracks into one) and still use razor blades to edit choruses and verses, and the heads and tails of the tape.  Again and again, like a dog chasing his tail, spinning round, the reels of sound…turn.

Today, with computers, it is much easier to manipulate sound, to edit it, process it, archive it.  The digital revolution has allowed both professionals and consumers to create so much more, so much faster, using inexpensive software, without ever having to pick up a razor blade. I now transfer those aged cassette tapes to CD's. My computer desktop plays audio blips from a pre-recorded past.  The highlight reel of life, captured from the cassettes and reels, joining a new medium.  

A simple cassette recorder placed in the hands of an inquisitive kid, detonating a love affair with sound, resonating life's moments. I smile as I listen to years of audible history. Stanford will have to wait.

©2003 Joseph Beachy

For other articles in this series by Joe Beachy, check the Archives.

Joe Beachy is a former circus radio engineer, wearer of forty three hats, theatre tech director, and a refugee from Fox. He still resides in tinsel town.

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