Andy Thompson on 'Chime'

Andy Thompson is a composer, arranger, producer, mixer, and multi-instrumentalist who's been making music since before he can remember. He's been nominated for a Grammy, loves building things, and has a degree in classical composition lying around here somewhere. Andy has made music with Belle and Sebastian, jeremy messersmith, Taylor Swift, Dessa, Dan Wilson and Semisonic, BOY, Daniel Johnston, Atmosphere, Heiruspecs, Graveyard Club, and Madisen Ward and Mama Bear. He lives in Minneapolis with his gracious wife, three goofy kids, and one very aloof cat named Tatty.

Three items of gear you'd bring to a desert island (with a power strip)

●    Piano (and the tools to tune it—humidity on desert islands is killer).

●    1972 Takamine acoustic guitar (a guitar I love, but one that’s kinda crappy and already beaten to hell, so I won’t care too much if the boat wreck that lands me on the island dings it up even more).

●    MacBook Pro (on which I will record my masterpiece in between spearfishing sessions. I will then seal it in a makeshift inflatable rubber bag made from my damaged dinghy, and send it off to sea in hopes that someday, someone will fish it from the drink and get to experience it in all its tropical glory).

Principle strength—yours and of the other two members.

Me: Synthesizer, sayer of “yes, and...”. Relentless editor who knows most of the rules—but breaks them 87% of the time.

Lazerbeak: Bringer of all the bangingest beats and none of the ego. He whose gut we trust. Syllabic tweaker, taskmaster, keeper of the Google Doc.

Dessa: Risk-taker, hook-maker, “I’m game”-er. Up at dawn penning verses, cranking killer vocal takes late into the night. Conceptual mastermind for whom the term “lyricist” does no justice.

A few sentences on how your experience of writing music compares to performing it live compares to executive production.

My creative flow is strongest when I’m burrowed subterranean-level deep inside a song—sometimes to a fault, causing me miss the forest for the trees. When I do finally emerge, however, and take a few days (or weeks) to regain perspective, what works and what doesn’t work—whether it’s a note in a melody or an entire song—becomes immediately clear. Then I can put on my “executive producer” hat, whittling down what’s there, and reassembling it to create pieces that fit in the final, full-picture form.

For this album, having Beak in the room in real-time to bounce things off of helped make that process more efficient: Instead of letting Dessa and I eagerly dive down a rabbit hole after something that his Spidey sense told him wouldn’t be productive or make the final cut, he’d grab us by the scruff, pull us back from the brink, and set us in the right direction.

To me, the best live performances are reimaginings. Take your cues from the recorded version, but stay alert and engaged, and enthusiastically go wherever the band and the crowd takes you. Nothing should be sacred.

Most challenging song on the album to dial in.

“Good Grief” felt the most challenging, but I think that’s because it was just the first one we decided to finish. It had a weight the others didn’t, as first songs usually do. Also, this album strikes many tones (which is maybe another reason why the title 'Chime' is a good one), and that song in particular touches on many of them. Felt like a bit of a plate-spinner in the moment, but turned out great.

Favorite song on the album.

Toss up between “Ride” and “Fire Drills.” “Ride” came together very quickly and effortlessly, and it was the kind of song that after we finished it, I thought, “Okay, people have to hear this track right now.”

“Fire Drills” had such an odd birth and adolescence—first as a purely orchestral collaboration with the Minnesota Orchestra, then as a studio creation taking cues from the orchestral version. Dessa joked that we always demo our best tracks with a full orchestra in front of 2,000 people, then go into my basement to record it for real. Then she nailed the verses in record time—always a good sign. Add in the badassery of Beak’s beats and Joe Mabbott’s mixing...it just kept getting better and more powerful every step of the way.

What mistake(s) did you make during your early years as a producer that you've since corrected?

Not recognizing my strengths, and therefore not subcontracting out my weaknesses. It’s true that I can do a lot of things—but a lot of people can do a lot of things better than I can. Bringing the right people into the fold and sharing the joy of creation almost always pays off handsomely.

Are there any sounds or treatments that are trending now that you avoid because they're on the way to falling out of fashion?

I’m woefully not on top of that stuff, unless I’m specifically asked to be. Which is why it’s nice to have such pop-heads like Beak and Dessa on board. I’d like to think my ignorance leads to innovation—but that might just be a nice thought.

What tools do new producers spend too much on? What do they not invest enough in?

In general, I’ve found new producers spend too much time and energy trying to figure out what tools might magically make their musical lives easier, instead of investing that time in learning how to use a tool they already have, inside and out.

Get one mic, use it for everything. Get one EQ plug-in, use it for everything. After logging 1,000 hours using a particular tool, you might start to get an idea of how a different tool could serve you slightly better—and if you’re lucky enough to get paid for some of those 1,000 hours, you’ll hopefully be able to afford your new tool. But until then, you’re probably just guessing, or repeating what other people have said.

Also, invest obscene amounts of time in learning how to hear. If you were a painter, first you’d learn how to use a brush and mix paint, then you’d spend your whole life learning how to see. Same goes for musicians. Everything else is just elbow grease.

What's your favorite snack at Andy's house?

My famous whatever’s-in-the-fridge “cheese plate.” And Dessa’s homemade chimichurri, of course.

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