“This is difficult stuff,” says Raiven Hansmann, Head Producer and Engineer of Popsicle Studios. I am sitting next to him in the control room where he spends his time capturing the audio of the performance in front of us. A thick panel of glass separates us from Francois Van Coke and his band of young guns. They have done three takes of a cover song, and the tension is palpable.
The entire band is made up of skilled musicians, but in this environment there’s minimal room for error. In the first take, a guitar went out of tune rendering the take unusable. Then, the backing track was too soft. Now, there’s a buzz when the guitars and bass play together, and Hansmann is trying to track it down. Francois Van Coke makes an oath to god, promising that the next take will be perfect. Tash Montlake and Ryk Otto are in charge of capturing the video component of the performance, but for now they give the cameras a rest, readying themselves for another continuous take. These musicians are being recorded and filmed simultaneously in a closed environment, and when things all work out the result is like nothing I’ve seen before.
Popsicle Studios is in Salt River, a small walk away from the ever-famous Old Biscuit Mill where Capetonians and tourists alike gorge themselves in excess on Saturdays. A giant portrait of an astronaut stares at me from across the doorway as I enter. Brandon Shore, Studio Manager and punk drummer, is the first to greet me. Warm hearted, enthusiastic and covered in tattoos, his energy is contagious. For the next few hours while we are all grabbing coffee breaks and surfing YouTube for our favourite bands and drum solos, Brandon Shore is the one who never sits down. He is in a perpetual state of organisation, bouncing from one room to the next making sure that all needs are tended to for both staff and guests. When an email lands, Brandon Shore responds to it like an athlete to a starter’s pistol.
The next to greet me is Zeus. Zeus is a cross between an Alsatian and a woolly mammoth- an enormous brown dog. He is unwittingly the mascot of the studio, good-natured and fluffy as a mascot should be. His owner and fellow drummer Ryk Otto greets me next. While we’re having coffee breaks, Otto often ends up on the big couches in the lounge area, showing one of us Youtube clips of his favourite performances and new bands. He is easily one of the most musically-obsessed people I have ever met.
After getting the dime tour of the video editing and production facilities, I am shown the Recording Room. It is lined with glistening wooden panels and scattered sections of sound proofing. I stand in its centre and stare at the walls, imagining to myself that the music of all the past performances here must have left some kind of musical residue on every surface because there’s a tangible feeling of sonic alchemy around me. Shore and I clap our hands in various parts of the room to test how well the room has been acoustically treated. The verdict: excellent.
Francois Van Coke should be arriving any minute, but Head of Film Tash Montlake she gives me a quick tour of her office. She is genuinely excited about the creative process, whether it be in decorating the room or editing a punk documentary.
Upon arrival Francois Van Coke receives a warm welcome. He is joined by a new ensemble: bluesman Frank Freeman and Richard Onraet are pulling guitar duties while Dolf Willemse is on bass. The drummer is Werner Von Waltsleben, who has played for everyone from BEAST to The Very Wicked. They’re a young and passionate bunch, constantly teasing each other and cracking jokes even under the strain of a recording environment. The guitarists are the loudest of the bunch, of course.
After a quick cigarette and introductions all round, the band starts warming up for their three song set. Hansmann is helping them with the levels on their headphones and ensuring that the plethora of gear at his fingertips is running smoothly. He’s remarkably calm about the recording session, and actually seems most comfortable when the session is going. Montlake and Otto join the band soon afterwards with their camera gear and the session begins. The ever- humble Francois Van Coke makes sure to mention his band mates and has a very apparent appreciation for them. Sitting in the control room, I feel like I’ve really lucked out to see the creation of such an intimate performance.
After a few takes of each song, the session winds down. Everyone has big smiles on their faces, and a final cigarette break is insisted upon before they pack up their gear. We all gather excitedly in the Control Room and listen to a rough mix of the set. Highly technical terms are made use of. I am lost, but I don’t mind. I’d rather keep listening. The quality of sound is as good as anything I’ve heard from Biffy Clyro’s live sessions. When the band has ambled out, Hansmann is almost immediately back in the control room putting the final touches on it.
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Watch Francois Van Coke’s video below.
