BY THAT SOUND

After 2 hours at 47,000 feet above ground, we touched down early in the evening. As the door to the hangar slid open, there were hugs and hi-fives. We were actually about to do it. What started as a hypothetical "what if" discussion at a team meeting was now as real as the Dassault Falcon that landed us here. We were kids on Christmas morning. We took our time walking around this enormous space, marveling at our individual inferiority as we stood in the abdomen of a room large enough for not one ... not two ... but yes, three airplanes. With a random series of claps and finger snaps, we tested and familiarized ourselves with the room. We knew we'd either dance or wrestle with this room for the next 24 hours. Natural reverb and delay like you wouldn't believe, but was it too noisy? Was the tail too long? Would the noise bleed into our samples and create an even more painstaking process than drum sampling already is? There were so many unanswered questions, but the most pressing was obviously, "What the hell is this going to sound like on the other side of the monitors?" We unloaded the plane and set up a 26" kick, a couple old Rogers toms, a black beauty snare, a couple Constantinoples, some mics, a mini rack, and any other gear we managed to fit onto the plane. Once everything was set up, Paul hit the first snare and we all screamed (not actual words ... mostly expletives and onomatopoeia). With wings behind us (literally), mountains beside us, and a sunset before us, we played drums deep into the night. We came away with a sound you won't believe until you hear it... Hangar.