Digging through the summer pile.  20+ were written at EMF on the third floor.  A room i loved.  But we shifted our housing position and the synth studio moved a few blocks over to the condo.  Great fir writing with the lady and at all hours! ;-D

Jan 16 would put this one warm despite the squarely cold alone of Boston’s winter!

:::

:::

Drums:  Linn LM2, DX Stretch, Simmons SDSV

Bass:  SCI Pro 1, Arp 2600 ( these do the zipper line too )

Synths:  Sooooo Roland!  Jupiter 6 Europa, Jupiter 8 Kenton, OBXPLoop2.gif

 

 

 

 

Linked from here:

Interview: Dave Smith

August 5, 2016

When it comes to how keyboard players make music, Dave Smith may be the most influential person alive. His early experiments building sequencers led to his first company, Sequential Circuits, releasing the first programmable polyphonic slab synth, the Prophet-5. His work on wavetable and vector synthesis in the Prophet-VS was reborn in the enduring Korg Wavestation. His Seer Systems Reality is widely acknowledged as the first commercially available “professional” soft synth. And though he tells the story more modestly, it’s acceptable shorthand to say that he invented MIDI.

At the North Beach, San Francisco, offices of today’s Dave Smith Instruments—which makes some of the most desired analog and hybrid synths on the market—we settled in for a long conversation with Dave about where he’s been, where he sees the synth industry going, and what it’s like to finally feel like a rock star. In fact, we covered so much ground that we could fit only part of it here—so be sure to read the “extended remix” at keyboardmag.com/september2016.

What was your point of entry into engineering before you were a synth designer?

Photo Credit: Laura Christie

When I got out of high school it was a time where if you didn’t go to college you went to Vietnam. It was kind of a default to go into engineering. I always had kind of a technical interest. I started at Santa Clara, then I went to UC Santa Barbara for a year, and the last two years were at [UC] Berkeley. I had a day job as an engineer for about six years until I quit. I started Sequential Circuits after the first three years. I realized I didn’t want to work in “regular” engineering the rest of my life, and that’s when I got interested in synthesizers—when I bought my first Minimoog in, I think, 1972.

Your first product was a sequencer, correct?

Yeah. It was an analog sequencer—16 steps by three rows, a bunch of knobs, kind of the style everybody’s building again these days. I wanted a sequencer to go with the Minimoog and the Moog ones were too expensive. So I just built it for my own use. Then I realized, maybe other people might want to have one, too. Sequential sold a grand total of four! That was 1974-ish.

What was the path that led from there to the Prophet-5?

It wasn’t as direct a path as you might think. The main idea was programmability. I found out that there was going to be a set of integrated circuits from Solid State Music that did synthesizer functions. I’d been working on microprocessors in Silicon Valley for a few years and this was still early in the game, but I knew how they worked. So it was obvious to me that if you put a bunch of these synthesizer chips on a board with a microprocessor, you could build a fully programmable polyphonic synth. For a while I said, “I don’t want to build a keyboard. Moog and ARP are going to do it.” Then in 1977, two things happened. One, I finally quit my day job. Two, I thought maybe nobody is going to build this thing after all, so I’m going to do it. I started in probably spring of ’77 working on what turned out to be the Prophet-5 and had it available to demonstrate at NAMM the following January. I basically did everything—the metal, the wood, the circuit board, the schematics, all the software, just the whole thing.

Today, musicians tend to see you, Tom Oberheim, Alan Pearlman, Roger Linn, and the memory of Bob Moog as one big happy family. Back in the day, though, what was the competition like?

We were lucky that the Prophet-5 had over a year with no competition because it took everybody by surprise. Oberheim was the fastest to respond with the OB-X, in 1979. Basically, after a year-and-a-half, everybody was either an Oberheim guy or a Prophet guy. It wasn’t until the early ’80s when the Jupiter-8 and Memorymoog came out that the market got more crowded with poly-synths. What’s really cool now is, fast-forward to 2016 and people have the same choice! They can buy a Prophet-6 or an OB-6. It was surprising being at NAMM and seeing how many people just immediately gravitated toward one or the other. It’s like it’s 1979!

You were the principal developer of MIDI. Before that, brands had proprietary interfaces but their gear couldn’t talk to other brands. What was the tipping point?

Dave Smith during the heyday of Sequential Circuits, ca. 1979
Photo Credit: Sibyl Heishman

The synthesizer market was tiny in the late ’70s. No one was selling 50,000 of these things. It wasn’t until the Yamaha DX7 came out that a company shipped 100,000-plus synths. But the Prophet-5 was the first synth with the microprocessor so when everybody started copying it, they used microprocessors. As soon as you have one in an instrument, you realize it’s pretty easy for them to talk to each other digitally. It was around 1981 that we all started realizing the interface needed to be common. It wasn’t like any one person had a bright idea. I remember talking to Tom Oberheim and he had talked to [Roland founder] Kakehashi about it. That was when I gave a talk at the AES convention in New York presenting the USI—Universal Synthesizer Interface. I get tagged as “the person who started MIDI” because I just initiated all of that. I followed up three months later at NAMM. I’m pretty sure it was Roland, Korg, Yamaha, and Kawai who all said “Let’s do it.” That was the start of what became MIDI.

Was there a business case made that someone who owns synth brand X might also buy brand Y if the two can talk to each other?

I don’t remember it being quite that market-driven. Kakehashi was an engineer and a product guy, just like me. The same goes for Bob, Tom, Roger—everything was driven by someone where, it was their company. I think that’s what’s gone missing as things have become more corporate. The work was mostly done by Roland and Sequential. We were the only non-Japanese company so we wrote the spec and handled the English-language side of things. Yamaha, Korg, and Kawai came onboard, and I knew then that it was going to work.

You also came up with the name “MIDI”?

I remember a meeting where Kakehashi visited Sequential in San Jose and Jim Mothersbaugh [of Roland] was with him. They wanted to talk about the name. We all decided USI wasn’t good. So they’d suggested Universal Musical Instrument Interface, pronounced “you-me,” as in “we all connect together.” I thought it sounded a little corny, but I liked the idea of musical instrument instead of just synthesizer. For some reason “Musical Instrument Digital Interface” popped in my head and I said, “How about MIDI?” Everybody said, “Okay.”

The original promise of analog synthesis was to create any sound by getting under its hood, so to speak. Starting in the ’80s, there was the idea that digital was better. Were digital Sequential synths like the Prophet-VS part of that narrative?

Photo Credit: Sibyl Heishman

The Prophet-VS was kind of in between—hybrid digital oscillators and analog filters with the whole vector synthesis thing. It wasn’t an attempt to “be more digital.” That was what we were doing with samplers like the Prophet 2000. [The VS] was more that a couple of guys came up with the idea of this four-way envelope-modulated vector synthesis idea, controlled by a joystick. We all just said, “Hey, that sounds like fun.” I’ve said this many times before, but to me, one of the reasons the Prophet-5 was so successful is, it was the first time people could actually have an emulativeinstrument on which they could play brass and strings and organ, some electric piano-like sounds, flutes . . . Of course, we would’ve sold ten times more if it was $1,000 instead of $5,000. One of the main reasons the DX7 did so well is, it was $2,000, it had 16 voices, it had velocity, but it was a better emulative instrument. That Rhodes sound was, like, 90 percent of it!

Was that the beginning of analog’s long slumber?

The real death blow was when the Korg M1 came out, which was by far the most popular keyboard ever made. It even outsold the DX7. Finally, here was what keyboard players always wanted—real piano, brass, strings, organs, basses, leads. This is somewhat unfair and I’ll say why, but it put synthesis innovation into a 20-year dark ages, because ever since the M1 every company just kept building M1s. More voices, more and better sounds, more precision—just more, more, more.

In some ways, they’re still doing it. So why was that unfair to say?

Because it’s what 90 percent of keyboard players need to play gigs, which is different from players who are into synths for their own sake. What’s cool and different now is people are once again playing synths as synths because they’ve already got their Nords and Motifs and so forth to cover all the other sounds they need. So if you buy a synth now, it’s because you actually want to play a synth. That’s why I think this time it’s going to be different from last time. There’s not going to be something digital that comes in and makes true synthesizers go away again.

Fast-forward a few years. A lot of people credit Seer Systems Reality as the first soft synth. What was the impetus for your getting into software?

Well, whenever you talk firsts, there’s always somebody earlier. They were in a university, or they built one and nobody knew about it, or they sold 20 of them, whatever. But at Seer we did three generations of soft synths. The first one was for Intel. Intel was just starting the idea of native signal processing actually being able to do real stuff on a computer, and Andy Grove even used it for demos at Comdex. The second generation, we licensed to Creative Labs to put in one of their sound cards—this was mainly sample-based with General MIDI. A million of those things shipped. But what we’ll call the first real professional soft synth was Reality. It had sampling, it had subtractive, it had FM, it had modeling—all of this in one soft synth.

So we called it the future of music synthesis and to a degree, we were correct. But the first time we showed it at NAMM, people would come in and we’d have a keyboard connected to it and they’d go, “What do you mean, software synth?” “We’ve got this PC here. It’s running software that actually is the synthesizer.” “I don’t understand.” It was one of those cases where you’re too early to the marketplace.

Would you share the story of Sequential selling its name to Yamaha, and you getting the name back in 2015?

One of the biggest mistakes we made at Sequential was that we tried to get into the computer market in around 1984. We were also trying to build lower-cost instruments. We should’ve stayed with pro instruments and probably would’ve done fine. Out of the blue Yamaha came in and asked, “We want to work with you guys somehow.” And I said, “If you do, you’d better do it quickly because we may not be around in six months.” They actually moved very quickly and bought the company in such a way that nobody made any money on it but it kept it from going belly-up at the time. Over the next year-and-a-half, they never could quite decide what to do with it. I think we kind of got caught in between Japan and Yamaha US. Ultimately, they just shut it down. And of course they owned all the names.

That’s when I went over and started with the Korg R&D group in San Jose, which is still there. The first product we did was the Wavestation. And after three or four years I kind of drifted away from that, then to Seer, then back to my own stuff. In hindsight, if we’d built a software Prophet-5 we would’ve been much more successful from the beginning. Instead, Native Instruments did.

It was kind of a surprise when I got a call from Yamaha asking if we wanted the Sequential name back. Apparently Kakehashi had sent a letter to the president of Yamaha, Takuya Nakata, asking him to give Dave his name back, and he very graciously agreed. That never happens anymore in the industry. Everybody’s all about grabbing brands and intellectual property.

The M.I. industry is full of stories of small developers being bought by larger companies and running into trouble. Since DSI started, you’ve kept control of your brand. What do you think you’ve done differently?

I was in my mid-20s when I started Sequential and didn’t really know what I was doing. Back then the attitude was more like, take over the world and see how much we can grow. This time around I purposely avoided that.

We can design things quickly because we have no sales reps or marketing department to have a bunch of meetings with. So our development cycle is, hey, let’s build our first proto, a second proto to verify everything, and then start shipping. The OB-6 took us six months. Tom Oberheim and I talked in June and showed it in January.

There’s another main difference. A lot of the bigger companies, when they come out with a new product, it’s almost always replacing an old one. When we come out with a new product, it’s a unique thing that adds to our product line. The Prophet ’08 has been out for eight years already, almost nine, and we’re still selling them steadily because it’s different than a Prophet-6 and both are different from the 12. People pick up the synth that fits their needs and we just keep growing.

What are the main challenges in designing a good analog polysynth at a reasonable price?

Well, the Prophet-6 has more than 100 control voltages flying around, so we have high-speed processors generating control voltages at audio rates. We were able to do it at a reasonable price point. It’s a tricky design. We know all of our competitors probably bought one last summer and opened it up. It actually started with the Poly Evolver—the idea of having a high-speed processor per voice to do everything efficiently, and that’s of course what’s in the Korg Minilogue. It has four voices, each one with a fast processor controlling it. This is to be expected once people figure out how to do things.

Where do you think the whole Eurorack craze is going to end up?

I refuse to predict, but I think it’s awesome—the fact that people are getting into synthesizers, getting hooked on buying modules, and hopefully actually using the modules they buy to make cool new sounds. Personally, I like having a Save button in whatever instrument I’m working with. I’d put a Prophet 12 or Pro 2 up against most modular systems. Obviously it doesn’t give you the advantage of adding some awesome wacko little module somebody built in their basement. I’d like to see more real music made with them, but that’s difficult because any sound you get, you have to use it right then because you won’t get it again! Of course, modulars look great. Having all those wires gives you that synth cred! But just philosophically, I prefer to build complete instruments.

MPE—Multiple Polyphonic Expression—is showing up in more and more controllers like Roger’s LinnStrument, the Roli Seaboards, and Keith McMillen’s stuff. Is this the future of playing the synthesizer, a solution in search of a problem, or something in between?

It’s something in between. Roger just asked me very specifically about MPE. We have customer wish lists for all our products. MPE is something like that. We’ve had a handful of people request it. I told Roger if it gets to the point where a lot of people want it, we’ll consider it. It’s like alternate tunings. People have been bugging us for years about that—usually the same small group. We finally did implement it—I think the Prophet 12 was first. This gets back to our limited engineering time. Of course, people have been interested in alternate controllers for years—go back to the original Moog versus Buchla debates in the ’60s!

The “east coast” vs. “west coast” schools of synth design?

Right. [East coast] has a keyboard because that’s what most people want to play. [West coast] didn’t because synthesizers should have a controller that connects to their unique sound possibilities. Well, we know which one won the Darwinism battle. The main thing, though, is chicken-or-egg; getting enough people willing to spend the hours to develop the muscle memory to play your alternate controller, and they’re not going to do that unless they’re pretty much guaranteed that the thing is going to be around. I used to point to the Chapman Stick as an example. Here is this cool bass-guitar hybrid thing that Tony Levin played, but aside from a small group of enthusiasts it’s not really in the musical instrument repertoire now.

What do you think of the prospects for alternate controllers in general?

Well, the Seaboard is better because it’s keyboard-based. It’s kind of like a black-and-white keyboard on steroids. Don’t get me wrong—I really want to see things like the Seaboard and the LinnStrument take off. One of the first accessories I ever built for my Minimoog was a light-based controller, in fact. It’s similar to what I’ve always said about the idea of MIDI 2.0: If you could get Yamaha, Korg, Roland, and maybe Nord to do it, game over. Everybody else would have to sign on, just like the first time around. But I also think that as-is, MIDI is good enough to do anything you need.

I’ve seen how your booth at NAMM is just mobbed. I’ve seen the adulation when 20-year-olds in an indie band recognize you. I’ve seen this happen to Tom and Roger. In the first heyday of synthesis, it didn’t seem like the synth designer was a personality—except possibly Bob Moog. Now, you guys are treated like rock stars. Is that a new feeling?

A lot of it is about longevity and history. Bob started ten years before we did, and this is going to sound kind of silly but his name was simple to pronounce—even though most people mispronounced it! It became the Kleenex of synths. People looked at any synth and went, “Is that a Moog?” When I came out with the Prophet-5, I didn’t have that history, and I was actually the only one that didn’t use my name. Moog, ARP, Linn, Oberheim—pretty much everybody else did. So of course nobody knew who I was, even the second time. “Dave Smith Instruments, what’s that? The Prophet guy? Oh, cool.” Just like everybody loves old synths, they like the old synth designers, too!

It’s funny you compare us to rock stars, because there’s a big parallel between bands and synth designers. How many bands did something 20 or 30 years ago that was really cool and ever since, they’ve been trying to record new albums? Go to a show and they want to play the new stuff but the audience only wants to hear the old stuff. I get that even now. People come up to me at the booth and only want to talk about the Prophet-5, even as they’re surrounded by new instruments. It’s having to prove later in life that you can still be relevant, just like somebody in a band. Some bands like Radiohead or U2 do this successfully, but many still tour based on what they did 20 or more years ago.

So I think why we get treated like that now is because if we haven’t so muchreinvented ourselves, we’ve been able to reproduce what we did before with instruments that people actually like and use and that have modern convenience and stability. It’s a good combination, and we also have the name recognition that comes from history, since the mindset in our industry is very “vintage.” It shouldn’t be, but I’ll take it!”

 

::: IF :::775009883200109380

We’ve been cooking a lot of vocals this summer so i am behind on my jam out time!

:::

:::

Usual Suspects:

DRUMS :  OBDX, LINN LM2, TR808, Simmons SDSV.

BASS :  SCI Pro 1, Arp 2600

PADS & SYNTHS: TX816, Roland JP6, OBDPX-1

GB0KrWL

 

 

 

It’s fun to see the excitement about this show.  It’s campy, fun, and has that special carpenter / stephen king kinda creapy scary!

Quoted from here:

 

‘Stranger Things’: Meet the Band Behind Show’s Creepy, Nostalgic Score

“Austin synth mavericks Survive on the most talked-about TV soundtrack of 2016

Survive’s Kyle Dixon (second from left) and Michael Stein (far right) discuss their creepy synth score for Netflix hit ‘Stranger Things.’ Alex Kacha

No part of acclaimed miniseries Stranger Things activates the nostalgia circuits like its soundtrack of eerie, droning analog synths – an alien transmission from the VHS era to the Netflix generation. The score comes courtesy of Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein, two of the four members of Austin soundscapists Survive, who are set to release their second album, RR7349, on Relapse Records in September.

Survive currently ranks as Austin’s most visible group in a scene full of retro-leaning synth acts like Troller, Ssleeperhold, Flatliner and Xander Harris. Austin synth store Switched On opened in 2010, and has become a community hub for this explosion of local dark-ambient mood-mushers who tinker with patch cords and resistors instead of guitars and turntables. Stein has counted himself as one of its employees – no doubt an excellent opportunity for dibs.

After releasing a handful of cassette and vinyl releases since 2010, Survive’s music caught the attention of Stranger Things creators the Duffer Brothers as the perfect audio counterpart to their retro adventure – part John Carpenter, part Italian giallo, part Giorgio Moroder and all with the warmth of vintage techniques. With the soundtrack to Stranger Things crawling under everyone’s skin, Rolling Stone caught up with Dixon and Stein to ask about how they turned a gear obsession into TV’s creepiest sound.

When did you first get into analog synths?
Stein: [I] probably bought a MicroKorg or something in 2003 or -4, and I thought it sounded the way I wanted. But there was something missing from the sound. And then I got an SH-101 off of Craigslist, and I was like, “Oh, shit. This is it. It’s analog. That’s what it is that I like.” And then I just decided to start building, like, a modular out of kits and stuff. I thought that I could have every synth if I just got all the filters for all the famous synths. But then I realized it’s a lot cheaper to just buy an entire synthesizer than all these little $200 modules all the time. But I still have that thing and I love it.

Do you still use that thing for your music?
Stein: All the time.
Dixon: Yeah, it’s all over everything.
Stein: There’s some … secret weapons in there.
Dixon: It’s been on every record.

Does he have a name?
Stein: I called it the “Tone Throne” for a minute, but that was a joke. But we still refer to it as that and laugh.

Collecting synths is kind of an expensive hobby. Have you guys had to make certain sacrifices, where it’s like, “Well, you know, I could …”
Stein: …have a bank account?
Dixon: I could have savings … but I could also have a synthesizer. … I mean, working a job is just like, “OK, got my paycheck. What am I buying now?”
Stein: I kind of play the wheel-and-deal hustle repair game with synths sometimes and trade up a lot. I usually almost made more money off synths than spent money on them.

You work at Austin synth store Switched On, right?
Stein: Uh, yeah. I’m just helping out, like, real minimally now.

Austin is full of analog-synth bands and Austin’s Mondo Records is doing a lot of vintage-synth soundtrack reissuing. Why do you think it has sprouted such a fertile scene there?
Dixon: I mean, I don’t really even know those [Mondo] guys. We know a bunch of people playing music here in town, but I think that’s largely due to just Switched On being a resource for people to go buy stuff.

Yeah, I guess not a lot of towns have a synth store.
Dixon: When we started … there wasn’t a synth band.
Stein: Everyone was more laptop and … just more experimental in their approach.
Dixon: We were like, “Hey, we want to start a synth band where you get onstage and you play synthesizers instead of just, like, sitting there looking at a laptop or, like, tweaking a knob.”

Do you feel like the Alamo Drafthouse and their repertory selection has had some sort influence on you?
Dixon: Most of the movies that I have seen that would be influential, I haven’t seen at the Drafthouse, I’ve seen them from I Luv Video. I Luv Video is literally one block from my house, so I just walk down there. I try to rent from them as often as possible. They do a pretty good curation of staff pics and they do little mini reviews on the front of the cover. They have the director’s wall. Any notable director has a section where you can get their movies, so I’ll work my way through all the Herzog and Tarkovsky stuff.

How about movies pertaining directly to inspiring your music?
Dixon: I mean, they have a huge Argento collection, so we get to see all that stuff, and then, like, Sorcerer. There’s a Tangerine Dream score forSorcerer that’s great. I’ve rented that one a few times. The Keep. I think you can only get The Keep on VHS. They have a huge horror section, so a lot of times I’ll just get stuff if it’s got a Goblin or a Tangerine Dream score and just see what it sounds like.
Stein: I’m a huge fan of Giorgio Moroder’s soundtracks … and the stuff that he did with Harold Faltermeyer. Just, they have, like, a weird romance vibe. I don’t know if it’s some modal-style of playing, but it’s … really ingenious. Obviously John Carpenter’s films. That brooding kind of … awesome use of dissonance and just propelling scenes.

You guys actually do rent VHS videos from those guys?
Dixon: You have to, yeah.

Is your new album, RR7349, named after the catalogue number?
Dixon: Yeah, all our albums are just the catalogue number.
Stein: I loved not having to come up with a name because we don’t really have a concept for a record. When we’re working on it it’s just like, all these songs start to fall into place.

What did you have to do differently for the show than your record?
Dixon: Just dealing with a film … or a TV show, there’s a broad range of emotions that you have to touch on, and a lot of that’s a little more childish, a little more playful, than something that we would release as Survive. So, out of the necessity to tell the story, we’re gonna write stuff that just would never make it out on a Survive album.

How do you know when you have the right mood?
Dixon: When it makes you feel cool. Like, “Oh, I feel cool right now.” It’s like, “I could be driving around in the car listening to this and feeling pretty good.”

It’s funny because Internet forums where they talk about music like this, driving is the overarching imagery.
There’s obvious, like, Drive or whatever all that shit is. And we kind of have that, but we try to keep it a little back from that whole overly Eighties. …

Your stuff’s a little bit darker too.
Stein: Yeah. You have to mix it real warm and, like, kind of almost questioning what era it’s from
Dixon: Yeah, we’re definitely more interested in Seventies-style production than Eighties, which I think is the difference. A lot of those types of bands will go for the super cold stuff … that sounds really digital, and we kind of … I mean, I don’t know if we’ve accomplished that goal, but we’re just drawn to Seventies recording styles a little more. I mean, Eighties is great, and we love all that stuff too. But we try to make it sound a little warmer.
Stein: Some depth and some movement to the dynamics of the track, just more life in there than just, like, smacking the shit out of the speakers.

So, how did you two hook up with the Duffer Brothers for Stranger Things?
Dixon: They’re fans of Survive somehow and it’s kind of a mystery … like, they don’t really know how they found us. But they did, and then they emailed us and asked if we were available. They put our song “Dirge” from our last LP in their trailer for the show. Like, they made a little mock trailer to pitch their concept to Netflix, and they had the song “Dirge” in there. They were like, “Oh, shit. That works pretty well for the trailer. It kind of got the vibe across.”

What was the process you used to compose for 10 hours of television?
Dixon: I mean, we’ve been recording for years, and there’s tons of stuff that we’ve always kind of known would be good for films, so we had some of that stuff lying around. And when they hit us up, we sent a lot of that stuff over just to say, “Hey, here’s some different moods that could work.”

And some of that stuff ended up being used, but a lot of it ended up being re-worked. And after we sent that initial, kind of, dump over to them, they picked a few things out, and then asked us to do a little more for certain things … like write a theme for some of the characters to use … to pitch to the producers and stuff. We got involved really early, before they had even cast anyone. And they used the demo that we’d sent to play against the auditions, which kind of helped them decide, you know, whether or not they wanted to use us … and I think it may have also dictated who they cast for some of the characters. So, that was cool.

Stein: We were just writing … just trying to, you know, imagine who these characters were. And we’d seen a little bit of the aesthetic they were going for. But there weren’t scripts yet, there were just, like, these vague, kind of character descriptions. And to make scenes based on those ideas, you just had to … kind of imagine what that was and feel it out and send it over. And some of those things actually just locked in and like stayed very early on

Dixon: And before we had even gotten the job. They basically told us like, “We know you can do scary shit and dark stuff so you need to show the producers that you can do some of the more lighthearted things.”

Was there anything that you had in mind as a guide for your more lighthearted material?
Dixon: For me, there’s this warm, fuzzy feeling that a lot of Nineties R&B like INOJ and even some like Mariah Carey. It’s hard to explain, but there are certain notes that just sound like being a kid to me just because that’s when I grew up I guess probably. Some of that stuff was kind of an influence for me on learning some of those kid themes I guess.

Was there anything that they came back to you and were like, “This is too scary”?
Dixon: No, they were like, “Make it scary as fuck.” They’re like, “We want to scare the shit out of some little kids … and adults, so go for it.” Especially for some of the more intense scenes, they were like, “Just make it go even harder. Make it as crazy as possible.”

You know you’ve done your job if you make people uncomfortable?
Dixon: Yep. But also, you know, happy and nostalgic and remembering their childhood as well. … But then being scared as fuck.”

 

::: IF :::

ROLAND-FILTER-CHARTS