Audio engineering is a fascinating blend of technical precision and artistic intuition. It’s where science meets soul, requiring us to not only master the mechanics of sound but also nurture a deep love for the music we’re amplifying. Yet, in the midst of real-time analyzers, plugins, and decibels, it’s easy to lose sight of what drew us to this craft in the first place.
I spend a lot of time talking with audio engineers—from wide-eyed newcomers just starting out to seasoned road dogs who, as the Man in Black sang, have “been everywhere, man.” Sure, I enjoy the occasional tech talk—side-chaining this to duck that, compression ratios, high-pass filters, and debating the merits of dynamic EQ versus multi-band compression. But honestly? Those conversations can get stale pretty quickly. What really excites me are the ones reminiscent of late-night talks in the back of a tour bus somewhere in Oklahoma (or was it Texas?)—conversations about why we do this. The “desert island album,” the song that made you fall in love with music, the moment that planted the seed for becoming an engineer—even if, back then, you didn’t even know what an engineer was.
Here’s the truth: without a love for music, audio engineering can feel hollow. At its core, engineering is an artistic endeavor. Yes, you need to know your way around a console, understand signal flow, and troubleshoot on the fly, but the best mixes don’t come from technical perfection alone. They come from engineers who feel the music—who understand its emotion, dynamics, and soul.
Growing up, my love for music was nurtured by my parents. My mother filled our home with songs from Elvis, Johnny Cash, and The Everly Brothers as she sang and played her guitar. My father, an electronic engineer, introduced me to the magic of microphones, amplifiers, and vacuum tubes. Together, they gave me a profound appreciation for the artistry of music and the technology that brings it to life. This marriage of art and science is what still drives me today, both as a musician and as an engineer.
For me, this love of music extends beyond the work. I’ve created a dedicated listening room in my home—not a man cave or a home theater, but a space for music alone. No TV, no distractions, just a modest stereo system I’ve assembled over the years and a collection of records, mostly original pressings from the golden age of vinyl. Of course, I stream music too, but there’s something special about sitting down, putting on a record, and listening from beginning to end. It’s a nostalgic and peaceful place where I can immerse myself in the art of music and reflect on its history and craft.
It’s in this room that I’m often reminded of an old audiophile saying: “The magic happens when you stop listening to the system and start hearing the music.” I think that wisdom applies to us as engineers, too. It’s not about the gear or the signal chain; it’s about the music itself. If we focus too much on the mechanics, we risk missing the magic.
The best audio engineers live at the intersection of art and science. I’ve worked with some who are brilliant technically—they know every feature on the console inside and out. Yet their mixes can feel lifeless. Everything is technically correct—“on paper,” it all adds up—but the result is like a sepia replica of a masterpiece, missing the depth and energy that come from a true emotional attachment to the music. On the flip side, I’ve seen engineers who can’t explain every setting they use but mix instinctively, creating something that stirs the soul. The real magic happens when these two approaches meet—when technical mastery doesn’t overshadow the music but instead elevates it with precision and heart.
As a former drummer, I’ve felt the rush of locking into a groove with a band, the unspoken communication that happens when musicians are in sync. As an engineer, I try to bring that perspective to every mix—not just as someone turning knobs but as someone who understands the artistry behind the performance.
But even with that experience, I constantly remind myself to stay a fan first. Why? Because I’ve seen what happens when we let the technical side consume us. I’ve seen engineers so focused on chasing the perfect signal chain that they lose sight of the bigger picture. I’ve heard mixes over-processed to the point where the life gets drained out of the music.
It’s not that the technical doesn’t matter—it does. But without a love for the music, the tech becomes a barrier instead of a tool. A great engineer knows when to step back, hit the bypass button, and simply listen.
Ultimately, I think we all need to ask ourselves: Why are we doing this? Was it a live concert that gave you goosebumps? A record you wore out on your old cassette deck? For me, it’s those moments of connection—the late-night conversations, the music that moves us, the stories that remind us why we started this journey.
At the end of the day, the best audio engineers aren’t just masters of technology—they’re fans of the art. They’re the ones who never stop chasing the magic that made them fall in love with music in the first place. So whether you’re mixing in a world-class studio, on a church console, or just in your own headphones, remember: don’t forget to listen.
Listen to the greats, to the songs that stirred your soul, to the records that made you want to do this in the first place. Let them inspire you to approach each mix with that same wonder and passion. Because when you listen—really listen—you’ll find that it’s not about the gear, the plugins, or the signal chains. It’s about the music, and the stories it’s telling.
And that’s why we do what we do.
