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Dub = Surprise
DUB IS THAT weird, spacey instrumental you get on the flip of most reggae singles. After the musicians and singers have left the studio when they've finished a record, the record becomes raw material for the engineer to break down and re–assemble in a different way — rather like building a vinyl stock–car. Credit for the discovery of dub is usually awarded to Kind Tubby, a balding man with an egg–shaped face, prone to whipping a selection of crowns out of the bottom drawer of his filing–cabinet for the benefit of foreign visitors. This is his description of the discovery of dub (taken from an interview I did with him last year in Jamaica):
"The first dub record was 'Travelling Man' by the Techniques. It first started at Duke Reid's studio. We were working on the cutting head, testing it by running the tape with the voices going in and out. Then we had this inspiration, with the voices going in and out. We try it at a dance one night the following week — it was a hit. So from there on we went into dub. Dub is the inspiration of the engineer, the techniques, the timing of putting the rhythm in and taking it out. The whole thing about dub is — it's not anything written on paper or anything like that."
Seen, Tubby, but as I can't magically transform this informational device we call SOUNDS into a radio, I'll have to carry on with the old hand method...
The dances Tubby was talking about are the lifeblood of reggae in Jamaica, specially since reggae gets little airplay on the Jamaican Broadcasting Corporation. The top producers vie with each other to come up with the most catchy 'slates' — records cut specially for the sound systems, designed to get the people dancing and enhance the d.j's mystique by its exclusivity at the same time. (In this country, Dennis 'Matumbi' Bovell's a master of the art of supplying addictive rhythms anonymously, that's why he's the man to tell you how to make your own dub, on page 25).
Although they weren't real, deliberate dubs, you could hear super–imaginative instrumental 'versions', also on the B–side of singles, at blues dances since the late 60's, coming from the mixing–boards of the heaviest producers — King Tubby, Scratch, Coxone. Since King Tubby's initial rush at realising the limitless scope of what could be achieved in dub, the sounds have got wilder. In fact, the wilder the better for most dub fanatics. Any sound — a dog–fight outside the studio window, door–bells ringing, the uncanny squeal of tape re–winding in the studio, a stranger cursing as he stumbles into the studio by mistake — incorporates easily into dub. The car–horns hooting, babies crying, water rushing, cats miaowing, telephones ringing and all the other sound surprises you can hear on the dub of Culture's 'I'm Not Ashamed' (Joe Gibbs label,) give you a thrill because they're unexpected, it's true, but they sound just right at the same time. They fit in with the overall hallucination/fevered dream effect of
When you listen to dub:–
ghostly horns phasing in and out over relentlessly crisp militant drums, while Culture's voices suddenly pop up from nowhere singing half a line of the song in perfect 3–part harmony and vanishing into dublivion. Errol Thompson's responsible for these revolutionary sound games; he's advanced in comparison to English/American colleagues because he's realised that music doesn't necessarily have to come from a throat or a musical instrument. Sound = Music. It's there, waiting to be heard.
Brian Eno has a theory about Jamaica's dub/imagination supremacy. He reckons that since recording studio technology's a recent arrival in Jamaica — Scratch still records on a little TEAC, and until recently at any rate, there were only two 24–track studios on the island, Aquarius and Harry J's — the sophisticated ears of Jamaican studio, technicians were in a good position to perceive the machines as musical instruments in themselves. Unlike their British/American colleagues, their aural arteries hardened by years of watching studios improve with the sole aim of reproducing the sound of musical instruments more accurately.
King Tubby may be the inventor, Errol Thompson may be the whizz at way–out dub singles, but Lee Perry's still the man who most consciously explores dub's surrealist potential, certainly where albums are concerned. Just listen, (if you can get hold of it, which tragically ain't too easy — wake up, Island) to his 12" dub version on his Upsetters label of 'Norman The Gambler,' as sung by Max Romeo on his 'War In A Babylon' (before being spiked with Jamaican punch, and sent careening down the canyons of Scratch's warped hearing.)
Just like a faintly disturbing crossed line when you're on the phone, an angry squabble between two men playing cards suddenly materialises while the song's still playing. They threaten each other for a few seconds, then the whole audio playlet is whisked out of hearing as mysteriously as it appeared. No explanation necessary; in dub, you expect the unexpected.
British punk musicians tend to be big dub fans, hence Generation X's recent experiment with 'Wild Dub', the flip of their new single 'Wild Youth'. Other white musicians have assimilated the experimental spirit of dub and express it in subtler ways, like John Martyn. 'One World' his soon–to–be–released album is authentic original white dub; it contains the elements of stereo + rhythm surprise, echo + reverb games, without imitating the JA sound literally. The link exists because Martyn is using — having fun with — pure sound.
Music makers like Errol Thompson, Karl Pitterson, Scratch, King Tubby, Niney, Bunny Lee, are all unwitting exponents of New Musick. They understand that twisting a knob is making music just as much as plucking a string. Whether it's aimed at a shimmering neon–floored disco or the bare walls of a ram–packed blues dance, the equation's the same:
SOUND = MUSIC = MOVEMENT.
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RECOMMENDED DUB ALBUMS
Specially selected for excellence plus accessability, all albums available by mail order from Daddy Kool, 44 Hanway st, London W1
AFRICAN DUB CHAPTER THREE ALL–MIGHTY: Joe Gibbs & the Professionals (Joe Gibbs)
KING TUBBY MEETS ROCKERS UPTOWN: Augustus Pablo (Clocktower Records)
THE AGGROVATORS MEET THE REVOLUTIONARIES AT CHANNEL ONE (Third World)
SUPER APE: Lee Perry/The Upsetters (Island)
WAREIKA DUB: Rico (Ghetto Rockers)
BRAND: Keith Hudson (Brand) |
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Dennis Matumbi in dub: a step by step guide.
1. I'm patching in the 16–track machine, the echo machine and the reverb into the plugboard. That brings the tape off the 16–track machine behind me, looping the information off the tape synchronisation and patching all 16 tracks through to the desk (mixing board). Then I can equalise the tracks, that means get all the levels balanced.
2. This is the tape echo which gives repeat. I'm limiting the echo with my left hand so it doesn't distort.
3. That machine on my right captures all that I'm doing. After I've plugged in the echo machine and lined it up I set the phaser and the graphic equaliser, as you can see on the picture. That's what makes the sound go from left to right, like the balance knob on your amp at home. It bends, or phases all the instruments together from deepest bass to the finest treble. See how the machine I'm working on's divided in 2? The section on top together with the bit I'm kneeling by is what gives that phased effect that sounds like an aeroplane flying across the room. I set the machine to a mellow feel . . . when the echo goes from left to right across the speakers it sounds like a train going through the room, and when it phases as it goes, it sounds like an aeroplane — see it deh? Earth and sky...
Those dials on the right–hand machine are the PPM meters, they show you the level of sound that's going down on tape. 0 is no sound, and about the highest you can go with reggae music is 6 db (decibels) because reggae bass is so heavy. It's different with rock. When the bass is that heavy, if the level goes any higher than 6 it makes the grooves on the record interlock when you're cutting it. Here I'm recording for a master tape, so the speed is 15 i.p.s (inches per second). Any slower and you get hiss on the tape. That's why you get better sound quality on 12" singles, because there's more room to smear the music right across the plastic.
4. I'm testing the phase and echo sound. Yeah! It works. With my right hand I'm flicking the echo in and out on the patching board, and I'm flicking the phase in with my left hand.
5. I'm about to start setting the faders . . . Go deh!
6. Now we're getting into the equalisation tricks. I'm going along one track at a time, each instrument individually, to give it its tone/sound balance. The box at the back is a remote control unit, I can take it with me as I go along the board and it controls the 16–track machine. You see, I'm recording on a 2" tape which can carry up to 16 different instruments. The desk has 24 different channels.
I'll explain to you what all the different knobs on the desk do.
The top line is the master volume, which controls the sound level in a different way from the faders (they're the sliding things I'm pushing with my right hand). The top buttons just make sure the sound doesn't go over 6 db, the faders are for more precise volume control on each so there is no distortion and no instruments peaking above 6db. The next 4 buttons down are equalisation. Notice how each line of buttons goes straight tothe corresponding fader. Each line down of knobs–into–fader controls a separate instrument/channel.
The equallsation ranges from high frequency (called hf, at the top of that second section of knobs) that's what gives that sssssssss sound, very fine treble. The bottom–most of the four knobs is bass, that's low frequency (If), very deep.
See the way all those four knobs are two different colours? The top's red and the bottom's black. You set the bottom half to get the sound roughly, and then you set the top just to skim the top off the sound, to make it more fine, the exact right sound on every instrument.
It usually takes me about 20 minutes to set up the board. I put the drum tracks on the far left of the board, the rhythm section in the middle, and the vocals at the far right.
Now we're on the bottom section of knobs. The top row here controls the echo sound. See how these knobs are also divided in 2? The top's the cue send, the bottom's the cue return.
If I turn the top of those knobs, I get echo on that instrument — one turn is one repeat, two turns is two echoes and so on. It's also activated by that little switch you can just see immediately above. The first switch is for the four knobs above, if I don't want to change the equalisation I've worked out when I'm mixing, I'll leave the switch off and let the equalisation that's already on the tape come through. You see, the tape recorder's got two heads — the synch head, to synchronise all the tracks in time together, and the playback head which gets a fatter tone to the sound. The second switch controls the echo buttons, supplementing the knob underneath. Again, it means I can put any amount of echo on any track.
Back to the knobs – the second to bottom line controls the reverb. That's what gives that spacious effect in stereo. You turn it to get the exact amount of reverberation you want on every instrument. I never use it on the bass drum because it makes it sound muddy when you want it to hit solid and clear. I put a lot of reverb on the snare drum, it gives it that clicking hollow wooden sound. I want it to sound as if it's in a big room. There's a track each for bass, snare, hi hat, one for each cymbal, and three for the toms – floor, floating and hanging toms, that is. You can make the drummer tighter in the studio than he was when he was actually playing, see it?
Now for the very bottom line. That's the pan. Panning the instruments from one speaker to the other is specially essential in dub, of course, shifting the sound from the left hand speaker to the right. Of course, you can shift each instrument individually. It's like presence control, you can make the sound move forward or back as you want it. The organ goes on the left, and the piano goes on the right — that's already the basic rhythm that makes you want to dance, you're already rocking in stereo!
7. Me start mix now, the tape start run. I'm keeping in tune with the music while I'm mixing, I rock and t'ing, and one, two time I fall off my chair 'cos the rhythm touch my head just after the drum and bass start to rock. The snare is under heavy manners, murderer reverb! It start sound like gunshot, it have fire, you understand? On the picture, me just touch it to bring in the rhythm guitar and piano for a touch of echo, just let it go, and hear it.
You have to make sure that no instrument covers any other instrument, each one keeps its own time within the timing of the song. We have a picking guitar in reggae that acts like the fullback in football. You know how the fullback guards the goal while the other players are out deh on the field? The fullback covers all the other players? The picking guitar plays the same as the bass guitar, but way up high, it covers every bass note. So if the bass drum is covering the bass guitar, flattening the sound, you make sure that you have the picking guitar up loud so that the bass guitar line isn't drowned out. It is only noticeable when the drum covers the bass.
The rhythm guitar is like the policeman of reggae because it keeps all the other instruments in check. It's like a Gemini character, two–sided, you know? One minute it's playing with the organ, another minute it rocks with the piano. The piano plays off the beat, the organ plays the double beat, and the sound rocks between the two.
8. After the first furlong! You look again, the rhythm is running smooth, and now there's little picks of echo I rip off by the wayside as the rhythm chucks along. Time for a hot dub nowl Is bass time, drum an' bass have fe get ugly, with WICKED echo running 'pon the snare drum, and little filters of echo 'pon the hi hat. It's ites (heights) of dubbing now. In the picture me just a fall off my chair when the bass just lick and touch me in my bones...
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With thanks to @soundsclips on Twitter.