Magic Powers Studios started off as little more than a refurbished iMac and m-audio keyboard in 2011. As a classically trained pianist and singer-songwriter, this was my initiation into the world of music production. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, technically. But I was under pressure. I'd been carrying around these songs all my life... and they wanted out.
My music had fought its way into the forefront of my consciousness over the years, where it had begun to amass spiritual density. All that time it had been growing. Bigger. Denser. More earnest. And now the proverbial pressure was reaching critical mass. Whether I was up to the task or not, this music was ready to embody. I wasn't going to be able to hold it in much longer.
After years of thinking some amazing producer would just magically materialize and turn my musical inspiration into a manifest masterpiece, I had come face to face with reality: no one was coming. It was time to figure out for myself how to breathe life into my creation, no matter what it took.
I had no idea I was embarking on a journey that would test the constitution of my soul, drive me to obsession and come to define my very life.
When all of this started, I had -- at least -- familiarity to draw upon. I'd been in some excellent recording studios as a working musician in Los Angeles. I'd watched more than a few multiplatinum, Grammy nominated engineers and producers work. But I had no idea how to get started myself.
I had come face to face with reality: no one was coming. It was time to figure out for myself how to breathe life into my creation, no matter what it took.
For answers I turned to the people many clueless musicians turn to for guidance... the experts at Guitar Center. They recommended GarageBand ("it comes for free on your Mac") and hooked me up with Mackie speakers, a $99 mic and the cheapest digital interface they had.
Being a serious pianist, I was aghast that they didn't have 88 key MIDI keyboards in stock. ("Most people who produce only need, like, an octave," they told me.) So I settled on something they called their top of the line controller: a 61 key m-audio AXIOM-61 that was soon to become my best friend. But at first I hated it. It didn't have enough keys.
I determined before I even got home that day that I was going to upgrade from GarageBand to Logic Pro. I wasn't dicking around after all. I was going to do this professionally. So I spent the money on Logic and then spent the next year and a half figuring out how to use it. Rather than watch tutorials, I just started experimenting. I knew there were undoubtedly "right ways" to do things, but I also decided developing my own methods would contribute to a more original sound when all was said and done.
So I just started trying things.
I methodically went through every plugin on every track, every instrument, every time, to see what would happen if I did... well.... everything possible. I had to see what turning every available knob in every conceivable configuration would do, whether the track needed it or not. That was my approach to learning. My first song sounded more like a counterfeit video game than the anthem I was aiming for. But I'd hit the ground running, content in the knowledge I was finally on my path.
I had to see what turning every available knob in every conceivable configuration would do, whether the track needed it or not.
Compressors, exciters, flangers... No one was explaining what these things did or how to use them; I just experimented and listened for the difference in the sound when I changed things. The purpose of some things was obvious. Reverb, for example. Other things were more subtle. Like hearing the difference when compressor settings were only minorly adjusted. In those days, only glaring changes were obvious to me because I couldn't yet differentiate the subtleties.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, I was taking my first baby steps into a world that revolved entirely around being able to perceive subtleties at subtler and subtler levels. Self-production, I would come to learn, is a subtle energy sport. It's not just about the creative choices that build a song into a track, but about the ability to engineer that sound in the best way possible.
For the first time in my life, I started to notice things about sound that weren't related to volume. There was so much more going on than how loud or quiet something was. And Logic allowed me to explore this new frontier with abandon.
I was taking my first baby steps into a world that revolved entirely around being able to perceive subtleties at subtler and subtler levels. Self-production, I would come to learn, is a subtle energy sport.
Now I've always been a bit obsessive, but working in Logic really held my attention. The workflow. The countless parameters of control. From the very first day I was glued to that computer in practically every waking moment. It seemed like a healthy addiction. That whir of the iMac and the lighting up of the screen. Popping those plugins on the tracks. Capturing a truly terrific take and being able to play it over and over. The thrill of the bounce.
Those early days were empyrean. I was doing it! Producing! Making my music at last!! The whole time I worked I was overflowing with this uncontrollable feeling of euphoria. Being able to multitrack gave me a sense of absolute power limited only by my creativity. Eventually I had close to an album worth of original material created with stock Logic plugins and an Sm58. I felt like a fucking badass.
And then one day I turned on my computer to put the finishing touches on Made of Stars... and it wouldn't boot up. This refurbished iMac that had become the literal altar at which I worshipped was suddenly not working. It turned out that my hard drive had failed and the moving parts had scratched the beginning of every index file, resulting in total data loss.
It hurt. But I chalked it up to fate throwing me a challenge, and I kept going. I'll make even better music this time around, I told myself. And to turn a negative into a positive, I took the opportunity to upgrade the studio. I replaced the hard drive, this time with solid state (no moving parts!) and also bought what I should have had from the start -- a back up drive. I got a better interface too, went from Mackie speakers to Neumanns, and invested in Omnisphere -- which was my first foray into territory that wasn't a stock Logic sample instrument.
And there it was: Magic Power Studios v1.2.
With Omnisphere in my tool belt, I felt a new surge of excitement. It sounded considerably better than stock Logic sounds, and I loved the numerous parameters of control. Although there were tons of amazing presets, there was also now an opportunity for serious digital synthesis. It was crack for the OCD Logic obsessed side of me, and it felt like I had reached a new level of sonic exploration.
I began to make multiple versions of every song, watching my arc of improvement shoot like an arrow across my mental horizon. My skills were improving, but so were my ears, and I was beginning to hear substantial differences in sound quality between my creations and the those of my all time favorite artists. Now I no longer felt compelled to simply release music as my primary goal: I wanted to close the gap. Go deep. Invest the time needed for my self-production powers to burgeon, so when I finally did release music, it would have the SOUND that I wanted.
Surrendering to the muse, but also at the mercy of my ever-improving ears, I was playing the long game. This was, I understood, a rite of passage. Something I couldn't rush. So I put my nose to the grindstone and served the idea of my future art like a priestess serves a deity.
Things were great... for a while... until a brown out rolled thru my rural Oregon town, and I discovered that those experts at Guitar Center had sold me all this gear without ever mentioning I should be running it through a power conditioner. Half my gear was fried. And my hard drive data was corrupted.
I put my nose to the grindstone and served the idea of my future art like a priestess serves a deity.
I was so pissed. But I told myself the universe must know I'm capable of more. There must be better music in me. So I would just have to do it again. Amazingly I was on the literal last 48 hours of my warranty, so I was able to immediately replace my interface and monitors the same day.... and thanks to Guitar Center's admittedly fantastic return policy, I decided to send back the (burnt out) Neumanns and get brand new Genelec 8030s by special order. I made the decision sight unseen, based on a gut feeling, and it was a great move.
I decided to get a new computer too... this time with a whole CHAIN of backup drives... and something else I should have had from the beginning: a fucking power conditioner.
This, and a better mic, became Magic Powers Studios 2.0, which would soon grow beyond Omnisphere to include actual hardware synthesizers. Over the next few years I wound up the lucky owner of an all-original 1983 Juno 60, a refurbished Yamaha DX7, a DSI prophet 12, a Jupiter 80 and a Yamaha Motif xf8. And a few other things that I grabbed up here and there.
I also invested in waves plugins, which kicked my mixing game into higher gear instantly. The sound was so clearly superior to the stock effects in Logic that I remade all my songs (yet again) using waves EQs, compressors and effects. I was feeling pretty damn good about the music. But I still couldn't quite get my sound to be as big and round as I wanted. I still had a way to go to sound like a pro. But the content was there and a style was clearly beginning to assert itself.
I still had a way to go to sound like a pro. But the content was there and a style was clearly beginning to assert itself.
At the end of 2013 I met Tom Carpenter from Analogue Solutions who turned me on to his brilliant analog monosynths. I collaborated with his in-house synth demonstrator RezFilter to create the Analogue Solutions Christmas song and wound up featured on Synthtopia and SonicState promoting AS's modular Polymath. Even Vince Clarke paid me a compliment!
Suddenly the analog world was on the horizon and I was struck by the power and character of true analog synthesis. I couldn't believe the complexity and nuance of the sound. It added something that seemed organic and even alive to my sonic palette. This!! This was the missing link. From 2014 to 2015 the Telemark-k, Leipzig-s, Nyborg-24 and Oberkorn joined the family.
Once I had gear like this, you'd think it would have been easier to put out a great record... but it wasn't. Commanding these behemoths in a truly melodic fashion would take skill and time. And the learning curve was steep.... playing modular analog was totally different than playing a keyboard and customizing presets. I went from feeling like a semi-pro to feeling like an amateur again overnight. But I had to have it. For the SOUND.
Time went on and I was getting better and better at music production, engineering and analog synthesis. But my ears were improving even faster, so I kept hearing problems with my creations... problems I never would have noticed before. Holed up in my studio like an obsessive maniac, I spent years learning how to use these incredible machines, as well as becoming a true master of the Logic DAW. I created work that I was proud of, but it still wasn't 100% perfect. I never showed anyone. I wanted to release it all at once in a kind of musical blitzkrieg... when it was perfect.
I was getting better and better at music production, engineering and analog synthesis, but my ears were improving even faster, so I kept hearing problems with my creations... problems I never would have noticed before.
Years passed in an OCD-fueled delirium. The better I got, the less convinced I was that anything I was doing was good enough. Although when I started off I felt like an absolute badass, the immense discipline I had invested to develop my skill and my ear had completely changed the way I perceived sound. The curse of having developed my ears was that I now heard problems with everything.
I can do better. I just have to keep at it.
From 2015 to 2018 I created tracks with all these incredible machines... like WOOP IN THE STUDIO, BEATING HEART, BANANA DIVINE. It sounded better than a lot of music. But still not quite as good as it sounded in my head. I know now I should have released it then, but I wanted it to be perfect.
As if to punish me, disaster struck again. Literally. My studio was struck by lightning. Fucking lightning. I mean, whose studio gets struck by lightning? Mine. That's whose.
My studio was struck by lightning. Fucking lightning. I mean, whose studio gets struck by lightning? Mine. That's whose.
That chain of backup drives I'd built to protect against data loss was fried. So was my computer, interface and every digital instrument or component that was plugged in at the time of the event. Even the power conditioner didn't stand a chance. The electricity had literally run down the line burning out everything as it went.
It would be hilarious if it wasn't so fucked up. The good news was it only burned out whatever digital things were plugged in. I still had my analog gear and my synths, but my computer, interface, monitors and hard drives were gone.
Again.
I had older versions of some songs saved elsewhere in a private online archive, so it wasn't a complete loss. But it was still a major blow losing the most current versions of all my work after everything I had put into it.
This time, even though the loss was smaller, getting started again was harder. Times had changed. I had become a single mother to identical twin baby daughters. Money was virtually nonexistent. I was out of commission for a year, but as soon as I had the studio back up and running, I was back at it like a bat outta hell. THIS TIME, THIS IS IT. I could feel it in my bones.
I spent the next two years post-lightning-strike making the best music of my life... this time with all of my material backed up to dropbox, and physical backup drives that were scattered unplugged throughout the house... so if lightning struck again, they would be unaffected.
Everything felt safe.
One day after being at this for almost a decade, I sat down and listened back to everything I had made.... tears rolled down my cheeks. I had before me an insane number of songs, and after almost 10 years of struggle, I could honestly say the sound I heard playing back in my headphones was everything I had dreamed it would be.
It's ready, I realized.
I did it.
And a thrill shot thru me. All this work had been worth it. All the struggle. It was finally good enough to release. My whole being vibrated with the energy of fulfilled potential.
I immediately began making plans. How should I unleash this labor of love on the world? For maximum impact I knew I needed to make videos. But not just any videos. I would release everything together as a full length film. Enter it into an independent film contest. Come out to the world at last after all this time spent toiling away in obscurity. I could envision it perfectly. My plan was clear. I started drawing up sets and story boarding. The future was at my fingertips.
Then on September 8, 2020, on a morning that started off like any other, I took my kids to the dentist and we never made it home. Hurricane force winds blew thru southern Oregon and wildfires wiped out entire towns in a single day, including mine, only to keep on burning and taking more casualties for days thereafter.
Hurricane force winds blew thru southern Oregon and wildfires wiped out entire towns in a single day, including mine.
Everything was wiped out in a matter of minutes. My studio. My house. My music. All those hard drives I had hidden throughout the house. Every heirloom, memory or memento I'd ever saved. Every last synthesizer.
Although I was in shock, at least I knew I had dropbox. My songs would be safe! But when I logged in I discovered to my utter horror that my file structures were corrupt... apparently I should have compressed the folders and uploaded single zip files of each project, not attempted to upload the uncompressed file structure. None of my files would open. What the fuck was I supposed to do now?
The death drop feeling in my heart made me literally sick.
I returned to the scene of the fire in desperation, hoping that somehow some modicum of my life's work had survived the ravages of the flames. I was covered head to toe in soot and I cut my forearms to smithereens pulling up broken pieces of metal, looking for some hint from the universe that the last ten years of my life hadn't really come to naught.
I wanted to see a hard drive, charred but intact, preserved by spiritual forces under fallen rubble. But all I found was ashes, burnt out corpses of synthesizers and the dust of dead dreams.
The weeks that followed were a blur. My babies and I were homeless, with nothing but the clothes on our backs, and we fumbled around getting food from Red Cross tents and used clothing from various good samaritans. We made a new temporary home in my mom's craft room in a nearby town, and I basically sat and stared at the wall for days on end.
All I found was ashes, burnt out corpses of synthesizers and the dust of dead dreams.
When you lose your home and your possessions, your life's work and your entire sense of identity, it becomes very easy to go within. In the months that followed the fire I took an odyssey thru the astral realms, attempting to find some answers.
At one point, someone I met in the dreamworld told me very compassionately that if I just released my music, I could have my hard drive back. Of course this made no sense at all, since all the good stuff was gone, and I was angry about the convoluted false hope he seemed to be taunting me with. This is what he told me. "You know linear time is an illusion. This is not a test of your understanding of the universe. It is a test of your faith in yourself. Release your music."
And so, one night in 2021, battered and broken with no home and no studio, I lay in my makeshift bed on the floor of my mom's craft room and scoured my online archive. The only things in there were some old, rough demos from the 2013-2017 era. But I knew what I had to do.
I began to release these old songs.... the ones that had never been good enough... in the form of music videos that I shot with no budget in that cramped little craft room using a green screen and stuff I could return later to Amazon. At the time I had no instruments or studio gear, but I had been able to replace my computer, thanks to the good people at the Rotary Club, so I used it to edit the videos together to make something of the scraps of music that remained.
One song and video a week. That was my goal.
The cheesy lip-syncing videos I made as a homeless and studio-less person were a far cry from the heart-rending ear-and-eye-heroin I had planned for my film... but it was all I had. It felt like making a fire by hitting rocks together. But I did it.
And it saved me.
It took two more years, but I reclaimed my sanity, song by song, by releasing old versions of whatever the universe hadn't taken from me. As each one went out, I felt spiritual space free up in my energetic field. After I had put out enough of them, I realized I had an incredible reservoir of receptivity suddenly available. My creative powers had been running so slowly without any free space in my aura that I had forgotten what it felt like to be truly empty and open for the universe to fill me up again.
Suddenly the joy of creation was pouring into me anew. Flashes of insight. Songs coming down from that invisible radio in the sky. It felt like lightning bolts of inspiration were shooting out of the sky and into my head. That original euphoria was back. I was once again connected directly to Source. With all the knowledge and wisdom of the Lost Decade to draw from, I had a new lease on life.
With approval at last from the universe, I've rebuilt my empire. I once again have a home, a studio, a beautiful collection of synthesizers, and access to many more, including very rare and special ones, through a special long-term loan arrangement with synth historian Marc Doty, whose work with Buchla and the Bob Moog Foundation is well known.
But best of all, I have plenty of space on my own proverbial hard drive to download new material from the universe directly into myself. I am on fire with creativity. And now, when I sit down to produce a song, all the skills that I gained from more than ten years of blood, sweat and tears are at my fingertips with ease.
And all that experimentation? Well that did, in fact, lead to me developing a sound and style of my own. That Magic Powers sound. And the repeated devastations? That Biblical Job-level shit? At the time it seemed like madness and cruel thwartation by the universe, but the Lost Decade gifted me something priceless and I accept it for the magical rite of passage it was.
I know now that I am now the producer I've always wanted to be.
Welcome to Magic Powers Studios 3.0.
>> a few 2015-2016 demo recordings (filmed in 2021 and 2022 after the fire). Made with Juno60, DX7, Analogue Solutions Leipzig, Nyborg-24 and Telemark. And a touch of Omnisphere,
and two 2013 demo recordings, VAMPIRES and DOLLHOUSE DOMINATRIX
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