In Studio

Last week I went "in studio" to record a CD, a collection of essays I've been wanting to make audio for a long time. It was a great experience, much different than radio. I had to make sure I was reading in my best Charlton Heston voice and every now and again the director would stop me and say, "Wait, go back. Reread that last paragraph!"

I'd do it, then a few minutes later he would point out something like: "You know, these microphones are super sensitive. I could hear you scratching yourself on that last take."

I had to sit perfectly still in the chair, hardly breathing, and then I'd burp or something, and we'd have to do the whole thing over again. The director would sit back and say, "Okay, take number six!" just like in Hollywood, and then he'd point at me and say, "Rolling . . . ."

But I never saw anything rolling. There was just computer equipment and a few dots on the screen and occasionally a slight beep when he pressed a computer key. There were wires running across the chair, over the chair, under the chair, and there were times I was afraid he was going to throw a switch and electrocute me. "Roll on Two!"

Good gravy, I was nervous . . . but seven hours later I'd done it. My first CD.

"How'd I do?" I asked as I was leaving the studio.

"Great," said the director. "You're a natural."

On the way home I stopped at Starbucks and bought myself a large coffee with cream. I had to have the caffeine to bring myself down again.